Blackbird 02 - Dead Girls Don't Wear Diamonds by Nancy Martin Page B

who slowly wound their way up and down the lines of exhibit tables where every breed of cat known to man lolled in splendor for all to see. It was almost human gridlock.
    I peeked over shoulders to glimpse a slinky Siamese sleeping on a velvet pillow but failed to see what all the fuss was about. In the judging area, a solemn woman prodded the unmentionable parts of a pug-faced Persian, then stretched the animal's body to examine it before tossing it into the air like a pizza and scrutinizing the way the poor cat landed on the table.
    Constantly, people carrying cats brushed past me as amplified voices called various competitors to be judged. I tried not to breathe deeply. I could feel the cat dander making my face blotch.
    One frowning gentleman who clearly took his sartorial theme from Prince Philip or Dame Edna wore a tweed jacket and flowered cap as he stood beside a cage and made tch-tch noises. He shook his head and made a note with a pencil in his program. "Mother," he finally said severely to the lavender-haired woman beside him, "you're absolutely right. That Maine coon has a loathsome nose."
    On the next aisle over, a large black-and-white cat sat like a sultan on a tufted pink cushion, and I noticed his owner had propped a Cat Fancy magazine beside him. Yes, the same cat was pictured on the magazine cover. The cover boy sat motionless, accepting his due from passersby. When he yawned, the people oohed and applauded.
    At last I spotted the man I'd come to see. Considering how much time he'd spent with my grandmother, I could recognize his toupee from any angle.
    "Sidney?"
    Sidney Gutnick turned. He was a short, portly man with a Hapsburg mouth and no eyelashes. A jeweler by profession, he wore two pendant necklaces over a nubby sweater, matching pajamalike trousers and nubuck clogs. His pudgy hands were decorated with antique rings, each with plenty of diamonds. In his arms he cradled a blue-gray cat with the same expression Sidney wore—as if he smelled something putrid. On the floor lay a cat carrier, a leather satchel and an industrial-sized bag of Doritos.
    "Nora Blackbird," Sidney said in a nasal voice that always managed to sound accusatory. "I didn't know you were a cat person."
    "I love cats," I said. "At least, I love looking at them. Unfortunately, I'm allergic."
    He shook his head fiercely. "It's been proven that cat allergies are all psychological. I can recommend someone to help you."
    "That's very kind of you. Who's this?" I indicated the cat in his arms. An enormous blue ribbon in Sidney's hand bespoke a recent victory. Sidney cuddled the cat, and his voice turned childish. "Jean Pierre, say hi to Nora. Say 'I'm Jean Pierre, and I'm the grand champion Chartreux.' "
    Belatedly, I realized what the proper response was and said, "Hi, Jean Pierre."
    "Jean Pierre says hi, Nora." Sidney planted a kiss on the cat's head. The cat blinked and turned his face away from me.
    I noticed Jean Pierre's fur was very woolly and almost iridescent. "I've never seen a cat like that."
    "Exquisite, isn't he? Go ahead, touch him."
    "Oh, I shouldn't."
    "Go on. He doesn't scratch."
    I prayed my allergies wouldn't kick in immediately and gave Jean Pierre a small pat. He didn't deign to notice my attention. "Lovely. And so soft."
    Sidney looked shocked. "It's not soft. His coat is water-resistant."
    "Well, he's very pretty."
    "The judge thought he was beautiful," Sidney corrected.
    I had forgotten that Sidney disagreed with nearly everything anyone said to him. Jean Pierre opened his mouth and—for all his royal appearance—let out a ridiculously high-pitched meow.
    Sidney laughed affectionately. "You see? He likes you! How could you possibly be allergic to such a beautiful boy?"
    I smiled, but I felt a telltale tickle building in my sinuses.
    "Now that we've won the competition," Sidney announced, "we're finished here. Enjoy the show, Nora."
    "You're leaving already?" I held back a sniffle. "I was hoping we could talk for a