Lilian Jackson Braun - Cat 14 Who Wasn't There

When Qwilleran found his suede sports coat, he had a wild impulse to phone Polly and relate the incredible circumstances: how he had found it under a kitchen chair... how the suede surface was furred with cat hair... and how the streak of melted butter had completely disappeared. There was not even a trace of it! The left-hand lapel was now more roughly sueded than the right, but the grease spot was gone. Before he could pick up the phone, however, he thought about their disagreement at the restaurant. They'd had spats in the past, which were always resolved when one or the other decided the triumph was not worth the battle. This time he was in no mood to wave the white flag. She should have been more understanding, he thought. She should have known he was blowing off steam after the infuriating chicken episode. She was well acquainted with his reckless surmises when faced with unanswered questions. Furthermore, he had apologized-somewhat--in the restaurant, and he was in no hurry to make further amends. Perhaps there was an element of suppressed guilt lurking under his rationalizations, calling for atonement, and that was why he telephoned the Chisholm sisters the next morning with such a pretense of bonhomie. Grace Utley answered.

"Good morning," he said in his most ingratiating tone.

"This is your erstwhile traveling companion, Jim Qwilleran. I trust you two lovely ladies had a pleasant journey home." "Oh, Mr. Qwilleran! It's so nice of you to call!" she said, with excitement heightening the rasp in her voice.

"We had an enjoyable flight. Mr. Riker was our seatmate, and he's a most interesting man." "He enjoyed your company, too. That's why he asked me to call. He says you have an idea for a book that you want to discuss." "About our teddy bear collection... yes! He was quite excited about the idea. Would you be willing to help us? I know you're a very busy man..." "Not so busy that I'd turn down a stimulating challenge! I'd like to explore the possibilities--perhaps this afternoon." "So soon?" she crowed with delight.

"Then you must come for lunch, dear heart. Zella is a wonderful cook." "I'm sure she is," he replied, "but I have a previous engagement. How about two o'clock?" "Then we'll have tea," she said with finality.

"We brought some shortbread from Edinburgh.

Do you like Scotch shortbread?" "My favorite treat!" If Qwilleran was atoning, he was doing it with panache. To fortify himself for the appointment he had a good lunch at the Old Stone Mill--crab bisque, a Reuben sandwich, pumpkin pie--and before driving to Goodwinter Boulevard he picked up a bunch of mums at the florist shop. Mums were Moose County's all-purpose flower for weddings, funerals, and table centerpieces. On second thought, he bought two bunches, one rust and one yellow. The sisters lived in one of the larger stone mansions on the boulevard, next door to the residence of the late Dr. Halifax Goodwinter. The Chisholms and the Utleys had been among the founders of Moose County. Yet, like many of the old families, they were disappearing as the later generations stayed single or remained childless or moved away after marrying outsiders from such remote areas as Texas and the District of Columbia.

It was said that Grace Utley had two daughters Down Below, who would have nothing to do with her. So the widow and her unmarried sister lived by themselves in the big house. According to Junior Goodwinter, they were among the old-timers who would fight rezoning to their last breath. Upon arriving, Qwilleran had hardly touched finger to doorbell before the door was flung open.

"Welcome to Teddy Bear Castle!" cried Grace in her abrasive voice, while Zella hovered in the background, wringing her hands with excitement. She was wearing her gold teddy bear with ruby eyes. Grace, bereft of everything but what she had on her person at the time of the theft, was reduced to a few gold chains and a frog brooch paved with emeralds. With a courteous bow Qwilleran presented his flowers, rust for Grace and yellow for Zella, who squealed as if she had never before received a floral token.

"So good of you to come!" said Grace.

"Zella, dear, put these in water." Then grandly she waved an arm about the foyer.

"How do you like our little friends, Mr. Qwilleran?" Being familiar with boulevard architecture, he knew what to expect: grand staircase, massive chandelier, carved woodwork, stained glass, oversize furniture.

But he was unprepared for the hundreds of shoe-button eyes that stared at him--charmingly, impishly, crazily, table tops cabinets, chair seats and even the treads of the wide staircase.

"We're collectors," Grace explained with pride.

"So I see.

" Feeling a presence behind him, he turned to find a plush animal somewhat larger than himself.

"That's Woodrow, our watch bear," said Grace.

"How many do you own?" "Zella, dear, how many do we have now?" she shouted toward the kitchen.

"One thousand, eight hundred, and sixty-two," came the small voice.