Free Murder on Show by Marian Babson Page B

don’t think you’ll have heard of it yet –’
    It was the perfect bait for an advertising man – they have to be in on the latest. Dave rose eagerly. ‘Well, maybe we can talk this over some more –’
    â€˜We’ll discuss it in depth,’ Gerry promised, tipping me the nod. I relaxed, knowing I could safely leave Dave to him.
    There was just one other thing. As the last lights went out, I palmed the last chunk of cheese on my plate and slipped it into my pocket.
    The Exhibition Hall was dark in the late-afternoon gloom, except for the palely-lit aisle of the Special Exhibits. Again, I felt the unspoken approval as I walked along. ‘Here she is, Douglas,’ Helena Keswick called to me. We had all slipped over into first name terms, closing ranks against the invading police and reporters.
    I halted. Pandora was sitting in the lap of a man who seemed to be visiting Helena. Neither of them appeared to be over-enthusiastic about the arrangement and, seeing me, Pandora gathered herself and took a flying leap, landing on my shoulder.
    â€˜Pprrryeh?’ She nuzzled my ear. Now that I had come back, it appeared that she was glad to see me.
    Marcus Opal looked at us enviously and sketched a wave, as he walked past, heading for the bedroom corridor. As soon as he had gone, Precious Black Jade opened baleful eyes and glared after him resentfully.
    Helena’s visitor unfolded from the low chair and held out his hand to me. ‘Nice to see you again, Mr Perkins,’ he said. ‘I must say, I didn’t expect you to be still here.’
    â€˜Perkins & Tate never desert their post when the firing starts,’ I said, taking his hand. I recognized him now. Roger Chesne-Malvern, presumably come to stand beside his wife in her hour of trial. Uneasily, I looked around, ready to disappear if I saw any sign of her. I’d frankly had as much of Rose Chesne-Malvern as I could stand in one day.
    Pandora rocked unsteadily for a moment, then settled to her haunches and edged forward, lying half on my shoulder and half along the back of my neck. Roger Chesne-Malvern smiled faintly.
    â€˜You seem to have made a hit with Pandora,’ he said. I remembered suddenly. ‘Should you be here? I mean, your allergy. Isn’t this the worst place in the world –?’
    â€˜I’ve been to the doctor,’ he said. ‘Had a couple of shots. Been taking them for quite a while now, actually. Immunizing treatment. With any luck ...’ he shrugged.
    â€˜We’re all keeping our fingers crossed for you,’ Helena said warmly. ‘This visit –’ her eyes met mine warningly ‘is by way of being a test run. Rose doesn’t know he’s been taking these treatments.’ One eyebrow twitched upward disparagingly. ‘He doesn’t want to raise her hopes too high.’
    So Rose Chesne-Malvern wasn’t around. I relaxed and smiled at Roger Chesne-Malvern, although I still felt a bit awkward about wearing his wife’s prize-winning cat as a neckpiece. ‘I hope it works,’ I said. ‘I mean, it’s tough, being allergic, when your wife’s so fond of cats.’ I did hope it worked, I’d thought of the happy ending. ‘You could stop boarding Pandora out then,’ I said. ‘You could keep her at home with you.’
    â€˜Yes.’ Roger Chesne-Malvern smiled oddly. ‘Pandora is a nice little cat.’
    Helena murmured something to him, and he turned to answer her. I remembered the chunk of cheese and fished it out of my pocket, brushing bits of lint off it, and lifted it shoulder high. ‘Fancy a snack?’ I asked.
    Greased lightning snapped at my fingers and flashed to the floor, carrying half the cheese with it. She was a lady – at least, she’d left my fingers. Most of them, and there was still an inch-thick, two-inch-long, wedge of cheese left in them. I looked at it consideringly,