Nancy J. Bailey - Furry Murder 01 - My Best Cat (5 page)

Chapter Seven

Kim Norwich

Saturday Afternoon

Larry Cox’s ring was empty, except for the clerk who was sitting at one end of the long table, writing in a notebook.  She looked up as Detective Reynolds and I approached.  She smiled brightly and slapped her book shut.  She was short and overweight, with big blonde hair and dimples.  I recognized the girl, having seen her at this same show the year prior.  I noticed she had one eye that drifted inward.  It bothered me.  In my experience, folks with crooked features had a crooked nature to match.  I hated to stereotype, but it always seemed to be that way.

She pushed her chair back, stood up and brushed off the front of her sweater.  She was wearing a tight red v-neck that I thought didn’t become her at all.  She came strutting over, and that was the only way to describe the way she walked – a strut.  She was wearing pumps and they clicked authoritatively across the floor as she approached.  Her blonde curls bobbed.  She was shorter than I, standing about five foot three.  She beamed up at Reynolds, her dimples a forming a dark comma on each cheek.  “Hello!  Can I help you?”

Reynolds was scanning around the ring, and I noticed his eyes fall upon the group of rosettes that were displayed on the far end of the row of seats.  “I’m Detective Reynolds.”

The girl held out her hand.  “I’m Tracy.  I’m Larry’s ring clerk.”

Reynolds took her hand and shook it, and smiled back at her.  It was obvious that he thought she was cute.  Okay.  Maybe cross-eyed broads appealed to him.  I glanced over my shoulder, looking for the judge.

“Where is the judge?”  Reynolds asked at that moment.

“Oh, they are having a meeting over at the show manager’s table.” Tracy nodded toward the far corner of the show hall.

“A meeting?”
  Reynolds said.

“Yes.”  Tracy spoke with all-knowing authority, blustering with self-importance.  “Apparently they are trying to decide if the show should continue.”

She said the word “apparently” with special emphasis on the “parent” part.  She really was annoying.

Reynolds squinted, an expression that was becoming familiar to me.   “Do you mean to tell me that they would actually go on with this show, when there has been a murder here?”

Tracy squeezed her lips together.  “Well, the club means no disrespect to the victim, but we have a lot invested here.  It would stir up quite a bee’s nest if the show had to be canceled.  People come from all over to attend this.  One of the judges has flown all the way from Japan.”

Reynolds stood and stared at her.  His mouth was not open, but it might as well have been.  I stepped forward.  “Has this ring had any finals yet?”

Tracy looked me up and down, with the haughty expression of one who thought I was speaking out of turn.  I merely stood and waited.  Reynolds said nothing.

“Well,” she said finally.  “Yesterday we did the championship finals. 
Allbreed premiers and kittens were scheduled for today.  Why do you ask?”

“Did you have a rosette missing?”

There was that pause again.  She looked at Reynolds.  I wanted to slap her.  But Reynolds made no excuse for me, and instead just stood there watching her expectantly.  He scored big points for that.

Tracy threw her hands up in a dramatic gesture.  “I really don’t know.  I think all rosettes were present and accounted for.  But it was not my job to keep track of rosettes.  The ring stewards do that. I had my hands full taking care of the judge’s book and make sure everything was marked.  Plus I had to see to it that Larry had his fresh coffee delivered.  He loves his coffee.”

“You and the judge are on a first name basis?”

“That’s not unusual!” she snapped.  She turned back to Reynolds and her tone immediately changed to solicitous.  “How is the investigation going?”

He smiled and patted her arm.  I couldn’t believe it. 

“It’s going just fine, thanks for asking,” he said.  “We’ve got it under control.”

“Well, if you need more information, or help with anything.  Anything at all!”

She was not flirting so much as kissing his ass.  I wasn’t sure she knew how to flirt.  But she sure had the ass-kissing nailed.

“Thank you,” he said.  Was he really falling for this crap?

She turned and walked back to her table, and when she sat down, she looked at him, tilted her head and smiled in a way that was obviously rehearsed.  He smiled back at her.  I thought I was going to need an antacid.

