Lilian Jackson Braun - Cat 14 Who Wasn't There

Hal's daughter is a doctor now? She's following in her father's footsteps." The old man nodded.

"She were the smart one. Boy din't turn out so good." "In what way?" Qwilleran had a sympathetic way of asking prying questions and a sincerity that could draw out confidences.

"He were into scrapes all the time. Police'd call, middle o' the night, and I'd drive the doctor to the jail. It were too bad, his ma bein' sick and all--always sick abed." "What happened to the boy finally?" "Went away. Doctor sent 'im away. Paid 'im money reg'lar if fen he din't come back." "How do you know this?" "It were through a bank in Lockmaster. Drove down there reg'lar, I did. Took care of it for the doctor. Never told nobody." Qwilleran asked, "Wasn't the young man eventually killed in a car accident?" "That he were! Broke the doctor's heart. Di'n't make no difference he were a rotten apple; he were his oney son... Funny thing, though..." "Yes?" Qwilleran said encouragingly.

"After the boy died, the doctor kep' sendin' me to the bank, reg'lar, once a month." "Did he explain?" "Nope." "Didn't you wonder about it?" "Nope.

"Twarn't none o' my business." There was a knock on the door at that moment, and the canary entered.

"Time for Yum Yum to go home, Mr. Hornbuckle. Say goodbye to your visitors." As Qwilleran lifted the cat gently from the lap blanket, she uttered a loud, indignant "Not-not-now!" "Likes me, don't she?" said the old man, showing his unnatural dentures.

"Bringer ag'in. Don't wait too long!" he said with a cackling laugh.

"Mightn't be here!" Downstairs in the lobby, Lisa asked for comments to chart on her clipboard.

"A good time was had by all," Qwilleran reported.

"Yum Yum cuddled and purred, or croodled, as they say in Scotland. Is Polly Duncan here?" "No, she and Bootsie came early. They've gone home." Arriving at the barn, Qwilleran released Yum Yum from the carrier, and she strolled around the main floor like a prima donna, while Koko tagged after her, sniffing with disapproval. He knew she had been to some kind of medical facility. Later, Qwilleran phoned Polly and asked, "How did the macho behemoth perform this afternoon?" "The visit wasn't too successful, I'm afraid. We were assigned to an elderly farm woman who had lost her sight, and she complained that Bootsie didn't feel like a cat. Too sleek and silky, I imagine. She was used to barn cats." "We had an emphysema patient, and I thought Yum Yum might turn into a fur tornado when she saw the oxygen equipment, but she played her role beautifully. She croodled. She's a professional croodler." "Cats know when someone needs comforting," Polly said.

"When Edgar Allan Poe's wife was dying in a poor cottage without heat or blankets, her only sources of warmth were her husband's overcoat and a large tortoise-shell cat." "A touching story, if true, " Qwilleran commented.

"I've read it in several books. Most cats are lovable." "Or loo some as the Scots say. By the way, I promised Mildred we'd tell her all about Scotland. How will it be if we take her to dinner at Linguini's next Sunday? We'll invite Arch Riker, too." Polly thought it would be a nice idea. Actually, the following Sunday was her birthday, but he pretended not to know, and she pretended not to know that he knew. The next morning he walked downtown to buy her a birthday gift, but first he had to hand in his copy at the newspaper.

In the city room he picked up a Monday edition and read his Bonnie Scots cut lines to see if anyone had tampered with his carefully worded prose. Then he read the large ad on page three: TAG SALE Estate of Dr. Halifax Goodwinter At the residence, 180 Goodwinter Boulevard Sale: Saturday, 8 A.M. to 6 P.M. Preview: Friday, 9 A.M.

to 4 P.M.

Furniture, antiques, art, household equipment, books, clothing, jewelry, linens, china, silver, crystal, personal effects. All items tagged. All prices firm. All sales final. No deliveries. Dealers welcome. Curb parking permitted.

Managed by: Foxy Fred's Bid-a-Bit Auctions "Did you see the ad for the Goodwinter sale?" Carol Lanspeak asked him when he went to the Lanspeak Department Store to buy a gift.

"Melinda hasn't said a word to the Historical Society. One would think she'd give the museum first choice--or even donate certain items." "I suppose she has a lot on her mind," Qwilleran said.