Lilian Jackson Braun - Cat 14 Who Wasn't There

hundreds of pictures on this trip... medical school at Glasgow..." He said, "Okay, Andy. Listen to this: his... the infamous Dr. Cream was a Glaswegian. He was the nineteenth-century psychopath who became a serial killer in England, Canada, and the United States--not as legendary as Jack the Ripper but noted for pink pills..." Koko interrupted with a stern "Yow-will-will" like a yodel, and Qwilleran snapped off the recorder, saying, "Now let me play another tape recorded on the eve of Irma's death, when Melinda came to my room, uninvited." After a few stops and starts, the following dialogue was heard: his... So I'll make you a proposition-since one has to be conventional in Moose County. If you will marry me, you can have your freedom at the end of three years, and our children will resume the name of Goodwinter. We might even have a go-o-od time together." "You're out of your mind." "The second reason is... I'm broke! All I'm inheriting from my dad is obligations and an obsolete mansion." "The K Foundation can help you over the rough spots. They're committed to promoting health care in the community." "I don't want institutional support. I want you!" "To put it bluntly, Melinda, the answer is no!" "Why don't you think about it? Let the idea gel for a while?" "Let me tell you something, and this is final. If I marry anyone, it will be Polly. Now, if you'll excuse me..." Qwilleran pressed the stop button, relieving Koko's anguish. He had accompanied the dialogue with a coloratura obbligato particular to Siamese vocal cords.

"On this same evening," Qwilleran told Brodie, "while Polly and Irma were occupied elsewhere, Melinda was seen going into their the empty room. It's my theory that she tampered with some vitamin capsules that Polly had taken to Scotland, substituting a drug that would stop the heart. I checked with our pharmacist here, and he said it could be done--in several ways.

Melinda didn't realize that Polly had stopped taking the vitamins and had turned them over to Irma, who was catching cold.

Inadvertently, Melinda killed one of her best friends." Brodie grunted a wary acceptance of the story, but Qwilleran had not finished. From a desk drawer he produced a small bottle, uncapped it, and poured a few capsules into the palm of his hand.

"These are similar to the vitamins Polly took to Scotland. They're pink, Andy!

Pink pills!" The chief shook his head.

"The rest of Koko's shenanigans I'm willing to buy, but this... I don't know. It's a little hard to swallow." "Lieutenant Flames would swallow it." "That he would! Hook, line, and sinker!" He stood up and groped in his pockets.

"I'm forgetting what I came here for... Here! This is for you." He handed over a square envelope with Qwilleran's name in a familiar handwriting.

"It was in Melinda's apartment along with the suicide note. I've got to get back to the station." Glancing at the envelope with a mixture of curiosity and dread, Qwilleran dropped it on his desk while he accompanied Brodie to the police car parked at the back door, and after the chief had driven away with a wave of the hand, he walked around the barn three times before going indoors.

He was in no hurry to read Melinda's last missive. No matter what the gist of it--remorse, apology, passionate outburst, or bitter accusation--it would be painful reading. As he walked he pondered Koko's incredible involvement in the case. There was no knowing how much of it was coincidence, how much was serendipity, and how much was his own imagination. The cat's tactics in revealing clues ranged from the significant to the purely farcical. Even Qwilleran had to admit that the pink-pill business was far-fetched. So was Koko's sniffing of the spot on the rug, as if he knew Shakespeare and, more particularly, Macbeth. And then he thought, I owe Irma an apology.

She was a wonderful woman-unapproachable, perhaps, and annoyingly private, but she had her reasons, and she did a tremendous amount of good for the community. She went out on the moor with Bruce every night to try to straighten him out, the way Katie wanted her to do.

It didn't work. Suddenly he remembered he had to drive Polly to work.

But first he would read Melinda's farewell note, his curiosity having overcome his apprehension. He let himself in the front door, and the moment he stepped into the foyer he sensed complications. He experienced that oh-oh feeling that always swept over him when bad news was impending--which enough a cat had thrown up on the white rug, or had broken a tray of glasses, or had stolen the shrimp Newburgh.