Lilian Jackson Braun - Cat 15 Who Went Into the Closet

After Polly had gone on her way, Qwilleran had another look at the foot powder and read the precaution: "Poisonous if ingested. Keep away from children and pets." At the same time he realized how many of Koko's discoveries were associated with feet: corn plasters, a man's sock, a woman's slipper, shoelaces, toenail clippers, an inner sole, a buttonhook, a shoe-polishing cloth - even a man's spat! Either the cat had a foot fetish or he was trying to communicate. As for his occupation with Confederate currency, canceled checks, and the safe, was that related to the financial skulduggery that was becoming evident?

Qwilleran pounded his moustache as a sensation on his upper lip alerted him. He glanced at his watch. It was not too late to phone Homer Tibbitt. The nonagenarian lived in a retirement complex with his new wife, who was a mere octogenarian, and they were known to observe an early bedtime.

"Homer, this is Qwill," he said in a loud, clear voice. "I haven't seen you in the library lately. Aren't you doing any historical research?"

"Hell's bells!" the historian retorted. "She won't let me out of the house in winter! She hides my overshoes!" His voice was high and cracked, but his delivery was vigorous. "Never marry a younger woman, boy! If I drop a pencil, she thinks I've had a stroke. If I drop a shoe, she thinks I've broken a hip. She's driving me crazy!... What's on your mind?"

"Just this, Homer: You were in the Lockmaster school system for many years, and I wonder if you knew a family by the name of Foote."

"There are quite a few Footes in Lockmaster... or should I say Feete?" Homer added with a chuckle. "None of them left any footprints in the sands of time."

"You're in an arch mood tonight," Qwilleran said with a chuckle of his own. "The Foote I'm curious about is Lena Foote, who should have been a student between 1934 and 1946."

"Lena Foote, you say?" said the former principal. "She must have been a good girl. The only ones I remember are the troublemakers."

Another voice sounded in the background, and Homer turned away to say to his wife, "You don't remember that far back! You can't remember where you left your glasses ten minutes ago!" This was followed by muffled arguing and then, "Do you want to talk to him yourself? Here! Take the phone."

A woman who sounded pleasantly determined came on the line. "This is Rhoda Tibbitt, Mr. Qwilleran. I remember Lena Foote very well. I had her in high school English, and she showed unusual promise. Sad to say, she didn't finish."

"Do you know anything about her parents? Her father was Arnold Foote."

"Yes, indeed! I begged her parents to let her get her diploma, but they were poor farmers and needed the income. She went into domestic service at the age of fifteen, and that's the last I knew. Do you happen to know what happened to her?"

"Only that she died of cancer a few years ago, after a relatively short life as a farmwife, mother, and employed housekeeper," Qwilleran said. "Thank you for the information, Mrs. Tibbitt, and tell that ornery husband of yours that your memory is better than his."

"The testimonial is appreciated," she said, "and let me take this opportunity to wish you a very happy holiday."

Qwilleran was disappointed. He had learned nothing about Nancy's mother, and yet... Koko always had a motive for his actions - almost always. The more peculiar his behavior, the more likely it was to be important. Now there were all those references to feet!

On an impulse he called directory assistance and asked for the number of Arnold Foote in Lockmaster. There was no listing for that name. He pondered awhile. The public library was open until nine o'clock. He phoned and asked a clerk to look up Foote in the Lockmaster directory. There were fourteen listed, she said, with locations in various parts of the county.

"Give me the phone numbers of the first three," he asked.

He first tried calling Foote, Andrew. The woman who answered told him in no uncertain terms, "We don't know anything about that branch of the family. We've never had anything to do with them."

He phoned Foote, Charles. A man said, "Don't know. Long time since I saw Arnold at the farm co-op."

Finally there was Foote, Donald. "I heard he's in a nursing home but don't know for sure. His wife died, coupla years ago."

Before Qwilleran could plan his next move, he received an excited call from Celia Robinson. "I know it's after six o'clock," she said, "but I simply had to try a to reach you!"

"What news?" he asked with intense interest.

"Your check! It's so generous of you! I've always wanted a three-wheel bike. A lot of ladies have them here and ride all over the park. Is that being too extravagant?"

"That's what Christmas presents are all about, and you're deserving," he assured her. "And how about your assignment?"