Lilian Jackson Braun - Cat 14 Who Wasn't There

Before he left the barn to deliver his copy, however, he made a routine check. He never left home without knowing their whereabouts. This time they were not sleeping on the chairs in the lounge area, not huddled on the fireplace cube or the refrigerator, not hiding under a rug or behind the books on the shelves. They were in one of those voids in another time warp into wh cats are able to vanish at will. It happened frequently, and the only way to rout them out was to shout the secret password: Treat!

Then they would materialize from nowhere to claim their handful of crunchy cereal or morsel of cheese. It was the only guaranteed method, and to ensure its efficacy he never used the T word unless he meant to deliver. So Qwilleran yelled "Treat!" and they suddenly appeared in the kitchen.

"I'm going out," he told them as he dispensed their snack.

"Don't answer the phone if it rings." Being on a short deadline, he used the quick route downtown, through the woods that gave the apple barn its countrified seclusion, and he was able to deliver his copy to Junior Goodwinter in time for Wednesday's edition.

"Is this your piece on castles?" the editor asked.

"I've been waiting to read it. Everyone likes castles." "While churning it out," Qwilleran said, "I figured out how to solve the Goodwinter Boulevard problem. Turn it into an avenue of castles and sell tickets to tourists. The owners can reserve seven or eight rooms for their families, while the public tramps through the other ten or fifteen at $5 a head. The revenue from admissions will take care of taxes and maintenance." "I wish you weren't only kidding," Junior said.

"Do you know anything about the new chef at the hotel?

Have you eaten there since they hired him?" "No, but I hear he's pretty good, although anyone would be an improvement." Using Junior's phone, Qwilleran called Polly at the library.

"Are you feeling adventurous? Would you like to have dinner at the hotel?

They have a new chef." "That's what I heard. Is he good? What is his background?" "He's from Fall River, Massachusetts." Facetiously he added, "They say he's a legend in Fall River." It had to be an early dinner, because Polly had scheduled one of her frequent committee meetings at the library, and the members were gathering at seven thirty He often wondered how a small library in a small town could keep so many committees busy with whatever it was they did.

Meanwhile he killed time by listening to a few more of his Scottish tapes. The Siamese listened, too. When their dinner hour was approaching, their empty stomachs stimulated their interest in everything that Qwilleran did. One tape launched him on a new train of thought and aroused certain suspicions. It was a conversation with Lyle Compton toward the end of the tour. Lyle was saying: "Too bad we didn't see any smugglers' caves. I used to read about Dick Turpin, the notorious smuggler and highwayman, but Irma never mentioned smuggling at all. I wonder why. At one time in history it was a national industry. The ragged coastline, you know, with all those hidden coves and sheltering islands, was ideal for bringing in contraband by ship." "What did they smuggle, Lyle?" "Luxury items like rum, wine, tea, tobacco, lace, diamonds, and so on.

From Scottish coastal villages they were transported to major cities in Britain by wagon and stagecoach--disguised as something else, of course. It drove the government crazy, but it must have been an exciting operation. They had a network of tunnels and hiding places, including caves along the shore. A whole string of inns was involved.

" "With a great natural resource like the coast of Scotland, you can't tell me that they're not exploiting it today." "You're right, Qwill! Probably for drug smuggling." Click.

There was no vocal response from Koko during this tape, although his ears twitched whenever he heard Qwilleran's voice. Then it was five thirty and time to pick up Polly at the library. Qwilleran was wearing his new suede sports coat ordered from Scottie's Men's Store before the tour. He had never spent that much money on any item of clothing, but Scottie had assumed his Scots brogue and talked him into x. It was camel beige, and he wore it with brown trousers.

Polly said he looked wonderful. She was wearing a black and yellow kilt purchased in Inverness.

"It's a MacLeod tartan, but it goes with my black blazer," she explained.

"So much for clan loyalty," he said.