Lilian Jackson Braun - Cat 14 Who Wasn't There

... Yes, son, you could lose an eye if you don't have it taken care of fast. Where'd you get those bloody gashes?" "Uh... in the woods," was his fuzzy-minded reply.

"You must have been attacked by a wildcat! You can get blood poisoning from something like that. We've got to get you to the hospital for a shot, son, or you're dead! Was it a wildcat? ... Or was it a house cat Qwilleran gave it a threatening emphasis. The wounded man looked at him suspiciously. Qwilleran, who had been sniffing the fetid air of the trailer like a connoisseur, suddenly bellowed, "TREAT!" "NOW!" came a piercing shriek from behind a small closed door. He yanked it open. It was a closet-size toilet, and Yum Yum was perched precariously on the rim. She was wet. She had slipped into the rusty bowl. Ripping off his jacket, he wrapped it around her, crooning reassurances in her ear.

"Take her to the car," he said to Nick, "and stay with her. You know what to do. I want to talk to Chuck for a minute." Yum Yum knew Nick, and she was purring as he carried her from the trailer. As an afterthought, he took the gun from his pocket and laid it on the sink.

Casually picking it up, Qwilleran said, "Sit down, son. You look sick.

The poison's getting into your bloodstream. I want to give you some advice before the police get here. They're going to ask a lot of questions, and you'd better be ready with some good answers." The fellow sat down on the cot, looking bewildered.

"Where did you get all these radios and cameras?" Qwilleran began.

"Where did you get that pocketknife? What brought you here from Massachusetts? Do you know someone in Pickax?

Do you have a partner here? Why did you break into my barn and take my cat? Did you think I'd pay a lot of money to get her back? Who told you I had a valuable cat? Was it your partner's idea? What was your name before you changed it to Charles Edward Martin?" Headlights and flashing blue lights were approaching through the woods.

"Here comes the popcorn machine! Better tell the police the whole truth, or you'll be in bad trouble. And tell them the name of your partner, or they'll throw the book at you, and your partner will go scot-free... Here they are! And now, if you don't mind, I'll take my radio and cassettes." On the way back to town, Qwilleran held Yum Yum tightly. Only her nose projected from the enfolding jacket as she looked up with trusting eyes and contemplated his moustache. He said, "That guy's not very sharp.

He has the instincts of a criminal, I think, but not the capabilities." "He's punch-drunk," Nick said, "from booze or drugs or both. I've seen a lot of 'em. What I don't understand--how did he manage to grab Yum Yum? She's always leery of strangers." Qwilleran was not ready to tell the whole story as he perceived it, not even to Nick. He said, "She likes beards. She's a pushover for anything resembling a brush. I think he broke in primarily to abduct one of the cats for ransom. After he had grabbed her and taken her out to the car, he came back for the radio he'd seen on my desk.

That's when Koko sprang on his head from the top of the refrigerator and drew blood." "Mmmmmmmmmm," Yum Yum murmured.

"Yes, sweetheart, we'll soon be home, and you can have a bath." Nick said, "How did you know she was in that john?" "The pervading stink in that place had a distinct overtone of cat--notervous cat! I know it well! And there were cat hairs everywhere. I can imagine her flying around that trailer, shedding hair like a snowstorm and finally seeking refuge in that foul closet.

My poor little sweetheart!" Before the Bambas left the apple barn that night, Lori gave Yum Yum a bath, and Qwilleran supplied warm towels, while Nick nailed something over the broken window in the door.

"I feel guilty about keeping you people out so late," Qwilleran said.

"Do you have a baby-sitter?" "Nick's mother is staying overnight," Lori said.

"Thank God for mothers-inlaw!" "How could you be so sure, Qwill, that Yum Yum's kidnapper was the Boulevard Prowler?" Nick asked.

"Just a hunch." Qwilleran pounded his moustache with his fist. After they had gone, he still had to write a review of the play for the Thursday paper, but the Siamese needed comforting, so he touched a match to the combustibles in the fireplace and made a lap for them.

Both cats climbed aboard, Yum Yum sinking like a lead weight with her chin on his wrist. Even Koko, who was not a lap-sitter, huddled close to his ribcage. Only then could he think objectively. He could visualize the headline in the next day's paper: Goodwinter Heir Alive and in Jail. He tried to recall when he had first suspected the Boulevard Prowler to be Dr.

Hal's son. Absurd though it might seem, it was Yum Yum's cache of emery boards that steered his mind in that direction. Someone had told him-Carol Lanspeak, he thought--that Melinda's brother was named Emory.