Lilian Jackson Braun - Cat 17 Who Blew The Whistle

When he was gallivanting around the country in pursuit of his personal pleasures, how did Tish feel about being a live-in Cinderella? How did she react to his all-night absences and travels with his secretary, while Florrie wasted away at The Roundhouse?

How much, if anything, does Tish know about the embezzlement? Was she a collaborator in juggling the books? Was that Floyd's reason for wanting her in his office instead of in college? Did she collaborate willingly, or was Floyd a tyrant who gave orders and insisted on being obeyed?

Does she know where he is? Does she have any guesses where he is?

It was about eleven o'clock when headlights came bobbing through the Black Forest. Koko announced the fact, having seen them first. Qwilleran switched on the exterior lights and went out to investigate. There were two sets of headlights. He stood with his fists on his hips and listened to the owl hooting until the vehicles came into full view.

The first was a pickup truck, and Derek Cuttlebrink unfolded his long frame from the driver's seat. "Brought you a load of wood," he announced flippantly.

Two women from the second vehicle walked forward. "Hi, Qwill," said Fran Brodie. "We're delivering a surprise!"

Elizabeth was with her. "You can sit in it, Mr. Q, and wonderful things will happen! I have it on good authority."

"Not another rocking chair!" he said, trying not to sound ungrateful, yet leaving himself leeway to refuse it.

What Derek was unloading from the truck was an armload of five-foot poles. "Where shall I set 'em up?" he asked, pausing on the threshold.

Fran, who had led the way into the barn, pointed toward the lounge area. "Over there, Derek. There's plenty of space between the fireplace and the sofa." Having been the interior designer for the barn, she retained a proprietary interest in it. Whenever she visited, she went about straightening pictures, moving furniture, and giving unsolicited advice. Her sincere, good-natured aggressiveness usually amused Qwilleran, but he drew the line at five-foot poles.

"What the devil are those things supposed to be?" he demanded in a cranky voice.

"It's a portable pyramid," Elizabeth announced with the air of a generous benefactor. "Wally Toddwhistle designed it; Derek will put it together for you."

"Only takes a jiffy," Derek said. "All you need is a screwdriver. Got a screwdriver?"

"There's a toolkit in the broom closet." Qwilleran threw himself on the sofa and watched with a dour expression as five-foot poles were joined to become ten-foot poles, which fitted together to make a ten-foot square; then four other ten-foot poles were attached to the corners and joined at the apex.

"Voila! A pyramid!" cried Elizabeth.

Derek crawled into the cagelike structure and sat cross-legged. "Wow! I'm getting vibrations! I'm getting ideas! How about selling Elizabeth the barn, Mr. Q, and I'll open a restaurant?"

"How about telling me what this damm fool thing is all about?" Qwilleran retorted.

Fran spoke up. "Larry and Junior ganged up on us and wouldn't let us use it in our stage set. I thought you'd enjoy experimenting with it. Then you could write a column about pyramid power. It has something to do with the electromagnetic field."

"Hmmm," he murmured, mellowing a trifle. Derek, still in the pyramid, said, "Somebody get my guitar!"

Elizabeth ran out to his truck, returning with the instrument, and he sang a ballad titled "The Blizzard of 1912." Everyone said he'd never done it better. Derek said he'd felt inspired. Qwilleran suggested some refreshments.

With their drinks and bowls of Kabibbles, they sat around the big coffee table, facing the pyramid. Fran and Derek were in the usual rehearsal clothes, straight from the ragbag, but Elizabeth was striking in a baggy red jumpsuit tied about the middle with a long sash of many colors. The Siamese sat a safe distance from both guests and pyramid.

"How are the rehearsals progressing?" Qwilleran asked.

"Situation normal," said the director. "Larry is allergic to green makeup... The prop girl has eloped, and we can't find any of the props... The stage manager broke his thumb. And the donkey head hasn't arrived from Down Below."

"Hee-haw! Hee-haw!" Derek put in for dramatic effect.

Yum Yum scooted up the ramp and looked down from the second balcony, but Koko merely wiggled his ears.

"When is the first dress rehearsal?"

"Monday. The tickets are selling very well. We may not have a show, but we'll have an audience."

"How many intermissions?"

"One. We're cutting after Bottom and Titania are bewitched. It sends the audience out smiling and brings them back ready for more." "Hey! What are those ducks up there?" Derek asked, pointing to the top of the fireplace cube.

Qwilleran said, "From left to right: Quack, Whistle, and Squawk. They're hand- carved decoys that Polly brought from Oregon. Actually, left to right, they're a merganser, a pintail, and a lesser scaup."