Лилиан Браун - The Cat Who Tailed A Thief

Since dress was optional, it ranged from jeans to black tie. Polly was wearing her terra-cotta suit, admired by everyone, and Qwilleran was in suit and tie. He and Arch had considered wearing their baseball ties, but their women vetoed it; the Exbridges would not be amused. Amanda Goodwinter was there in her thirty-year-old dinner dress; she considered large parties an abomination but attended for commercial and political reasons. A husky man who looked dapper in a double-breasted suit wore a large lapel button inscribed: HIT ME! I'M THE WEATHER GUY!

Willard Carmichael and his houseguest wore dinner jackets. Danielle was spectacular in a low-cut, high-cut cocktail sheath, leading Arch Riker to mumble, "You'd think a banker could afford to buy his wife something longer."

"At least she had good legs," Qwilleran mumbled in reply, "but she makes Lynette look like a prison matron."

In a navy blue taffeta shirtdress with her grandmother's jewelry, Lynette had dined with the Carmichaels. She reported that Willard had prepared a delicious beef Wellington; Danielle's cousin was adorable; his deep voice gave her goosebumps; even his name was romantic: Carter Lee James. All the women were talking about him, she said.

For several years Qwilleran had been the pick of Pickax, as far as eligible bachelors were rated. One woman had donated fifteen hundred dollars to charity for the privilege of having dinner with him. Although he appreciated compliments on his writing, the adulation centering around his moustache was cloying. He would be glad to share his lionization with the new fair-haired boy in town.

When Lynette pointed him out, Qwilleran recognized him as the man who had been measuring the MacMurchie house; his voice was indeed ingratiatingly pleasant. He had blond hair, medium good looks, and a relaxed way with strangers, young and old, men and women. Compared to his blockbuster cousin, he seemed quite acceptable by Pickax standards. "His hair's bleached," Amanda muttered to Qwilleran.

Polly said, "He has a frank, boyish way of looking at one that's quite disarming."

Lynette said, "All his shirts and sweaters are monogrammed."

"How do you know?" Qwilleran asked.

"He's been playing bridge with us, and I had the three of them to Sunday brunch once. Carter Lee is crazy about my house!"

Danielle was in a giddy mood. Her electronic laugh frequently pierced the even level of background conversation.

Her husband, too, was in high spirits, saying, "That suit looks fabulous on you, Polly!... Hixie baby, we've gotta do lunch... Qwill, my wife wants me to grow a moustache like yours. Don't you think I'm more the Charlie Chaplin type?"

Hixie Rice grabbed Qwilleran's arm. "An anonymous donor has sent a check for fifteen hundred to cover the theft from the money jar? It's drawn on a Chicago bank. Does that mean it's from the Klingenschoen Foundation?" "Don't ask me," he said. "They never tell me anything."

She was circulating with a tape recorder, collecting New Year's resolutions for the monthly newsletter, The Other Village Voice. Qwilleran told her he was going to write a book. Mildred declared she would lose thirty pounds. Polly resolved to find a playmate for Bootsie. Lynette, the confirmed single, amused bystanders by saying, "This is the year I get married." Danielle was determined to buy a kinkajou. Her husband said he was determined to get his wife pregnant.

Then Wetherby Goode surprised the crowd by sitting down at the patio and playing cocktail music, while Danielle surprised them further by singing ballads.

Lynette said, "I didn't know Wetherby could play."

Polly said, "I didn't Danielle could sing."

"She can't," Qwilleran muttered as he returned to the buffet for seconds. Standing in line behind Amanda, he said, "I didn't hear your New Year's resolution."

"They wouldn't print mine," she said grouchily. "I'm campaigning to eliminate those family newsletters that people do on home computers and send out instead of Christmas cards! Whatever happened to those beautiful reproductions of Raphael and Murillo? All we get is a long, sickening report on family reunions, weddings, scholarships, vacations, holes- in-one, and new babies! Who cares if Uncle Charlie was elected president of the bowling club? I never even heard of Uncle Charlie!"

"you're absolutely right!" Qwilleran like to encourage her tirades. "They never tell you that Junior was kicked out of college for cheating, and Daddy lost his job, and Cousin Fred was arrested for driving while impaired."

"Next year," she said, with a conspiratorial punch in his ribs, "you and I will make up a phoney newsletter that's nothing but bad news, and we'll send it to every name in the Pickax phone book!"

"We'll sign it: Ronald Frobnitz and family," he said. Later, Riker asked him, "What were you two talking about? No one's seen her laugh since George Breze ran for mayor and got two votes!"

"Just nonsense," Qwilleran said. "You know Amanda."

Then Willard Carmichael approached him. "Qwill, have you met Danielle's cousin yet?"

"I've been watching for an opportunity, but he's always surrounded."

"Come with me. We'll bust in."

The visiting celebrity stood with his back to the fireplace, answering questions calmly and modestly.

"Excuse me," Willard said loudly. "Carter Lee's visit won't be complete until he shakes hands with the hand that writes the `Qwill Pen' column."

The group moved aside, and the two men gripped hands heartily.

"Welcome to Moose County," Qwilleran said. "I hope you brought your snowshoes."

"Snow or no snow, I'm glad to be here," the visitor said with sincerity. "I've been reading your column. Let me compliment you."

"Thank you. Perhaps we could arrange an interview in the coming week. I understand you have some interesting proposals to make."

"Well, I have to be in Detroit for a few days to finish up some business, and then I'll return, and we'll see what happens." Willard said, "I'll be down there at the same time, and I'll make sure he comes back. We need him."

Mildred overhearing them, said, "Willard, how can you miss the first dinner of the gourmet society? It was all your idea!"

"I feel worse than you do," he said, "but I have to attend a seminar. Technology is advancing at such a breakneck speed that bankers have to go back to school every year."

Danielle said, "He wanted me to go with him, but it would be so boring!"

The conversation was interrupted by an announcement by Wetherby Goode in his radio voice: "Who wants to bring in the New Year? To guarantee good luck in the next twelve months, the first one to enter the building after the stroke of twelve has to be a male - cat, dog, or human."

"Bosh!" a woman's voice shouted.

"It's an old custom, Amanda. You know that."

"Well, you brought in the New Year last January, and we had a hurricane, and explosion on Main Street, and a financial disaster!"

"Take a vote!" Hixie yelled above the hubbub of dissension.

"Okay," Wetherby said, "all in favor of a female bringing in the New Year?... "

"Yea!" chorused all the women present.

"Opposed?"

The men thundered an overwhelming negative.

"Why not alternate?" Qwilleran shouted. "Now there's a man with some sense!" said Amanda, starting for the exit. "As a member of the city council, I consider it my duty to bring in the New Year."

There were protests.

"Let her go!" said a man who had opposed her in the last election - and lost. "Maybe she'll catch pneumonia."

The women booed.

"Amanda, take your coat," Wetherby cautioned. "The wind chill is thirty below!"

The commotion subsided as everyone waited for the magic hour. Champagne corks were popping. The big clock over the bar was ticking. Wetherby was counting down the seconds. The hands reached twelve, and the crowd shouted "Happy New Year!"