“What time is it?” Jack groaned when I climbed out of bed.
“Seven.”
“Why are you getting up?”
“I have to go to the cat show, remember?”
“I feel like death.” He looked like it too.
“It’s your own fault. You must have really been putting it away last night.”
“Could you speak a little quieter, please? My head is pounding.” He rubbed his temple. “I only had three or four drinks.”
“And the rest. When the taxi dropped you home, you were singing at the top of your voice.”
“I wasn’t. Was I?”
“Goodness knows what the neighbours will think. No one wants to be woken by the laughing policeman at four in the morning.”
“What was I laughing at?”
“You weren’t. That’s what you were singing: The Laughing Policeman.”
“I think I’m going to be sick.” He jumped out of bed and rushed to the loo.
“Would you like me to make you a nice, greasy fry-up?” I shouted through the toilet door, on my way past.
Snigger.
After a couple of slices of toast and a cup of tea, I went upstairs to get showered and dressed. Jack was back in bed, doing his best impression of a corpse.
“Feeling any better, Dearest?”
“Not really. How come you’re okay?”
“Because I didn’t get drunk last night.”
“I think I might stay in bed today.” He rolled over.
“You have to do the weekly shop.”
“Can’t you do it?”
“I’m going to be at the cat show all day.”
“Can’t I just order it online?”
“There won’t be any slots left for delivery today.”
“I’ll go later.” He put the pillow over his head. “If I don’t die first.”
“Don’t be such a wuss. It’s only a hangover.”
I’d often pondered what career I might pursue if I ever hung up my P.I. boots. It struck me that I’d make a good nurse, what with my empathy, compassion and bedside manner.
***
When I arrived at Kathy’s house, Lizzie was watching for me through the front window. I was only half way up the drive when she opened the door.
“Mummy’s poorly, Auntie Jill. Can we still go to the cat show? Please!”
“What’s wrong with your mummy?”
“She’s been sick. Daddy’s not very well either.”
Peter appeared in the doorway, looking as white as a sheet.
“Morning.” He managed through dry lips.
“You look about as good as Jack.”
“He got home okay, then?”
“Eventually. Where’s Kathy?”
“In the lounge. Come on in.”
If I’d thought Jack and Peter looked bad, that was nothing compared to Kathy who was lying on the sofa, feeling very sorry for herself. “I’m sorry, Jill. I’m not going to be able to make it.”
“Can we still go, Auntie Jill?” Lizzie pleaded.
“Of course we can. Where’s Mikey?”
“My mother is keeping him at her house until tonight,” Peter said. “She brought Lizzie back because of the cat show.”
“Right, Lizzie.” I took her hand. “You go and get in the car while I say goodbye to your mummy and daddy.”
“Okay!” She rushed out of the house.
“I’m really sorry, Jill,” Kathy said.
“You owe me big time for this.”
“I know. I’ll make it up to you.”
“You sure will.”
As I left the house, Kathy was headed for the bathroom.
“What’s the matter with mummy and daddy?” Lizzie asked, as we drove into Washbridge.
“It’s probably just a bug. They’ll be better by the time we get back.”
***
As we climbed the stairs to my offices, a horrible thought struck me. What if Winky wasn’t there? If he’d spent the night at one of his many lady friends’, he could easily have forgotten about the cat show. What would I do then? Lizzie would be devastated.
I told her to wait in the outer office, just in case, but I needn’t have worried. Not only was he there, but he was looking fabulous—there was no other word for it.
“So?” Winky did a twirl. “What do you think?”
“You’ve scrubbed up quite nicely. I’ve never seen you looking so—err—”
“Handsome?”
“I was going to say, clean.”
“I called in at Molly’s last night.”
“Don’t tell me she’s yet another girlfriend?”
“No. She runs Molly’s Feline Shampoo and Grooming.”
“Well, I have to say, she’s done an excellent job.” I went over to the cupboard and took out the cat basket.
“Do I have to go in that thing?”
“They won’t let you in otherwise.”
He groaned a bit but climbed in anyway.
“Here’s Winky,” I held up the basket for Lizzie to see.
“I think he’ll win, don’t you, Auntie Jill?”
“I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”
“Of course I’ll win,” Winky chimed in.
“He’s meowing a lot, isn’t he, Auntie Jill?” Lizzie giggled. “It’s like he knows what we’re saying.”
***
I’d assumed the cat show would be a small, local affair with about a dozen cats taking part.
Boy, was I wrong!
“Excuse me,” I said to the woman standing in front of us in the queue. “Are there always so many people at these local shows?”
“It’s not just the local show. The national finals are being held today too, didn’t you know?”
“Err—no. How come they’re being held in Washbridge?”
“They hold them at a different venue every year. It’s Washbridge’s turn.”
