Lilian Jackson Braun - Cat 17 Who Blew The Whistle

"Oh, you should see the cute little used car I bought, Chief! It's bright red! I bought it with your check. I didn't expect you to send so much. It was fun helping you."

"You performed a valuable service, Celia. And now... Don't waste any of our glorious summer weather. Plan on coming soon. I'll send you the directions."

"Oh, I'm all excited!" she crowed, and he could hear her happy laughter as she hung up.

The apartment he had in mind was a four-room suite in the carriage house behind the former Klingenschoen mansion, now the K Theatre. It was imposing in its own right, being constructed of glistening fieldstone with carriage lanterns at all four corners and four stalls for vehicles. Qwilleran had lived there while his barn was being remodeled, and it was still equipped with his basic bachelor-style furnishings in conservative colors.

After talking to Celia, he tore into action, his first call being to Fran Brodie at the design studio. She had selected the original furnishings and also those in the barn.

"Fran, drop everything - will you? - and do a quick facelift on my old apartment... No, I'm not moving back into it. A woman who was a friend of Euphonia Gage in Florida has been advised by her doctor to move up here for the salubrious climate."

"Well! I never heard anything like that!" Fran exclaimed. "Perhaps we should open a health spa. What kind of person is she?"

"A fun-loving grandmother, who has a cat and drives a red car.... Yes, I agree the place needs some color - and some feminine fripperies, if you'll pardon the political faux pas. The cats' old hang-out should be made over into a guestroom for her teenage grandson, and my Pullman kitchen should be replaced by a full-scale cooking facility, with an oven big enough to roast a turkey. How fast can you.do this? She'll be here in ten days." "Ten days!" Fran yelped into the phone. "You're a dreamer! Free-standing appliances are no problem, and we can get stock cabinets from Lockmaster, but there's the labor for installing countertops, flooring, lighting - "

"Offer the workmen a bonus," Qwilleran said impatiently. "Get them to work around the clock! Send me the bill." He knew Fran liked a challenge; she prided herself on doing the impossible.

Breaking the news to Polly required more finesse, however. He called her at home that evening. "How did everything go today?" he asked pleasantly. "I see they painted the yellow lines on the library parking lot."

"Yes, but that wasn't the main event of the day," she said. "Mr. Tibbitt's seat cushion developed a slow leak and whistled every time he moved. It could be heard on the main floor, and the clerks were in hysterics. It was rather amusing in a bawdy way." Polly trilled a little discreet laughter.

Finding her in a good mood, Qwilleran broached the real subject on his mind. "I know your assistant likes to moonlight on her day off. Would she be willing to act as mentor for a new resident of Pickax?"

"What would it entail?"

"Driving someone around town and pointing out the stores, churches, restaurants, civic buildings, medical center, and so forth. Information on local customs would be appreciated - also city ordinances, like 'No whistling in public.' And she might throw in some current gossip," he added slyly, knowing that Virginia Alstock was the main fuse in the Pickax gossip circuit.

"Who is this person?" Polly asked crisply. Expecting the third degree, Qwilleran roguishly teased her with piecemeal replies. "A friend of Junior's grandmother in Florida."

"Why would anyone in his or her right mind leave the subtropics to live in the Snow Belt? Is this person male or female?"

"Female."

There was a brief pause. "Where is she going to live?"

"In my old apartment."

"Oh, really? I didn't know it was available for rent. How did she find out about it?"

"The subject of housing arose in a telephone conversation, and I offered it to her."

There was another pause. "You must know her quite well."

"As a matter of fact," he said, thinking the game had gone on long enough, "she was instrumental in solving tire mystery surrounding Euphonia's death."

"I see.... How old is she?"

"Polly, I never ask a lady her age. You know that."

There was an audible sniff.

"Approximately."

"Well... old enough to have a teenage grandson... and young enough to like snowball fights."

"What is this woman's name?"

"Celia Robinson, and I'll appreciate it, Polly, if you'll alert Mrs. Alstock. Mrs. Robinson will be here in about ten days."

Qwilleran chuckled to himself after hanging up the receiver. He could imagine the gabby Mrs. Robinson and the gossipy Mrs. Alstock having lunch at Lois's Luncheonette.

For the next few days he made discreet inquiries, wherever he went, about parttime work for a newcomer. One day he met Lisa Compton in the post office. She worked at the Senior Care Facility, and her husband was superintendent of schools; between them they could provide answers for most questions.