Nancy J. Bailey - Furry Murder 01 - My Best Cat (17 page)

Then he turned, batted his eyes and looked at me, and smiled that disarming grin.  “Thanks for putting so much thought into this, Norwich.  It’s good to have the help.”

That pissed me off.  I thought it was overly condescending.  I was insulted, but more importantly, I needed to get back to the fact that someone had died, and I knew who had done it.  My gut knew.  My gut was never wrong.

“Don’t dismiss this,
dammit!”  I snapped.  “That girl is sick.  She needs to be watched.  If you don’t take this seriously than I’ll watch her myself.  I’ll be her goddamn stalker until I get proof -”

Just then, an exhibitor came rushing out of the show hall.  She was a slightly obese woman, clearly not used to running.  She was flushed, breathing heavily.  She rushed up to us and bent over gasping for air.

Reynolds put his hand on her arm.  “Whoa, just calm down there.  Breathe.  Relax.  What’s the matter?”

She straightened, her head tipped back and eyes closed.  Her lips trembled.  “There’s been another killing.”

“Show me where.”

She turned and Reynolds followed her.   “It’s in the restroom.”

“Again?”  he said.  “Who is it?  Anyone we know?’

“Tracy Pringle.”

Chapter Forty Three

Cecilia Fox

Sunday Morning

Admittedly, I was having the time of my life. Kenya was showing great.  I wasn’t sure what to do about Zephyr.  He didn’t get along with Kenya, so I decided to leave him in the show hall.  That security guard lady in the tennis shoes had said she would look after him.  I still felt bad.  I thought about shutting him in the bathroom, or Kenya, but they howled all night when we did that.  The people next door pounded on the walls.  Rox
anne had formerly solved the problem by leaving Zephyr in the car all night.  But I didn’t want to do that. 

It was kind of funny how things worked out, how he was suddenly my responsibility.  The ancient Egyptians believed that the cat was sacred.  It carried its owner’s soul into the next world.  When an aristocrat died, the cat was killed and buried with him or her.  Mummies of these cats were dug up with the mummies of pharaohs. 

Abyssinian breeders claimed that their cats originated in ancient Egypt.  With the Somali being the longhaired version of the same breed, the whole theory was hitting a little close to home.  In a way it was kind of romantic, but I recoiled at the idea of euthanizing Zephyr now that Roxanne was dead.  Granted, she could probably use all the help she could get.

I wondered what would become of him.  That morning he let me know he didn’t appreciate my decision.  He scolded me severely when I showed up.

“I’m sorry!  Here!  Have some cat food!”  I peeled off the top of some Ocean Delight and scooped it into his bowl.  Zephyr pranced back and forth in anticipation, squalling the whole time until finally I managed to get the door open and shove the food in there.  He ate like he’d been starved for weeks.  I could see why she had made him wear a bib.

I sighed and opened Kenya’s crate.  He marched out and without hesitation leaped up onto Zephyr’s grooming table.  He smelled the food and reached a paw in through the bars.  Zephyr growled a warning.  Kenya hissed a retort just as I grabbed him.

“None of that!”  I popped him into his own cage.  He smiled up at me and blinked.  Again, he showed no resentment for being handled somewhat roughly.  He was always just so happy to have any attention at all.

It was so good to have my kitty back.  I couldn’t help but beam at Andrew every time I saw him.  He approached now, giving a customary little skip in his step, as if traveling horizontally just wasn’t using up enough steam. 

“It never rains but it pours!”  He put his hands up on his cheeks just like that kid in the “Home Alone” movie.   “Just when you think it’s safe to go back in the show hall, voila, there’s another murder!”

“What? 
Who?”

“Tracy Pringle, how appropriate!
  She’s in the can!”

“What?”

“They just found her in the restroom.  The same restroom!  She was strangled with a purple boa.  It was a duplicate of my aunt’s killing.  She’s dead.  Period!”   He put his hands up and mimed quotations with his fingers as he said the last word.

“Oh my God!
  Surely they’re going to cancel the cat show.”

“I would think so!  One murder may be no big deal, but two?  What’s the Statute of Limitations for Cat Show Murders, anyway?”

I looked around.

“I know,” he said.  “Now this is starting to give me the creeps.  At least whoever the killer is, they are showing good judgment in their choice of victims.”

“Who makes these decisions?”

“I
dunno.  Somebody with a lot of upper body strength.  Either that or a serious case of P.M.S.”

“No, silly, I mean about the show going on.”

“Oh that.  Um, I believe that would be the show manager.”

“Who is that?”

“He’s over at the scene right now talking to the fuzz.  You don’t want them to cancel the show, do you?  Kenya’s doing a bang up job!  It would be a pity.”

“Well.  I
dunno.  It just seems like the right thing to do.”

“Oh pshaw!
  Right thing, wrong thing, what’s the diff.  Life goes on.  It’s short!  Enjoy!”  He turned and walked away, even whistling as he went.

I sat down.  He was right.  Life was short.  For some people, it was way shorter.  I sat there and looked around at the exhibitors, clustered into small groups, murmuring together.  The cats, exhausted by the long weekend, slept in their respective cages.  Yes, it was true, life went on.  I had no fondness for Tracy Pringle.

I was, however, developing a fondness for Andrew.  It was too bad he wasn’t straight.  The way he was always so happy was kind of twisted, but infectious.  The way he had returned my kitty was heroic.  I must do something to reciprocate, in some way.

