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

intend to confide that little item to too many. I mean, like not more than one reporter from each newspaper?’
    â€˜Oh.’ Something in my tone finally got through to him. ‘I wouldn’t do that, Doug. Honest, I wouldn’t. I just thought you ought to know. I mean, if I don’t tell you, who ought I to tell?’
    Who, indeed? ‘Okay, Dave,’ I said. ‘Just leave it with me, will you?’
    â€˜Oh, sure, Doug, that’s what I meant. That’s all I intended to do. Honest. I can keep my mouth shut.’ He shuffled through several boxes of his product anxiously, like a gambler shuffling cards to reassure himself that he hadn’t lost his touch.
    â€˜Here.’ He picked up a couple of large size boxes of Pussy No-Poo and thrust them at me. ‘Compliments of the house. No,’ as I hesitated, ‘I mean it. Take them.’
    There was nothing else I could do. ‘Well thanks,’ I said, recognizing the gesture of amends, rather than fully appreciating it. ‘That’s kind of you.’
    â€˜Think nothing of it.’ He began bustling about the Stand, rearranging the display.
    It seemed to be my cue to move along. ‘See you later.’ I glanced at my watch and discovered that the Exhibition was faking its opening in less than an hour. I knew from experience how fast things would move from this point to the Opening. Already, I was aware of the growing crowds surging through the Hall, of the cameramen, of the bright lights and cables snaking along the floor that meant the television cameras were waiting.
    I moved back to the Special Exhibits. That was where it was all going to be happening. The concentration of portable lights was brightest around the satin curtains shrouding the gold Whittington Cat.
    When Kellington Dasczo stepped forward, made his witty little speech and pulled the cord to part the curtains and display the gold image to the public gaze, the Exhibition would be ‘officially’ open, although the public wouldn’t come in until tomorrow.
    Whatever my personal opinion of him, my duty seemed to lie with Kellington Dasczo at the moment. I checked in at the booth opposite. Pearlie King was immaculately groomed, smooth short coat gleaming, pearl-button collar glowing against the dark fur.
    Kellington was slightly less well-groomed. Not seeming to notice, he was giving a final brushing to Pearlie King’s sleek fur.
    â€˜Hadn’t you better change?’ I suggested. ‘You’re on in twenty minutes.’
    â€˜Yes, yes,’ he said abstractedly. ‘Plenty of time. I just want to get Pearlie King quite settled first.’
    â€˜This might help.’ On impulse, I proffered one of the large boxes of Pussy No-Poo. ‘Compliments of Dave Prendergast. It’s quite good, really. Pandora likes it.’
    After I’d said it, I felt absurd, giving Pandora as a sort of reference for the stuff. But Kellington didn’t seem to find anything odd about it.
    â€˜Really?’ He snatched at the packet eagerly. ‘I say, that’s most awfully good of you – and what’s-his-name. Pearlie has been put off a bit by the disgraceful stuff the Committee provided.’
    Quite unselfconsciously, he ripped open the packet and poured it into the earth tray. Pearlie King watched with interest and went over to sniff at it as soon as he had finished.
    â€˜Ah,’ Kellington breathed, ‘I do think that’s going to do the trick. You are kind.’ He beamed at me approvingly. ‘You know, I’ve underestimated you. Oh, I always knew you were clever – rather facile, I thought. I never realized you were so sensitive, had so much feeling – I mean, I didn’t know you were a cat person!’
    I bowed wordlessly. It seemed to be his ultimate in compliments. ‘So, now you know,’ I said, deciding to trade on whatever new reputation I had established in his eyes. ‘So, now,