Murder on Show (21 page)

Of course I had known that she was a very valuable cat. ‘In that case ...' I tried to hand her over, but he waved her away.

‘Later,' he said, ‘there's plenty of time.' He bent to Helena again, and there was nothing for me to do but move away.

The Inspector was waiting by Pandora's stall. Penny and Gerry were sitting there talking to him. Little Topaz perched on our table beside Pandora's pen.

A lesser man than the Inspector would have fabricated some urgent excuse for getting back to Headquarters immediately. The Inspector had a flimsy excuse for staying, but I could read the truth in his eyes: he was determined to lick this thing. He had faced the worst he could possibly face, and now he was going up again immediately – before he lost his nerve.

‘I thought I'd let you know,' he said. His hand danced out tentatively towards Pandora and pulled back again. ‘You can all go now. Of course, you'll hold yourselves ready to give statements. But tomorrow will be time enough.' His hand feinted towards Pandora again, but the memory of her temper obviously intervened. His nerve cracked.

Topaz sat, placid and blinking, on the table. He settled for her, instead. ‘Nice little cat,' he said, and forced his fingers into contact with the top of her head.

Topaz blinked at him and obligingly purred. His confidence grew.
‘Very
nice little cat.' He let his hand settle on her head and sweep down towards her back. Then he jerked his hand away abruptly.

‘That cat is soaking wet,' he said accusingly.

Sure enough, she was. ‘Why, you little devil!' I said. She rolled large golden eyes at me and blinked complacently.

‘I think that's all,' the Inspector said. Honour was satisfied. He didn't have to
like
the brutes – but they no longer had him on the run. ‘Good night.' He took a deep breath and tapped the top of Pandora's head. She didn't react one way or another. He beamed and walked jauntily away. A man without phobias. It was a kill or cure treatment, but it had been cure. I didn't think it was practical to patent it, though.

Gerry had seen Roger Chesne-Malvern wave me away. He preserved a discreet silence. So did Penny, he must have signalled her. It didn't make me feel any better.

Next door, the kids had Precious Champ back in their collective stranglehold. He lolled there in their arms with an expression of beatified resignation. He was going home, and he knew it. For the first time, we were looking at a happy cat – he bore no resemblance to the vicious neurotic wreck who had been snarling his way through the Exhibition. That alone would have told anyone where he belonged – and where he wanted to be.

Marcus had surrendered unconditionally. He was now begging his own kind of mercy from the victors.

‘You must take his bowl, and his brush, and his chamois cloth – you must rub his coat with the chamois after you brush him. It polishes his fur, gives it lustre, brings out the highlights. And his carrying case – you can't take him on public transport like that. You ought to take a taxi. Would you let me give you the money for a taxi?'

Three pairs of eyes consulted each other. Marcus beamed in on the little girl as perhaps the most vulnerable. ‘Here's five pounds,' he pleaded. ‘That should take you home in a taxi – and leave you some change. You can keep the change. Buy him – buy him something nice with it. Salmon, perhaps – he's very partial to a bit of fresh salmon. Poached lightly in cream.'

She accepted the money with a sweet smile. From what I'd seen of that kid, it would go straight into a benevolent fund for herself, with a small unavoidable percentage being shared with her brothers. Champ would get baked beans on toast – and be happy with it. ‘All right,' she said.

‘Thank you, thank you,' Marcus Opal nearly wept. ‘May I ... just pat him ... one last time ...?' He stretched out his hand.

Precious tensed, recoiled, snarled, and lashed out. A long scarlet slash appeared along the back of Marcus's hand. It looked deep enough to leave a scar. Precious had given him something to remember him by – permanently.

Before they left in triumph, the little girl came over and clutched my sleeve. ‘Thank you, Mr Perkins,' she said gravely. ‘Thank you very much.'

‘That's all right, sweetheart.' I patted the top of her head.

‘Really!' Penny sniffed, looking after them. ‘I don't know how you
could.
Anyone can see she's common as dirt!' I did a double-take. It was ridiculous, but she sounded almost jealous. Little Penny – but that was silly.

Betty Lington was sobbing in the background. ‘Oh, Silly ... oh, Silver ... over and over. The police had taken the mangled little body away, only allowing her the briefest glimpse of it. I suspected they were trying to spare her from seeing the full extent of the damage, but she had seen enough. ‘Oh, Silly ...'

Dave Prendergast approached her diffidently. ‘Here's her ribbon. It fell off by my stand. I thought you might like to have it.' He held a tattered scrap of blue satin out to her.

Betty Lington looked up and screamed. A dusty pink nose, in a grime-streaked fur face, was emerging slowly from beneath a pile of railing and carpenters' tools. Eyes rolling wildly, still doubting the wisdom of ever coming into the daylight again, Silver Fir inched into view. More grey and black than silver, right now.

