Lackadaisy: The King's Daughter

Chapter 1: From King to Princess

The war has since ended. Though I myself am a German, I am not the enemy. I can be sweet. Though I have the accent, I also have the legacy. During the war, I was a German spy and assassin for the allies in Germany. What? Do you expect every German to support the Kaiser? During later half of the Great War, I had a 160,000 DM bounty on my head

If they paid me enough, I would have shot the Kaiser. Oh, how rude of me. I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Jenni Schultz. My great-great-grandfather is the legendary bounty hunter King Schultz. He had family over in the old country, and after the war, I moved from Bonn to St. Louis. There are a lot of Germans in St. Louis. Good for me, really

Like my ancestor, I am a silver tabby and carry on his work. I have the 'Josephine Baker' hair and healthy mature curves under the big mink coat. If you are on my 'hit list', you may not live to see what is hiding underneath. Needless to say, my relationships with men do not last long. It really is a shame when I find out the one I am seeing is a criminal.

I was made a 'Manx' by force when a couple German soldiers had my tail ran over by a train during the war. Then again, on the bright side, I do not have to move my tail when I sit down for a nice dinner. I was leaving a restaurant in my coat and with my flapper hat. I do say, the Oysters Rockefeller were lovely. My most sincere compliments to the chefs

"Hey there, Pretty Kitty" said an unruly cat

"Good evening gentlemen" I said politely to them

"A pretty lady like you shouldn't be out at night" said another cat, one seemingly more mature and more intelligent than his brother. These were just the cats I was looking for, "now state your business" he asked of me, I offered a warm and sincere smile since my Hispano-Suiza H6C is just a block and a half down the street which I had planned for this

"I am looking for two cats, might you two be the Whiskerton Boys?" I replied, keeping my flapper dress covered beneath my coat. One of the two pulled up a Browning pistol to my face. These cats must have served in the war, and now they turn to a life of crime. In these times of prohibition, organized crime, and speakeasies, being armed is necessary.

"Who wants to know?" he asked, I kept my composure relaxed even if I have a pistol pointed at me. I know these cats. Word reached me by my employer that the son of a rich oil tycoon had been kidnapped. For these men they are wanted 'dead or alive'. I see the look in his eyes that he does not trust me, and he appears to be the 'brains' on this job.

"Well, I have been told by your boss that I am to take over looking after the 'package'," I explained to them, the gun still was not moving. Well, it was because now the pistol is aimed between my brown eyes. In my business, it is best to use words before bullets. I have this feeling my words will be wasted on these two. I need them to give me a reason

"We didn't hear anything from him" he replied

"Do you intend to kill me with that pistol?"

Honestly, I killed his boss after I got word from him that the 'package' is at this location. This 'package' is worth one hundred thousand dollars. He cocked back the receiver on his pistol, "If you have a prayer, say it now, Fancy Cat" he threatened me. I closed my eyes, and grinned with a light shake of my head. I knew that it was going to come to this.

"If you insist" I said, and quickly slipped off my coat to pull out a short-barreled, sawed-off Walther Automatic Shotgun, and shot him in the face. I turned to the other with one of my two Walther Model 6 pistols I keep on me, and shot him in the knee. He screamed, as you Americans say, 'bloody murder'. He writhed and held his knee as I went to him.

"Oh dear me...it looks like I overdid it" I said, seeing the smarter brother's brains on the sidewalk. I holstered my shotgun behind me, and my pistol in hand, "now then, would you be so kind as to tell me where he is kept?" I asked, his face was a contortion of sweat, tears and pain. He looks like he is ready to comply as he was pointing to the building.

"The old boarding house, second level, third door on the right" he muttered in pain, there is a chance that he is going to 'talk' if I leave as he is. I apologized to him as I stood up, "wait...wait!" he pleaded to me, I am not going to, so I shot him in the head. I picked up my coat, and walked up the stairs of the building to find a bound and gagged kitten

I removed his gag, "Who're you?!" he asked panicking

"One of the good guys, well...girls, come now" I replied

As we ran out, I covered his eyes so he would not have to see the dead bodies. I drove off with the 'package' into the night. I looked to the little tom-kitten, and ruffled his top to let him know that he is safe. I safely returned him to his family where tears of joy were shed, and embraces of love were held. Still, I got my pay. All in the life of a Pinkerton.