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

must really want to see this Show.’
    â€˜We’ve got to get in. So we have to save all the money we get. But –’ she smiled enchantingly – ‘if you give us hamburgers, we’ll have to eat them. Because you can’t save them up.’
    â€˜You’re right.’ The kid’s logic was irrefutable. Her arithmetic was pretty good, too. Somehow, the hamburger I’d planned on buying her had been parlayed into three hamburgers.
    â€˜Three more hamburgers,’ I conceded without a struggle. ‘And I suppose you could use three Pepsis, too?’
    â€˜Oooh, thank you, mister.’ She turned and signalled to her companions. The older boy glowered disapprovingly – I gathered he was Brian and would rather have had the money – but the younger boy came running up to help her carry the loot. I helped load them up, conscious of a glow of virtue. The poor kids were probably starving, and it was nearly noontime.
    I was back inside the Exhibition before I realized that I was only carrying one hamburger, and Pandora was waiting for me. I debated whether it was worth continuing to be in the doghouse with her, and decided to put it to her squarely.
    â€˜Look,’ I said reasonably, ‘for reasons too involved to go into, this is all I was able to get. I’m hungry. How about going halves with me?’
    Cocking her head to one side, she appeared to consider the proposition. Then, lashing one paw out suddenly, she hooked the meat out from the middle of the bun and carried it into the corner of her cage, leaving me with my half – the empty bun.
    â€˜Thanks a lot,’ I said bitterly. ‘You’re a real sport.’ Sneering, she settled down to enjoy her hamburger. The onions didn’t seem to bother her at all. In fact, she seemed to enjoy them, too.
    I nibbled moodily at the dry bun, but gave up and roamed off to find the litter bin I’d noticed at some earlier point in my travels.
    â€˜Psst, Doug.’ The hail from behind the shrubbery startled me. Brooding over the injustices of the world, I had nearly forgotten the reason I had come back to the Exhibition unfed. Dave Prendergast, motioning me into his stall, reminded me.
    â€˜Doug, am I glad to see you! Listen, have you seen Rose Chesne-Malvern yet?’
    â€˜No,’ I said, ‘only her cat – she was in a lousy mood, too.’
    â€˜Listen, Doug,’ Dave said urgently, ‘there’s something funny going on. I can’t get to the bottom of it, I’m stuck here on the Stand. But you can wander around –’
    He was a nice guy, but a bit naïve. It didn’t seem to occur to him that I had no interest in getting to the bottom of anything funny. Quite the contrary. I just wanted to ignore it. And make sure the newspapers ignored it, too. I tried to give him a gentle hint.
    â€˜The Press are here,’ I said. ‘We’re photographing the Private Opening soon. Just cool it, will you?’
    â€˜Oh.’ The idea seemed to startle him. ‘Sure, Doug, sure. I’m sorry. I just got carried away –’
    â€˜Well, don’t,’ I said. ‘It was quite enough to have the Security Guard carried away. We want to soft-pedal that sort of thing. We’re concentrating on the nice pretty little moggies, remember?’
    â€˜Okay, Doug, sure, but I think I ought to tip you off –’ I saw, gloomily, that Dave was going to have no nonsense about bearing a burden alone and privately – ‘I heard the ambulance men talking. They found the Guard right here, you know, under those stairs. And the intern said he couldn’t explain those head injuries at all. He said they couldn’t possibly have been incurred by just falling down stairs!’ He leaned back and looked at me expectantly.
    â€˜Thank you, Dave,’ I said. ‘I’ll bear that in mind. It will lighten many a dark hour for me. I hope you don’t