‘Silly! Silly!' Betty Lington pounced on her. ‘You're all right! You're safe. Clever, clever girl!' Silver Fir sank bonelessly into her arms, shivering. Her eyes were cloudy and worried. For the first time, she had dimly comprehended that there might be another world beyond the bright lights, the talcum powder and the cameras. There was a jungle out there somewhere – and she did not like her encounter with it.

‘Then who –?' Dave looked at the scrap of blue ribbon.

‘Lady Purr-fect,' I realized. The anonymous, interchangeable cat. The carpenters must have unlatched her pen when they were fooling around her. And Lady Purr-fect, Mark V version, had not been on exhibit long enough to know the lie of the land. All the other cats had been out of their pens frequently, cuddling in their owners' arms, looking around, able to see the set-up. None of them had made the mistake of heading straight into the danger zone. The admass puss was the only one not clued in. But no one would worry – she belonged to the agency, and there were four more duplicates, each as photogenic as the other. Poor little characterless cat.

‘I'm glad.' Marcus Opal was standing beside us, trying not to look at Topaz. A very sensible precaution, and one I ought to emulate.

‘Goodbye, doll.' I pulled open the door of the pen and tossed Pandora inside. There was no point in prolonging the agony. We had other clients, other promotions coming up – I could throw myself into my work and, before long, I wouldn't remember her at all – or only very vaguely.

‘I'm so glad –' Marcus dabbed at his bleeding hand with a handkerchief dipped in antiseptic – ‘her cat is safe. We've had enough tragedies here. One less –'

He broke off as Topaz rose and advanced. She sniffed at his hand, then rubbed her head against it. ‘No.' Visibly, Marcus tried to harden his heart. ‘No, there's no sense to it now. Go away.'

Topaz looked up at him, with that bright uncritical gaze. She, at least, adored him. She saw no fault in him. She would happily be his cat.

‘No, please,' Marcus said faintly.

‘It's worth a chance.' I helped the weakening process.

‘She was under that table with Precious for quite a while.
And
the back of her neck was all wet.'

‘Really?' He glanced at me brightly, then checked the damp fur for himself.

‘If I were a bookie, I'd give you odds,' I said.

‘Precious
did
seem terribly taken with her.' Marcus cheered up immediately. ‘Perhaps it
is
worth a chance.' He bustled off with her, to settle up with her owner.

I tried not to notice that Roger and Helena had come up behind me. Helena was packing Pandora's clobber into a basket, and Roger was coaxing Pandora into her carrying case.

I didn't watch them. At the same time, I saw why none of the cat-lovers had taken too hard a line with Marcus.
He loved not wisely, but too well,
did indeed express it for them. But now he had a second chance. One queen was already in kitten to Precious – his perfect stud – and it was practically a dead cert that Topaz was, too. Marcus Opal would have his Precious Jewel Cattery, after all. Breeding the best of the kittens back to their dams, he could build up the strain and develop a fine bloodline. Perhaps he didn't deserve it – or perhaps he did.
Much has been forgiven thee, because thou hast loved much.
Who knows?

I looked around. There was no one else to say goodbye to. Kellington had left earlier, but we were meeting for lunch next week. It was probably the beginning of a lifelong friendship. Once you've been under fire, sharing the same foxhole, you know what the other guy is really made of.

Gerry and Penny were waiting for me. ‘Come on,' I said to them, and to Dave, who was still pensively fingering the shredded ribbon, ‘I'll buy us all a drink.'

‘Just a minute,' Roger Chesne-Malvern said. I turned, and he held the carrying case out to me. ‘Don't forget your cat.'

‘But ... I thought ... I mean ...' I was stammering.

‘No, I wouldn't dream of
selling
her.' He smiled. ‘But she's yours. Haven't you ever heard that “You don't choose a cat, a cat chooses you?” Pandora is a free spirit, and it has been very plain for quite some time that she prefers your company.

‘Mr Perkins, you have a cat. Speak now, or for ever hold your peace.'

‘Prrryow!' Pandora nagged sharply.

‘All right.' I snatched the carrying case before he could change his mind. ‘Thank you. Thanks –'

Penny closed in and collected the basket with all Pandora's things in it. Helena smiled her slow, catlike smile. Pandora might be going, but there would be no lack of cats in Roger Chesne-Malvern's home life from now on.

‘Come on,' Gerry urged. ‘This is going to be a
real
celebration now.'

‘All right,' I agreed, ‘we'll have a few drinks at the pub. And then,' I said to Pandora, ‘we're going home.