Phyllis picked up her nametag at the front desk, basking, as she always did, in the looks of admiration from the event staff.
"That's Phyllis Melburn," one whispered. "She's taken top prize for the last five years!"
"I hear she's the favorite again," another said. "She's unbeatable!"
Phyllis had a lilt in her walk as she entered the auditorium. She was unbeatable. She would take the gold cup again this year. The only other entrant in the Tri-County Region Annual Cat Breeders Show that she considered competition for the trophy was Janet Harrison, who had won the Gilooly County Breeders Cup two months earlier.
And if it became necessary, Phyllis had a plan to deal with Janet Harrison.
***
"She's beautiful," Charlene said, peering into the cage where Mrs. Yolanda, Phyllis's pampered Persian, strutted back and forth. "She's sure to win it for you, Phyl."
"Thanks," Phyllis murmured, not really listening, her eyes darting over the other tables, scanning for potential threats. The Lipmans were entering a Maine Coon again. She snorted. The Lipmans hadn't won anything in years. Near the end of her row was a Russian Blue that looked nice, but she knew from experience that these judges rarely favored Blues.
"Did you see Janet yet?" she asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
"Oh, uh ... she'll never win," Charlene said. "Just a scruffy old bobtail. I wouldn't worry if I were you."
But her face betrayed her. Phyllis analyzed Charlene's expression carefully, taking note of the way her eyes shifted to the right, the way the corners of her wide mouth shrugged slightly.
My God, Phyllis thought. She doesn't believe a word of what she just said. Janet must have something really special this year.
"Mind keeping an eye on the princess for me?" she asked. "I just need to powder my nose."
She left Charlene at the table, and casually wandered in the general direction of the restrooms. At the end of the aisle she took a hard left and made her way to Janet Harrison's table.
"He's exquisite," Phyllis heard someone say as they walked in the opposite direction. "I think this might be Janet's year."
And then she saw the cat — and it took her breath away.
Janet Harrison's prize feline was the most beautiful Japanese bobtail that Phyllis had ever seen. Its head was a perfect triangle, its body lean and muscular. The cat's white coat glistened, and the red markings on its forehead were flawlessly symmetrical.
Beside this glorious specimen, Mrs. Yolanda would look drab and dowdy. This was a showstopper.
Janet's back was turned; she was chatting with the breeder at the next booth. There was a little blonde girl nearby — Janet's daughter, perhaps — but her attention was likewise elsewhere. Phyllis knew she had to act quickly.
Years of practice had helped Phyllis master this sleight-of-hand. With the deft speed and precision of a cabaret illusionist, she withdrew a tiny bottle from her pocket. She glanced around to see if anyone was looking.
It was now or never.
So swiftly that if you sneezed you would miss it, her pudgy hand darted toward the bars of the bobtail's cage. A few drops of clear fluid sloshed out of the bottle and plopped in the center of the cat's water bowl.
An instant later, the bottle had been secreted away and Phyllis was headed back to her table. She took her time, stopping along the way to examine the other entrants.
Pathetic, the whole lot of them!
***
"Charlene!" Phyllis snapped when she returned. "I thought I asked you to keep an eye on Mrs. Yolanda."
"Oh, sorry, Phyl." Charlene turned away from the event staffer she'd been talking to. She wrung her hands. "You went and looked at Janet's bobtail, didn't you?"
"Hmph," Phyllis grunted, trying to appear undisturbed. She picked up her water bottle and took a few swallows, then cleared her throat. "Not a bad-looking animal, but I'm not worried. Actually, it almost looked as though its fur was about to —"
"Phyllis," a sharp voice said. "It wasn't poison, was it?"
Phyllis spun around to face Janet Harrison, who looked mildly alarmed. Janet's hand was clasped around the arm of the little blonde girl Phyllis had seen near her table.
"Phyllis," Janet repeated. "Was it poison? The stuff you put in my cat's water bowl?"
Phyllis's face went white.
"I ... what? I don't know what you're talking about!"
"Listen," Janet said. "If it was poison, you really ought to get medical attention. My daughter says she saw you put something in my cat's bowl ... and, well ... apparently, she snuck back here and poured it into your water bottle."
***
"I know you're upset," Dr. Cashill said, frowning at the chart. "But there's nothing I can do right now."
"Look at me!" Phyllis Melburn shrieked.
Her face was pale and haggard under her department store simulated-hair wig and her crudely painted eyebrows. One of her false eyelashes was coming loose.
"I'm hideous!" Phyllis bellowed. "And you're telling me it won't start growing back again for months, if not years?"
"Well, that chemical was pretty nasty stuff," Dr. Cashill replied. "You're just lucky it didn't make your toenails fall off. Anyway, at least you can wear a wig. The one you've got on now looks very ... ahem ... very natural."
Phyllis started bawling again. Dr. Cashill wished he were playing golf.