Lilian Jackson Braun - Cat 14 Who Wasn't There

"I love peacock feathers! What is the stone?" "A cairngorm from the Cairngorm mountains in Scotland. This is one of the designs being made in the Charles Rennie Mackintosh style." "It will be perfect on my batwing cape. Thank you so much, dear." "Are you going to watch the movie?" he asked. The screen was being lowered at the front of the cabin.

"I'd rather take a nap," she said.

"I'm going to look at this magazine, if my reading light won't disturb you." Window shades were drawn to shut out the brilliant sunlight, while passengers either put on their earphones to watch the film, or went to sleep, or both. He held the magazine open to a feature on Tlingit art, but he was thinking rather than reading. If he could discover the bus driver's identity, he would turn the information over to the Pickax police chief and let him follow through. Reviewing the Scottish tour in his mind, Qwilleran searched for clues in the behavior of Irma as well as Bruce. The tapes he had recorded might reveal forgotten details. Their content was intended as material for "Straight from the Qwill Pen," but it could serve another purpose now... His magazine dropped to his lap, and he fell asleep until the cabin was again flooded with light and another meal was served. By the time the plane landed in Chicago, and by the time they claimed their baggage and went through Customs and Immigration, it was too late to continue to Moose County. They stayed overnight at an airport inn and caught the shuttle flight in the morning. At the Moose County Airport Qwilleran's white four-door was waiting in the long-term parking structure, a new building made possible by a grant from the K Foundation. Polly said, "I remember when the terminal was a shack without chairs or indoor plumbing." "I remember when we had to park our cars in a cow pasture and be very careful," Qwilleran said, "and that was only five years ago." "I can hardly wait to see Bootsie," she said on the way to Pickax.

"I'm looking forward to seeing my two rascals also." When they arrived at Polly's carriage-house apartment, she ran up the stairs while Qwilleran followed with her luggage.

"Bootsie!" she cried.

"How's my little boy? Did you miss me?" The husky Siamese approached with curiosity, appraised her coolly, then turned abruptly and walked away, leaving his adoring human crushed. Qwilleran said, "That's your punishment for abandoning him. After he thinks you've suffered enough, he'll smother you with affection. I expect the same treatment when I get home." After two weeks of picturesque inns and impressive castles, he had forgotten that the converted apple barn was such a wondrous bit of architecture. The octagonal structure had a rough stone foundation that looked like thirteenth-century Scotland, and the weathered shingle siding was crowned by a slate roof. There were no furry creatures spying on him from the windows, however. They were in the kitchen, sitting contentedly on top of the refrigerator, watching Mildred Hanstable as she slid a casserole into the oven.

They looked down on Qwilleran with condescension.

"Welcome home!" she greeted him.

"How was the trip?" "No one ever said traveling is easy." "How about a cup of coffee?" "As soon as I dump this luggage.

I've been living out of it for two weeks." He carried his bags up the ramp to the balcony, and when he returned he had a small white box in his pocket, with CRM on the cover. The Siamese were still sitting sphinxlike on the refrigerator.

"Did they ever find Irma?" he asked as he slid onto a seat at the snack bar. Mildred poured two mugs of coffee.

"Yes, she finally arrived, and they buried her yesterday, although there was some further unpleasantness. The Dingleberry brothers told Roger--off the record, of course--that the Hasselriches disagreed violently about burial versus cremation." "Did the obit run?" "Yes. On the front page. I left it on the coffee table. It's a lovely write-up... Well, apart from the tragedy, Qwill, how was your adventure?" "I'll know better after I've spent a night in my own bed and recovered from tour trauma." "Did you buy yourself a kilt?" "No, just a couple of ties in the Mackintosh tartan. Speaking of Mackintosh, here's a memento of Glasgow." He pushed the small white box across the bar.

"Oh, Qwill! Thank you so much!" she exclaimed when she saw the peacock feather pin in silver and enamel.

"What's the name of this stone?" "It's a cairngorm, found only in Scotland, I believe." "It was sweet of you to think of me." "It was generous of you to take care of the Siamese, Mildred." "Not a bit! It was a thrill to live in this barn, and the cats were enjoyable company. I wouldn't mind having one just like Koko." "There's no such thing as just-like-Koko," he informed her.