Лилиан Браун - The Cat Who Talked Turkey

Contents

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

PROLOGUE

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

RECIPES

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

The Cat Who Talked Turkey

A Jove Book / published by arrangement with the author

All rights reserved.

Copyright © 2004 by Lilian Jackson Braun

This book may not be reproduced in whole or part, by mimeograph or any other means, without permission. Making or distributing electronic copies of this book constitutes copyright infringement and could subject the infringer to criminal and civil liability.

For information address:

The Berkley Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Putnam Inc.,

375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

The Penguin Putnam Inc. World Wide Web site address is

http://www.penguinputnam.com

ISBN: 978-1-1012-1482-4

A JOVE BOOK®

Jove Books first published by The Jove Publishing Group, a member of Penguin Putnam Inc.,

375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

JOVE and the “ J ” design are trademarks belonging to Penguin Putnam Inc.

Electronic edition: February, 2005

Titles by Lilian Jackson Braun

THE CAT WHO COULD READ BACKWARDS

THE CAT WHO ATE DANISH MODERN

THE CAT WHO TURNED ON AND OFF

THE CAT WHO SAW RED

THE CAT WHO PLAYED BRAHMS

THE CAT WHO PLAYED POST OFFICE

THE CAT WHO KNEW SHAKESPEARE

THE CAT WHO SNIFFED GLUE

THE CAT WHO WENT UNDERGROUND

THE CAT WHO TALKED TO GHOSTS

THE CAT WHO LIVED HIGH

THE CAT WHO KNEW A CARDINAL

THE CAT WHO MOVED A MOUNTAIN

THE CAT WHO WASN’T THERE

THE CAT WHO WENT INTO THE CLOSET

THE CAT WHO CAME TO BREAKFAST

THE CAT WHO BLEW THE WHISTLE

THE CAT WHO SAID CHEESE

THE CAT WHO TAILED A THIEF

THE CAT WHO SANG FOR THE BIRDS

THE CAT WHO SAW STARS

THE CAT WHO ROBBED A BANK

THE CAT WHO SMELLED A RAT

THE CAT WHO WENT UP THE CREEK

THE CAT WHO BROUGHT DOWN THE HOUSE

THE CAT WHO TALKED TURKEY

SHORT STORY COLLECTIONS:

THE CAT WHO HAD 14 TALES

SHORT & TALL TALES

THE PRIVATE LIFE OF THE CAT WHO . . .

Dedicated to Earl Bettinger,

The Husband Who . . .

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

To Earl, my other half—for his husbandly love, encouragement, and help in a hundred ways.

To my research assistant, Shirley Bradley—for her expertise and enthusiasm.

To my editor, Natalee Rosenstein—for her faith in The Cat Who . . . from the very beginning.

To my literary agent, Blanche C. Gregory, Inc.—for a lifetime of agreeable partnership.

To the real-life Kokos and Yum Yums—for their fifty years of inspiration.

PROLOGUE

In Moose County, 400 miles north of everywhere, everyone likes Jim Qwilleran. Not only because he’s a rich bachelor who likes to give his money away. Not only because he writes a lively column for the local newspaper. Not only because he dares to be different. (He lives alone, in a barn, with two cats.) True, he cuts a commanding figure: tall, well built, middle-aged, and adorned with a luxuriant moustache that is admired by men and adored by women. But the good folk of Moose County like Qwilleran because he listens!

As a journalist, he is trained to listen, and he never leaves home without a tape recorder in his pocket. Then, too, a sobering crisis in midlife has given him a sympathetic understanding reflected in his brooding gaze and his knack for saying the right thing.

According to his driver’s license, he is James Mackintosh Qwilleran, spelled with a Qw . To his friends he is “Qwill.” To everyone else he is “Mr. Q.”

Since relocating in Moose County, where the early settlers had been Scots, Qwilleran became aware of his Scottish heritage. (His mother had been a Mackintosh.) He wore a kilt on occasion, warmed to the sound of bagpipes, and quoted Robert Burns: “The best-laid schemes o’ mice an’ men / Gang aft agley.” And he would explain, “It means the plans go haywire.”

One particular summer his own plans were ambitious. Besides writing the twice-weekly “Qwill Pen” column for the Moose County Something, giving readings at public libraries of the new book he had just published, and starting to write another book . . . besides all these personal interests, he would help plan the Pickax City Sesquicentennial for the following year, take an interest in the new bookstore being built in Pickax—and more!

Then everything went haywire.

ONE

One of Qwilleran’s “Qwill Pen” columns recently made this statement: “A town without a bookstore is like a chicken with one leg.”

His devoted readers agreed—even those who had never bought a book in their life. And the Klingenschoen Foundation in Chicago, which managed Qwilleran’s inheritance, considered a new bookstore a worthwhile investment.

For fifty years the late Eddington Smith had sold pre-owned books in a picturesque building behind the post office. Two days after his death it burned to the ground, and millions of printed pages were reduced to ashes. This would be the ideal site for a new bookstore. It was the end of an era and the beginning of a bright new adventure for readers. It would be built on the historic site where Eddington’s grandfather had once shod horses and forged rims for wagon wheels. Perhaps that was not the blacksmith’s only means of supporting his family. There had long been rumors. . . .

All that aside, the site of the nineteenth-century smithy was to be the scene of a ceremonial groundbreaking. The good folk of Moose County liked special events: parades, barn raisings, livestock fairs, long funeral processions, and the like. They had never witnessed a formal groundbreaking. There would be a viewing stand for dignitaries, stirring music by the high school band, and a backhoe garlanded with flowers, to do the digging. It was suggested that the mayor should climb into the operator’s seat and strike the first blow. Her Honor, Amanda Goodwinter, screamed, “Are you crazy? You couldn’t get me on that blasted contraption with those silly flowers if you paid me!”

On Saturday vehicles streamed into Pickax from all directions. Newspapers in three counties were sending reporters and photographers. State police were called in to assist sheriff’s deputies and Pickax police in handling the traffic. There had never been such a celebration in the history of Pickax!

Qwilleran was there, and he described it in his personal journal:

Saturday, May 31—Eddington Smith would turn over in his grave! He was such a modest, honorable gentleman, and he would not want his grandmother’s deathbed confession known. But there are no secrets in Moose County, and it seemed to be generally known that Eddington’s grandfather was not only a blacksmith but a weekend pirate. He tied a red bandanna on his head and sailed under the black flag, preying on ships that brought gold coins to the New World for the purchase of the beaver pelts that were so much in demand in Europe. The rumor was that the loot was buried in a certain spot, now covered with asphalt.