I decided to go shop for some cat toys, thinking maybe I could get something special for
Hotsy.  They had a wonderful selection of furry mice at the Cat’s Cradle booth.  I headed over that way.  As I passed the jewelry, I stopped to look in the display case.  There were rings like Roxanne’s, one with green emerald eyes just like hers.  I always thought them extremely tacky.  But I felt a pang of guilt.  She was dead, and I was having fun.

“Can I help you?” asked the vendor lady.  Today she was wearing a huge purple turban, with a saucer-sized orange cat head pin glittering on the front wrap.

“Could I see that ring?”  I asked.

“Surely.”
  She opened the case and pulled it out and handed it to me.

I held it, admiring the way the emeralds shone in the dull show hall lights.  I turned it over to look at the tag.  $349.00, it said.

“It’s on special,” the vendor said.  “Because – well – you know.  In memory.  Nobody liked her but she was one of my best customers.  She was always nice to deal with.  She was here all the time, looking at new stuff.”

“I see.”

“If I can help you with anything else, just say so!” she said.

Just then I noticed a flaw in the gold; where a small part had flaked up and shone silver beneath, right below the cat’s chin.

“No thank you,” I said, trying to keep my voice from sounding prim.  I handed the ring back and walked away.

No wonder she and Roxanne got along so well.  This vendor lady was a rip-off artist too.

Chapter Forty Four

Wesley Taft

Sunday

SuMe
still hadn’t come out.  I knew we were going to have to wait until the show was over, and then pull those cursed bleachers out.

I was through making excuses for Max.  He hadn’t even bothered to stop by and see if I needed anything.  The more hours dragged by, the
more angry I was getting.  How could he be so petty and uncaring?  If he wasn’t worried about me, he could at least have shown some concern for SuMe.  I was getting frightened, too.  What if he had disappeared?  Why hadn’t he at least called the show management and left a message telling me where he was?  I had suffered through the loss of a beloved cat.  I wouldn’t be able to take losing my partner as well.

The show just went on as if nothing had happened.  A few of the gnome-like exhibitors had stopped by on Saturday to ask me why I was stationed here, but the word got around quickly and now none of them seemed to care.  They just went on with their frantic brushing and fluffing, immersed in their trivial search for points, and their ringside gossip, behaving as if I wasn’t even there.  That didn’t surprise me a bit.  I’d just as soon they all left me alone anyway.

I had gone through different scenarios in my head, of what I would do when I saw Max again.  First I’d tell him off.  Give him both barrels.  Really let him have it.  Then I would grab him, hold him close and beg him never to leave me like that again.  When I imagined the scenario, again and again, my eyes would well up.  It had been a very emotional and exhausting time.

It crossed my mind more than once during those torturous hours, that maybe I’d never see him again.  I didn’t want to think about that.  So I decided to just stay pissed off.

But Max did reappear that Sunday morning, looking all freshly showered, rested and appropriately sheepish.

“Where the hell have you been?” I said.  “Do you realize what I’ve been through?”

“I’m sorry.  Look, I – “

“Sorry isn’t good enough!  Our baby is in there!”  I pointed under the bleachers.  “And you have just abandoned us both!  We’re supposed to be in this together!  Do you know what it’s like to sleep on the floor, night after night, wondering if she’s okay, wondering if and when she’s going to come out, and where the hell you are?”

“Well, somebody had to look after Reva.”

I hesitated.  This was true.  “Well, maybe we could have discussed it!  You know, done shifts or something!  I mean, who decided which of us would stay here?”

“Yeah, like you would have left her!”

I paused.  He had a point.

“But you’re right,” he added.  “I was a jerk – no, a dick – to leave you at a time like this.  I should have at least checked in.  I was pissed off because you didn’t just grab SuMe when you had the chance.  I thought we had lost another one.  And I was blaming you.  But it wasn’t fair, and it was wrong of me.  You know me, I just have to go off and sulk for awhile and sort things out.  I am sorry.”

I nodded.  “I just figured it was revenge for the
Godspell thing.”

His nose wrinkled. 
“Godspell?  What the hell are you talking about?”

“You know, you being so upset that I was in the show.”

“You think I was staying away because of that?”

“Well, yeah.  It crossed my mind.”

He huffed a little laugh, but then stopped himself.  He shook his head at me, but his eyes shone with affection.  “No, it wasn’t revenge for Godspell.  I was a dick then too.  I should have come and seen your show.”

“Um, yeah.”

“It just seemed like you were doing so much better than I was.  I hated it.  I couldn’t accept the loss of Rusty the way you could.  You are so much stronger.”

“Oh, no!
  You have me all wrong.  I wasn’t accepting it.  I was running away from it.  Looking for a diversion.  I’m not strong at all.”

“Don’t underestimate yourself, honey.  I should have just acted like an adult and used you as an example instead of resenting you for it.  I’m so sorry.”

“Well,” I sighed.  “You and I are okay, as far as I’m concerned.  We both miss Rusty, that’s a given.  But we have a new kid now who needs us.  I guess the thing to do now is just concentrate on the problem at hand.”

He nodded.  “I’ve got an idea about how to get her out.  But it’s going to require a lot of cooperation from the other cat people here.”

I snorted.  “Good luck.”

“I think it will work.  I’ll talk to them.”

“Don’t try to talk them into anything without some bonbons.  Here.”  I tossed him a couple of Nestles Crunch bars that Kim had given me earlier.  “You’ll need bribery material.”

Chapter Forty Five

Andrew Gilbert

Sunday