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from Her Royal Highness the Cat too!

The Big Sleazy, Chapter 6

Of course that double-dealing, duplicitous lez lawyer DID make it stick. The Karmic Crystal of Justice ensured her invincibility in all legal matters. It only took the jury ten minutes to convict me. I didn’t stand a chance.

So now here I am in Pawshank Penitentiary, doing hard time for a murder I didn’t commit. I lie awake at night, plotting revenge that will never occur.

This is my life now.

Let it be a lesson to all you mooks out there who think you’re so hard-boiled and tough and streetwise. If it could happen to me, it can happen to you. Steer clear of the Translesbigay Mafia. They're ruthless.

My final case ought to be known as The Shamus and the Shyster. It was a match made in Hell. Or at least in Nightmare Alley.

Of all the private investigator joints in all the towns in all the world, she had to walk into mine.

[Story, art and photo of art © Debra She Who Seeks, 2023]

The Big Sleazy, Chapter 5

When I came to for the second time, it was morning. I was back in my office, slumped over on the floor, bleeding quietly in the horizontal light-and-shadow patterns made by the window blinds.

My office had been thoroughly tossed, all the files opened and their contents dumped out, my couch cushions slashed to ribbons with a knife, the whole nine yards. Needless to say, the big briefcase with all the sweet, sweet money was gone.

She Who Seeks was sitting behind my desk in my office chair, idly playing with a big flashing crystal amulet hanging around her neck.

“Conscious again, are we?” she asked. “Hey, how do you like my Karmic Crystal of Justice? It looks damn good on me, don’t you think?”

“How did you get that?” I croaked.

“Got it last night off some mangy old wizard named Gandalf after he had an unfortunate accident while in the bathtub. Seems a plugged-in electric toaster oven somehow fell into the water with him. ZAP! And all of a sudden, the amulet needed a new home.”

She Who Seeks poked me in the ribs with the toe of her sensible shoe.

“We -- and by ‘we’ I mean the Translesbigay Mafia -- knew where the amulet was located all along, of course. But what we didn’t have yet was a patsy, a stooge, to take the fall for the murder. Say, you don’t look busy at the moment. You’ll do just fine.”

“You’ll never make it stick. I have witnesses and a rock-solid alibi for last night.”

She threw back her head and laughed.

[Story © Debra She Who Seeks, 2023;

Sailor Moon GIF courtesy of internet]

The Big Sleazy, Chapter 4

When I came to, I was tied to a chair with some goon beating on me. My right eye was swollen shut but through the slit of my other one, I recognized the big palooka -- a feline enforcer for the dreaded Translesbigay Mafia.

“Albert, you sonovabitch.” I managed to grind out from between my bloody teeth. “Shouldn’t you be in jail somewhere?”

He just laughed and punched me in the gut.

Everyone in the ‘hood feared the Translesbigay Mafia. You didn’t dare cross them. Not a single one of them. Once I had seen a top secret police file with all their code names and aliases listed. It was a chilling Who’s Who of the criminal underworld -- 

Sixpence, Adam, Mistress Maddie, Carlos-y-Bob, Scoot, San Geraldo, “Doctor” Spo, Old Lurker, John-Going-Gently, Travel Penguin, (the allegedly) Reluctant Rebel, Breenlantern, LL Cool Joe, Rommy, Fearsome Beard. And one notorious sub-gang identified only as “Willym and the Hounds From Hell.”

But the most feared gang member on the list was simply known as “e” -- il capo dei capi, the Godmother of the Translesbigay Mafia, the dame who controlled them all and ran the ‘hood with an iron fist.

Where was I? Oh yeah, getting the crap beat out of me.

Albert worked me over pretty bad. He was a grumpy bastard, Albert. British domestic shorthairs always are.

[Story, art and photo of art © Debra She Who Seeks, 2023;

you can visit Albert at Going Gently]

The Big Sleazy, Chapter 3

The overwhelming aroma of incense made my head spin. The only light in the room came from candles scattered about in holders and from the flashing neon “Tarot, Tarot, TAROT” sign on the wall.