“Let’s go find Larry Cox,” Reynolds turned and walked away. 

I followed him.  I wasn’t sure what to think of Reynolds.  He wasn’t so easy to figure out.  I usually had everyone analyzed during my first moments with them, but he was different.  I couldn’t read him yet.  The way he had smiled, touched her arm.  He may have been just pacifying her.  Maybe that was giving him too much credit.  He was, after all, still just a man.  They all were pigs.

We walked past the rows of cages, past the vendors with their big kitty umbrellas and cat statues and racks of cat sweatshirts.  Every group of people that we passed fell silent and watched us.  The gaggle of judges that were clustered in the corner reacted the same way, turning to watch us approach with somber faces.

“That’s Larry, there, the skinny one in the ugly jungle tie,” I whispered.

Larry turned, his naturally dark complexion a bit ashen.  He was a wormy sort, thin with long tapering arms and a stretchy, craning neck.  His eyes drooped downward sadly at the corners.  His Adam’s apple bobbed distractingly when he spoke, a knobby orb out of place with the angular rest of him.

“Hello officer,” he said.

“Mr. Cox,” Reynolds stepped forward, reaching out, his wide palm dwarfing Larry’s spidery digits as they shook hands.  “I’m Detective Reynolds.  How are you?  Can I have a word?”

“Of course.”
  Larry nodded toward his ring.  “I was just about to go back over.  Nobody really knows what to do.”

“Understandable,” Reynolds said.

They turned and walked back.  I said nothing, staying just a couple of steps behind them.  Reynolds stopped suddenly, turning toward me, holding his hand out.  “Mr. Cox, do you know Miss Norwich?  She’s head of security here.”

Larry nodded back to me, his eyes dilated, their whites threaded with red.  He really looked a most unhealthy man.  I felt Reynolds’ hand on my sleeve, guiding me gently forward, positioning me between them.  I had the impulse to jerk my arm away, but when I looked up he was smiling at me.  We walked back to Larry’s ring, the three of us, side by side.

When we reached the ring, Tracy looked up from her notes and smiled.  “Hello there.  Everything okay, Larry?”

“Just fine,” Larry said absently.

Reynolds gestured to the rack of rosettes.  “These match the rosette that was found with the victim.  I need to ask you a couple of questions.”

Larry nodded. 
“Certainly.”

I looked quickly at Tracy, whose head was bent over her catalog, suddenly appearing overzealous in her record-keeping task.  I knew she was listening.

Reynolds continued.  “Do you remember any rosettes missing from yesterday?”

“No, the championship final had all rosettes present and accounted for.”

“The one we found with the victim said, ‘Tenth Best Cat’ on it.  Do you remember who your tenth best cat was?”

“It’s easy enough to find out.  It’s all recorded,” Larry said.  “Tracy, honey, pass me that notebook, would you please?”

Tracy smiled and brought the book over.  Larry flipped quickly through it.  “Ah.  Here it is.  Tenth Best was Tracy’s own cat, here, the blue Abyssinian.”

Reynolds looked up at her, grinning.  Larry
glanced her way nervously.

Butter wouldn’t melt in Tracy’s mouth.  She stood before us calmly, smiling.

“Someone swipe your rosette?”  Reynolds said.

Again, the dramatic hand gesture.
  “I really wouldn’t know.  I’ve been busy here with my clerking duties.  I haven’t had two seconds to spend with Baloo all day.  Plus, we usually don’t keep rosettes.  We donate them back to the club.”

My eyes narrowed.  It was difficult to imagine someone like this not displaying a rosette.  In fact, she probably took them all home and hung them from her mailbox.  She was lying.

But Reynolds, being the foolish man that he was, just beamed at her.  Larry nodded.  He turned back to Reynolds.  “Any other questions?”

“What time yesterday did this final take place?”  Reynolds said.

Larry opened his mouth, but Tracy blurted the answer.  “About six p.m.  It was late.”

