Read Online Murder on Show by Marian Babson - Free Book Online

she retracted her claws, and backed with it to the far corner of her stall, giving me a chummy growl that dared me to come after her and try to retrieve it.
    â€˜I wouldn’t dream of it,’ I told her. ‘Ladies first. Motherhood must be served – and all that sort of thing.’
    Helena Keswick watched us both with amusement. Mother Brown paused and raked a bit of fried onion off the hamburger.
    â€˜I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I’d have told them to hold the onion, if I’d known. Is the ketchup all right?’
    Helena Keswick laughed out loud. I began to feel that the hamburger might be considered an investment in good will – as well as being eligible for the Expense Account. ‘You wouldn’t,’ I offered it to her, ‘care for a slightly used bun, would you?’
    â€˜It’s amazing,’ she chortled. ‘I can’t believe it didn’t happen by accident, but Rose Chesne-Malvern actually got the right PRO for this Exhibition.’
    But an accident-prone Security Guard. To put the best possible light on it.
    It didn’t seem a good thing to say to Helena Keswick, however. She’d been under a strain, worrying about Mother Brown and her brood. She had a right to some light relief. I bowed to her and continued on my way. There was just one more stop I had to make before I began worrying about the two-legged characters.
    I might as well not have bothered. Although she had been watching my approach, Pandora wasn’t speaking to me. She made that quite clear, turning her back as I came up to our – her – stall.
    â€˜Look,’ I said, ‘I couldn’t help it. You saw her. She just waltzed up and snatched it away from me. I ask you, what could I do?
    Turning her head only slightly, she damned me for a faithless wretch, unworthy of the devotion of a poor, honest, trusting cat.
    â€˜Look,’ I said desperately, leaning on the rail, ‘just tell me – what could I do? Did you expect me to belt her one, or something? Haven’t you any regard for the sanctity of the home and motherhood, and all that?’
    She uncurled slowly and turned to face me. Unhurriedly, she sauntered over. I was just relaxing, thinking we were friends again, when she hooked her claws into the back of my hand. Remembering Helena Keswick’s advice, I froze.
    â€˜Grryah!’ she snarled, deliberately pulling her claws the length of my hand and removing several shreds of skin. Then she sauntered back to the farthest corner of her stall and crouched down, back to me, tail curled around her, still muttering imprecations.
    â€˜All right,’ I said, licking the back of my hand and trying to avoid Marcus Opal’s sympathetic gaze, ‘all right, I can take a hint.’
    I stormed outside to the hamburger stall again. ‘Two,’ I ordered, ‘forget the bun on one of them.’
    But the order was too confusing. While the concessionaire attempted to argue it out with me, I became aware of a pair of pleading eyes just above knee level.
    â€˜Are you going to eat two hamburgers, mister?’ she asked. ‘All by yourself ?’
    She was nearly as good as Pandora at making me feel a great, hulking, insensitive brute. ‘Why, are you hungry?’
    â€˜Oh, yes, please. ’ Her eyes glowed with hope, but dimmed as I pulled a handful of change out of my pocket.
    â€˜What’s the matter?’ Belatedly, I remembered that most children are trained never to take money or sweets from strangers. Unless, of course, they’re collecting for a Guy.
    â€˜If you give us money,’ she said, ‘Brian won’t let us spend it. Because we’ve got to get into the Show. And we have to pay our fares, too.’
    â€˜Fares?’ I was momentarily diverted. ‘Where do you come from, then?’
    â€˜Peckham,’ she said.
    â€˜Peckham – that’s the other side of the city and across the river. You