Lilian Jackson Braun - Cat 14 Who Wasn't There

"Qwill, I'm phoning from a gas station. If you can rustle up some Scotch, I'll be right there, with some breaking news." "Come on over," Qwilleran said.

"I've got news, too.

" Within minutes, Riker walked in, his ruddy face unusually flushed, and he was beaming. The drink was waiting for him, and the two men took their glasses to the lounge area.

"What do you think about Mildred Hanstable?" the publisher asked.

"Nice woman." "She doesn't like living alone, and neither do I. We get along very well. What do you think?" "I'd like to see you two get together," Qwilleran said with sincerity.

"It would be good `=5

" Riker tipped off the night desk in his newsroom, then said, "Any idea of the motive, Qwill? Don't tell me she died for love of you, old chum!" "I don't kid myself that it was anything like that. No, she had personal problems. Lady Macbeth was a metaphor for what was happening in her own life, in my opinion." He declined to divulge the rest of the story to the press, even though Riker was his best friend. If he discussed it with anyone, it would be with Brodie. The next morning, the opportunity presented itself. The only person in Moose County who would dare to phone Qwilleran before eight A.M. was the police chief.

He seemed to take sadistic pleasure in rousting his slow-starting friend out of bed.

"Rise and shine!" Brodie shouted into the phone.

"It's daylight in the mines! I'm on my way over to see you." Groaning and spluttering a few comments, Qwilleran pulled on some clothes, ran a wet comb through his hair, and started the coffeemaker. In short order the chief strode into the barn, looking bigger than ever as the importance of his mission added to his stature.

"Weel, laddie," he greeted his reluctant host in familiar Scots style, "the dead is risen and the mighty is fallen!

Did you hear about Dr. Melinda?" "I heard, and I saw. I was on the boulevard when the ambulance arrived. How about some coffee?" "Tell you what, pour half a cup and fill it up with hot water, and I'll be able to drink it without having a stroke... Got some more news, too.

They picked up your bus driver in London, but the loot was smuggled out of Scotland, gone to chop shops on the continent. He admitted the theft but not the murder. Do you still think he drugged her?" "No, I think Melinda was responsible for Irma's death. It was guilt that drove her over the edge." "Hmmm, interesting notion," Brodie mused.

"She left a suicide note in her apartment that didn't make much sense--all about the smell of blood and a damned spot she could never wash out." "Those were her lines in the play. It's a confession of murder." "What did she have against Irma?" "It was an accident, but she lied to cover up, saying Irma died of natural causes. She wanted the body cremated to conceal the evidence.

Then it appears that she destroyed Irma's medical records. No doubt they'd indicate that Irma did not have a heart condition." "Did you figure this out yourself? Or did your smart cat stick his nose in the case?" "Andy, you wouldn't believe what he's been doing!" "I'll believe anything after what Lieutenant Flames told me Down Below." "First, Koko let out a bloodcurdling howl at the exact moment Irma died in Scotland, and he wasn't even there! Then he shredded her obituary--another indication that something was wrong--and kept pointing his paw at Melinda. He threw a fit when he heard her voice on tape and also destroyed photographs of her. There's something else remarkable, too. Let me play you a tape if I can find it." Koko, having heard his name, came ambling out from nowhere and stationed himself between the recorder and the police chief, with an ear cocked in each direction. Fast-forwarding the tape, Qwilleran picked up fragments of his own voice: "another historic inn. I suspect.