I glared at her.  “He wasn’t asking you.”

She did not even deign to turn her head my way.

“It’s all right,” Reynolds said.

“We had a lot of cats to get through,” she went on.  “The show doesn’t usually run that late, but Larry judged the entire class that day and the Allbreed classes at this show are huge.  Some of the best cats in the country are here.”

“Did Roxanne’s cat place in that final?”  I spoke this time, directing my question to Tracy.

She threw up her hands again.  “I really couldn’t say.  I know he gave Best Cat to a white Persian, and after that things got all muddled.”

Larry skimmed over the book.  “The Somali, yes, I remember him. 
Beautiful animal.  I think he placed third or fourth.” 

“Well, his ears are a bit high for my taste,” Tracy said.  “I am sure Larry noticed that part, but of course he didn’t comment on that in his final.  He only says nice things about the cat, no matter what it looks like.”

“He was fourth,” Larry pointed to the list and held the book out to us.

Reynolds nodded.

“That’s why he didn’t go higher, because of the ears,” Tracy added.  “My cat Baloo has perfect ears, but of course he is a blue, which is a minority color, so I’m grateful he was even in the top ten.”  She gave a little laugh.  “Thanks again, Larry!”

Larry handed the book to Reynolds.  He turned to Tracy.  “Your blue
Aby is lovely but it wasn’t the color that held him back.  It was his leg bars.”

Tracy was silent for a moment, but I saw a muscle in her cheek quiver.  Reynolds seemed to be ignoring this exchange and was again scanning the area.

“Well,” Tracy said.  “It’s just shadow barring.  The standard does mention leg bars as a fault, but it doesn’t say anything about shadow barring.”

“That’s exactly right,” Larry said calmly.  “It doesn’t say anything about shadow barring, because there is no such thing.”

“Ask any Aby breeder about shadow barring.  They will tell you.  It’s not an actual bar.  It’s simply a darker version of the undercoat.”

“That’s what a bar is!  A darker version of the cat’s coloring, on the legs or throat, or anywhere it’s not supposed to be!”

“Well, this is clearly another case where the breeder knows the breed better than the judge does.”

“I bred Abyssinians for ten years!”  Larry was clearly becoming irritated.  I couldn’t believe this little cheerleader was getting a rise out of him.  I looked at Reynolds, but he was simply watching them quietly.

“I realize you raised Abys, Larry, but you had red and ruddy cats only.  You didn’t work with the dilute colors,”  Tracy said.

Larry’s red-rimmed eyes were popping now.  “It doesn’t matter!  Color is color!  Markings are markings!”

“And shadow barring is shadow barring.  Period.”

“It doesn’t make a difference!”

“Yes it does.”
”I’m afraid not.  It’s just a variation of the same flaw.”

“Look, I’ll be happy to bring
Baloo over and you can take another look at him under the lights.  I can explain the difference between his leg bars and the true actual barring of a flawed cat.”

Reynolds, whom I expected to have ended this by now, was standing back with a bemused expression.  I said nothing.  Tracy stood with her arms folded and a tiny smirk glimmering on her face.  Her dimple
appeared, a groove in her cheek, like a glaring symbol of her amused contempt.  Larry seemed to have forgotten we were there.

“I don’t need to look at the cat again,” he said.

“Well, see, that’s the trouble.”

“What is the trouble?”
Tracy stifled a sigh, making a great show of being patient with him.  “When I get into the judging program, no matter how long I am a judge, I hope I never stop learning.”

“Are you saying that I have?”

“Your attitude speaks for itself!”

“My attitude?”

“I feel sorry for you, Larry.  You’re stagnating.”

The next thing I knew, Larry’s hand had flashed forward and he slapped her, with a loud crack, right across the face.

“Hey!”  Reynolds leaped forward and grabbed his arm. 

Tracy didn’t move, except to reach up and touch her cheek lightly with the palm of her hand.  Her face did not register any surprise at all.  She said nothing.

Reynolds glared at Larry.  “Man, what is wrong with you?”