Only then did I notice the basket at her feet. Inside it was a fluffy ball of something.
“Is that your cat?”
“Yes, Letitia is a two-time regional champion.”
“Very nice.” I gestured to my basket. “This is Winky.”
She pulled a sour face. “What’s wrong with his eye? Does he have fleas? He looks as though he might.”
“No, he doesn’t. He had a shampoo at Molly’s only yesterday.”
The woman muttered something under her breath, and then turned away.
“What’s up with that stuck up cow?” Winky said.
“Shut up.”
“Really!” The woman said. “There was no call for that.”
“I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to—err—Winky.”
She glared at me for the longest moment, and then turned away again.
When we eventually made it to the front of the queue, a surly man held out his hand for our tickets.
“Wrong queue.”
“Sorry?”
“You’re in the wrong queue. This queue is for the national final competitors only. You need the moggies’ queue. It’s down there.”
“We’ve been queueing for twenty-minutes already. Couldn’t you just turn a blind eye and let us in?”
“Sorry. You’ll have to go down there.”
I was worried that Lizzie might start to get restless, but fortunately there was one of her school friends in the moggies’ queue.
“Oy!” Winky said. “What’s with the two competitions?”
“One is for best of breeds that have won their way to the national finals. The other one is for—err—everyone else.”
“I’m best of breed. I should be in that competition.”
“What are you, anyway? I’ve often wondered.”
“I’m a cat, of course. Jeez, you’re even slower than I thought you were.”
“No, I meant—err—never mind.”
We eventually made it to the front of the moggies’ queue where an officious man looked down his nose at me. “Take your cat through to Hall ‘A’, then you and the little girl will have to go through to the main hall.”
“Can’t we stay with our cat?”
He sighed. “I assume this is your first time at one of these shows?”
I nodded.
“The cats have to be put in cages for the judging. When the judges have finished, you’ll be called through.”
“Why can’t we stay in there while they do the judging?”
He laughed. “You’d be surprised at the lengths some people will go to in order to influence the judges. This system ensures there’s no opportunity for anything untoward.”
We took Winky through to Hall ‘A’ and found the cage with his number on it. Lizzie’s friend and her mother were just a few cages down, so while I transferred Winky from his basket, Lizzie went to see her friend’s cat.
“Hey.” Winky began to struggle in my arms. “I’m not going in that thing.”
“You have to. Those are the rules.”
“Nobody told me I’d have to be behind bars.”
“I didn’t know about it. Stop being so melodramatic. It’s only until the judges have done their rounds.”
“What do I win anyway? It had better be worth my while.”
“I’ve no idea. Who says you’re going to win?”
“Of course I’ll win. Just look at the competition. Have you ever seen an uglier bunch?”
“Hi, I’m Elsie, Florence’s Mum.” Lizzie’s friend’s mother had come over to join me.
“Hi. I’m Jill.”
“Where’s Kathy?”
“She couldn’t make it. She’s—err—feeling a bit under the weather.”
“The hen night?” She laughed.
“How did you know?”
“She mentioned it to me the other day. Wait a minute. You said your name was Jill, didn’t you? Are you her sister?”
“That’s me.”
“Wasn’t it your hen night? How come you managed to make it today?”
“I didn’t really have a choice. I’d promised Lizzie.”
“We’re going through to the main hall to get a drink and a snack. Would you and Lizzie like to join us?”
“Sure, why not?”
“What about me?” Winky shouted after us.
I ignored him.
The muffins must have had small diamonds hidden inside them. It was the only thing that could have explained the ludicrous prices they were charging.
“How long does the judging normally take?” I said.
“When it’s just the local show, it’s usually no more than a half-hour, but because they’re judging the nationals too, I suspect it’ll be much longer. An hour and a half at least, I’d guess.”
“Auntie Jill! Auntie Jill!” Lizzie came running up to me; she looked close to tears.
“What’s wrong?”
“I forgot to put this on Winky.” She had a red collar in her hand. “I bought it especially for him.”
“Oh, well. Never mind.”
“But this is a lucky collar. He won’t win without it.”
“I suppose I could nip back and—”
“They won’t let you in,” Elsie said. “Not until the judging has finished.”
“Maybe they haven’t started yet.” I took the collar from Lizzie. “I’ll go and see. Is it okay for Lizzie to stay here with you?”
“Of course.”
I rushed back to Hall ‘A’ where I was confronted by Mr Jobsworth.
“I just need to put this collar on.”
“I don’t think it’ll fit you.” He chuckled at his own joke.
“Very funny. If I could just go back inside for a couple of minutes?”
“Sorry. No can do.”
“Has the judging actually started?”
“Not yet, but any minute now.”
