Lilian Jackson Braun - Cat 14 Who Wasn't There

Obviously he was planning to steal the jewels. Did Irma know about that?" Polly snatched the napkin from her lap and threw it on the table.

"How can you make such malicious assumptions when she's not here to defend herself? It was a heart attack! Melinda said so!" "Melinda could be wrong." "I refuse to listen to this assault on Irma's integrity!" "I'm sorry, Polly. Perhaps Irma was an innocent victim, murdered because she could identify Bruce after he committed his crime.

Finish your drink, and we'll ask for the soup course." "No!" she said bitterly.

"You have your dinner. I'll wait in the lobby." He signaled the waitress.

"Check, please, and cancel our order." They drove back to town in silence, but he could feel the waves of anger emanating from the passenger seat. When they reached the library, Polly stepped out of the car and said a curt thank you.

At the barn, he was met by two alert Siamese with questioning tails, as if they felt the tension in the air. Now Qwilleran felt hungry, as well as uneasy about the scene with Polly and indignant about his suede coat. He threw it on a kitchen chair and searched the refrigerator for the makings of a sandwich. Yum Yum, as if she wanted to comfort him, presented him with an emery board.

"Thank you, sweetheart," he said. As he swallowed his sandwich and gulped his coffee, he admitted to himself that he had been tactless in linking Polly's friend with illegal activity. Yet, there was something about the events in the Highlands that made his moustache bristle, and he was floundering in his search for a clue. He played some more tapes, hoping for enlightenment: "At the inn where we're lodged tonight, the fireplace mantel is draped with a fringed scarf; the lamp shades are fringed; and there are rugs thrown over the sofas--all very cozy. Blankets are used for draw draperies over the windows, which should say something about winters in the Highlands. The mantel shelf is adorned with the usual clock, some pieces of china, and a live but apathetic cat. The cats in the Scottish Highlands are not as nervous as American cats. They walk in slow motion, stretch lazily instead of purposefully, and spend their time resting on wharf pilings, fences, doorsteps, windowsills, rooftops, or fireplace mantels." It surprised Qwilleran that the Siamese failed to respond to this segment of the tape. There was something about the sound of the word "cat" that usually commanded their immediate attention. When they were sleeping, he had only to whisper "cat" and their ears would twitch. The tapes rolled on: "Today I did my neighborly duty on the bus, sitting with Zella in the morning and Grace in the afternoon. When we're on the road, Zella looks out the window and enjoys the scenery. Grace never stops talking about life back home. She's an encyclopedia of Pickax scandal, and what she doesn't know, she invents. That, at least, is her reputation.

It appears that the only Moose County families without skeletons in the closet are the Chisholms and the Utleys, and even the Utleys have a few bones rattling under the stairs." Qwilleran kept glancing at his watch. He half expected Polly to phone and say, "Qwill, I'm afraid I overreacted." He thought she would call about nine o'clock, after the committee meeting, but the telephone was exasperatingly silent.

"After dinner tonight Irma did her usual vanishing act, and Larry, Melinda, and Dwight went into the garden to work on Macbeth. I'd hear Larry's magnificent voice: "Is this a dagger which I see before me?" He'd repeat it several times with different emphasis. Or I'd hear Melinda screaming, "Out, damned spot! Out, I say!" How do these intrepid actors endure the midges that swarm up out of the bushes in millions?" It was a disappointing session for Qwilleran, with no clues on the tapes and no pertinent comments from Koko. Neither cat, he now realized, had been in evidence for some time--not, in fact, since he had returned home. Where were they? Reluctant to overdo the T word, he wandered about the barn, searching all levels, calling their names, hoping to find one or the other. No luck! And where, he asked himself, was his suede coat?

Ten