Madame Kazee was seated at a small round table, a colourful swirl of scarves, shawls, and gaudy jewelry. Her tarot deck sat before her on the black velvet tablecloth.

“Cross my paw with silver and all will be revealed to you,” she purred.

I drew up a chair and threw down a wad of the briefcase cash. “I need to know the whereabouts of the Karmic Crystal of Justice. Spill it, sister.”

The money disappeared as if by magic and Madame Kazee shuffled her tarot cards. Never breaking eye contact with me, she slowly and dramatically turned over the first card.

“The Moon,” she said. “Deception and illusion.”

“I need an address for the amulet’s location, not a buncha mumbo jumbo.”

No response. Madame Kazee turned over another card and held it up for me to see.

“The Ten of Swords." She paused for effect. "Utter defeat.”

The next card seemed to leap out of the deck as if possessed. It fell on the floor, face up. Madame Kazee blanched under her fur and whispered, “The Tower. An unexpected fateful blow from right out of the blue.”

The last thing I remember was the sound of breaking glass as some unknown assailant behind me smashed my liquor bottle over my head.

Lights out. Closing time for me.

[Story, art and photo of art © Debra She Who Seeks, 2023;

you can visit Kazee at Mystical Empowerment]

The Big Sleazy, Chapter 2

Late that night, I made the rounds of every seedy gin joint in town, hitting up my contacts for info on that crazy amulet. Down a badly-lit back alley, I stumbled into my favourite retro speakeasy, Dudo’s Dumpster Dive. If anyone could steer me right, it’d be Dudo.

He was behind the bar as always, slinging beer and other libations to the rough biker crowd packing the joint.

“Hey, Dudo, long time no see. Gimme a shot of your best hooch.” Remembering my unlimited expense account, I added: “And leave the bottle.”

Dudo came up dry on the amulet. But he did know of a witchy she-devil cat who might have her paw on the pulse of such things.

“Madame Kazee. Best tarot reader in the biz. If she don’t know where that amulet is, ain’t no one knows.”

“Where can I find her?”

Dudo paused, looked me up and down, and then called over the bar’s muscle, a big bruiser named Moose.

“Moose, take this guy to Madame Kazee. See that he gets there with his wallet intact.”

Turns out I didn’t even have to leave the establishment (or my bottle of booze). Moose shepherded both me and it through the bikers, hookers and general mayhem of the bar to a private room in the back.

“She’s in there, gumshoe. Better be respectful or she’ll put a curse on yer guts that’ll make you wish you wuz dead.”

And then Moose unceremoniously shoved me through the beaded curtain.

[Story, art and photo of art © Debra She Who Seeks, 2023;

you can visit Dudo and Moose at Moving With Mitchell]

The Big Sleazy, Chapter 1

It wasn’t enough that I was nursing a lion-sized catnip hangover that morning. Fate had more punishment in store for me. Trouble waltzed into my office in the form of a dame carrying a big briefcase.

“Are you Private Investigator HRH Spayed?”

I gave her the once-over through bloodshot eyes. Oh, I knew her type. Tailored pant suit and sensible shoes. Short hair. No makeup. A Bar Association pin in her lapel. A lawyer. A lez lawyer.

“What’s it to you if I am?”

“Answering a question with another question. Nice. I like that.”

Yeah, a lawyer alright.

“I want to retain your services to locate something for me. Something valuable. I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Show me the money, toots.”

She snapped open her briefcase. It was lined with bundles of moolah, all in big denominations.

“There’s lots more where this came from. Plus you’ll have an unlimited expense account.”

I wiped the drool off my whiskers and cleared a space in the clutter on my desk to take notes.

“Okay, gimme the deets.”

“I’m seeking a very valuable mystical amulet whose power will enable me to win every court case I take. It’s called the Karmic Crystal of Justice. Word on the street is that it’s currently controlled by a gang of nefarious criminals. I need you to find it for me.”

“Can do, shweetheart,” I purred. “Consider it done. And since I like to know my clients’ names, who are you when you’re at home?”

“Just call me . . . She Who Seeks. That’s all you need to know.”

[Story, art and photo of art © Debra She Who Seeks, 2023]