Lilian Jackson Braun - Cat 14 Who Wasn't There

"All we see is sheep!" Flocks of them grazed on the hillsides or crossed the road in front of the bus. Compton snorted and said to Qwilleran, "I could tell you what happened to the people, but Irma wouldn't like it, and my wife would give me hell again." At each rest stop the driver assisted women passengers off the bus in solemn silence, then wandered away for a cigarette while the travelers used the facilities and explored the gift shops. Qwilleran bought a tie in the Mackintosh tartan; Larry bought a staghorn cane that he said he might use in the play; Dwight Somers bought a tin whistle. The family-type seating on the bus and at meals, as suggested by Irma, became a discordant game of musical chairs.

Qwilleran avoided sitting with Melinda. No one wanted to sit with Grace Utley or Glenda MacWhannell. Arch Riker was always getting stuck with Zella Chisholm. Both Dwight and Bushy had a desire to sit with Melinda. Melinda kept trying to sit with Qwilleran. And Amanda often ended up with Big Mac. The bus traveled on single-track roads most of the time, so passengers worried about meeting another vehicle head-on, but Bruce wheeled the bus up and down hills and around endless curves with reckless abandon, causing Glenda MacWhannell to scream at the roller-coaster effect and Zella Chisholm to complain of car sickness.

Hour after hour Irma talked into the microphone, and the monotony of her voice put the riders to sleep, especially after lunch. In the afternoon they would wake up for tea and shortbread at some modest cottage that advertised "Teas" on a modest signboard. Then, at the end of the day, everyone would stumble off the bus, stiff and sore, to check into a quaint inn tucked into a glen or overlooking a loch. In this way Day One, Day Two, and Day Three became a blur. Qwilleran said to Riker, "I can't remember what we saw yesterday or what we had for dinner last night.

If I weren't recording some of this on tape, I'd get home and never know I'd been here." "I'm not even sure where we are," said his roommate. The inns, adapted from old stone stables and ruined abbeys, were cozy and rustic, and since there were no room keys--only bolts inside the bedroom doors--Grace Utley had to entrust her jewel cases to the innkeeper's safe. Amanda complained that there were no ice machines, no telephones or TV in the bedrooms, and no washcloths in the bathrooms. Glenda MacWhannell worried about fire. At the dinner hour, the women reported in skirts and heels, the men in coats and ties, while Mrs. Utley outshone them all with four strands of sapphire beads accented with a chunk of carved white jade, or a necklace of black onyx and gold, clasped at the collarbone with lapis lazuli. Thus arrayed, they dined on fresh salmon or roast lamb with nee ps and tat ties served by the jovial innkeeper and his rosy-cheeked daughters. Come morning, the group would be herded aboard the bus once again, only to wait for the late Grace Utley. There was usually a misty rain at the start of each day, but the afternoon sun made the waters of the lochs and ky les sparkle like acres of diamonds. On one wet morning they visited a damp and chilly castle with a moat and a drawbridge, a massive gate and a stone courtyard, and a Great Hall hung with armor and ancestral portraits. Here a guide recited a catalogue of battles, conquering heroes, scandals, ghosts, and assassinations, after which the visitors were free to explore regal apartments, dungeons, and staircases carved out of solid rock. Windows were small, passages were narrow, and doorways were low.

"The early Scots must have been pygmies," Qwilleran said as he stooped to maneuver his six-feet-two through a low doorway.

"Look out!" someone yelled. Turning to check the danger, Qwilleran straightened up and struck his head on the stone lintel above. The blow knocked him to his knees, and he saw blinding flashes of light and heard distant screams and calls for help. Next he was being seated on a bench, and Melinda was checking his pulse and lifting his eyelids, all the while asking questions: "Do you know your name? What day is it?... Do you know where you are?" At this point, Qwilleran was feeling more anger than pain, and he snapped, "Shakespeare wrote Macbeth. Moose County is north of the equator.

Eli Whitney invented the cotton gin. And if you don't mind, I'd like to go outside and sit in the bus while you people finish your sightseeing and buy your postcards." Dwight Somers volunteered to go with him.

"I've had enough castle for one day," Qwilleran told him.