“Well then. I’ll be in and out in no time.”
“Sorry. No entry until the judging has finished.”
I was never going to talk my way past him, so I found a quiet spot, and made myself invisible. Then, as I slipped unseen by Mr Jobsworth, I accidentally kicked him on the shins.
Whoops.
Once out of sight of the entrance, I reversed the ‘invisible’ spell. I wasn’t looking forward to seeing Winky. He’d no doubt be livid because we’d left him alone in ‘prison’.
Boy, was I wrong.
“Winky? What’s going on?”
“Hey guys, this is my two-legged.” He stopped playing cards just long enough to introduce me to his fellow gamblers, but none of them seemed very interested in me.
“How did you all get out of your cages?”
“Those things?” He scoffed. “A two-week old kitten could get out of those.”
“What about the judges? If they see you—”
“Chillax. Benny’s keeping a lookout for them. What are you doing in here, anyway?”
“Lizzie wanted you to wear this lucky collar.”
“Nice colour.” He slipped it on. “You’d better make yourself scarce. We don’t want the judges to think you’re trying to bribe them.”
“Okay. Good luck.”
“I won’t need it, but thanks.”
I spotted a door through to Hall ‘B’, where the cats in the national competition were waiting to be judged, and I decided to take a quick look. The cats in there were much too busy preening and posing to start a card game.
I’d thought I was alone in the hall when I heard someone sneeze. And then sneeze again. Two men, wearing white coats, were standing close to the door at the opposite side of the hall.
“Stop sneezing!” the taller of the two said.
“I can’t help it. I told you I was allergic to them.”
Crouching below the cages, I made my way over to where the two men were standing. That’s when I spotted the word printed on the back of their coats: Jugde.
Jugde? Seriously? If they couldn’t even spell the word, how could they be qualified to judge anything?
“That’s it! Over there!” The shorter man pointed.
“Right. The other man picked up one of the cages. “Let’s go.”
And with that, they disappeared out of the door.
I made myself invisible again, so I could get past Mr Jobsworth—giving him a kick on his other shin, on my way past.
“Did you do it, Auntie Jill?” Lizzie said.
“Yes. Winky looks really good in his new collar.”
Five minutes later, an announcement came over the loudspeakers:
“Ladies and gentlemen, we apologise for the delay, but I’m sorry to report that Mr Sigmon has been stolen. If anyone sees him, please report it to one of the officials immediately.”
“Who’s Mr Sigmon?” I said to Elsie.
“He’s the number one Persian in the country. He was the clear favourite to win today.”
“Why would anyone want to steal him?”
“He’s worth a small fortune.”
“What’s happening, Auntie Jill?” Lizzie said. “When will we know if Winky has won?”
“It won’t be long. Elsie, I’m sorry to ask, but could you watch Lizzie again?”
“Of course.”
‘Jugde’? Those men were no more judges than I was, and I was pretty sure I knew what they’d been up to. I cast the ‘listen’ spell and waited. Sure enough, there was one sneeze followed by another. And then another.
I followed the sound to the indoor car park where I saw the men climb into an unmarked white Transit van.
I rushed over and pulled open the door. “I’ll take those.” I snatched the keys out of the ignition.
“What do you think you’re doing?” the driver yelled.
“The next time you try something like this, I suggest you invest in a good dictionary.”
“What are you talking about? Give me back those keys.”
“I don’t think so.” I cast the ‘tie up’ spell, to bind them both hand and foot, then went in search of one of the security guards.
Back in the main hall, I re-joined Elsie and the girls just in time to hear the announcement:
“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m pleased to report that Mr Sigmon has been found safe and well. The judging will now proceed as planned. Another announcement will be made when the judges have finished, and you can return to the hall.”
***
Late afternoon, when we arrived back at Kathy’s, she and Peter were looking slightly less zombie-like.
“Winky won!” Lizzie screamed.
“That’s fantastic, Pumpkin, but do you think you could speak a little quieter. Mummy has a headache.”
“Look, Mummy!” Lizzie held up the certificate and rosette. “Can I put them on my bedroom wall?”
“Of course you can. Daddy will help you, won’t you, Daddy?”
“Now?” Peter was obviously still feeling very fragile.
“Yes, please, Daddy.” Lizzie grabbed his hand.
“Okay, then. Come on.”
“I’m sorry about today, sis,” Kathy said when we were alone.
“It’s okay. It turned out to be more fun than I expected.”
“I can’t believe that ugly cat of yours won.”
“Apparently, they judge the moggies mainly on character. The head judge said Winky had more personality than any cat she’d ever encountered. He got a certificate and rosette too.”
“Are you going to stay for a drink?”
“No, thanks. I’d better get back to see how Jack of the walking dead is doing.”