Лилиан Браун - The Cat Who Tailed A Thief

Pender complimented him. "Done like a professional sommelier!"

"I worked as a bartender when I was in college," Qwilleran explained. "I'm still available for private parties."

Before the forks could be raised, Larry stood and proposed a toast to Willard Carmichael. "To our best friend and mentor! May he live all the days of his life!"

The entr‚e was a taste sensation, especially the vegetable accompaniment. "I'll never eat mixed peas and carrots again!" said Qwilleran. At his table they began to talk about the best food they have ever eaten - and the worst.

Hixie said, "My worst was at a place between Trawnto Beach and Purple Point. I was driving around the county on ad business and hadn't eaten, so I stopped at a real shack that advertised pasties and clam chowder. It was mid-afternoon. The place was empty. A heavy woman came from the kitchen, and I ordered the chowder. She waddled back through the swinging doors, and I waited. Pretty soon a school bus stopped, and a young boy rushed through the door and threw his books on a table. Right away a voice yelled, `Baxter! Come in here!' He rushed into the kitchen and rushed out again, and I saw him running down the highway. Still no chowder.

Baxter returned with a bag of something which he tossed through the swinging doors before sitting down to do his homework. I began to hear cooking noises, so that was reassuring. In a while, the woman screamed for Baxter again, and he rushed into the kitchen and came out carrying a bowl with a spoon in it. He carried it very carefully with two hands and set it down in front of me. I looked at it and couldn't believe what I saw. It was watery, dirty gray, and appeared to be curdled, and there were lumps in it that looked like erasers from old lead pencils... I rushed from the premises."

Qwilleran said, "Too bad you didn't get the recipe."

"I think it was a quart of water, a package of instant mashed potatoes, and a can of minced clams," she said. "Serves four."

Just as the dessert course was being served, the telephone rang, and Carol went to the kitchen to answer it. She returned immediately with a look of anxiety and whispered to Fran Brodie, who jumped up and left the room.

Qwilleran stroked his moustache. There was something about this pantomime that worried him. Glancing toward the kitchen door, he saw Fran beckoning him. Now it was his turn to excuse himself and leave the table. She said a few words to him before he went to the phone.

In the family room the baked apples with peppercorn sauce were untouched. There was a murmur of concern.

Qwilleran returned and touched Larry's shoulder, and the two of them went to the foyer. Carol joined them for a moment of conference. Then the Lanspeaks together went to Danielle and led her across the foyer to the library.

"What's the trouble, Qwill?" Mildred asked when he sat down again.

"Andy Brodie called. He knew Fran was here with Danielle. It's bad news. Very bad! The Detroit police got in touch with him. You know Willard left yesterday to attend a conference - "

"An air crash?" Mildred asked, clutching her throat.

"No he arrived safely and was registered at a hotel. Apparently he was walking to a restaurant when he was mugged. And shot... "

"Fatally?" Pender asked under his breath.

"Fatally."

"Oh, my God!" Mildred said in a horrified whisper. "They're still trying to break the news to her gently."

At that moment there was a shriek from the library.

Larry returned to the room and faced the diners. "Friends," he said, "you won't feel like eating your dessert."

-6-

The WPKX bulletin about the homicide sent the entire county into shock and rage, and individuals wanted to share their feelings with others. When thwarted by busy signals on the phone, they went out in the snow and cold to gather in public places and bemoan the loss of Willard Carmichael, who had died in such an unthinkable way. Qwilleran, with his usual compulsion to take the public pulse, joined them and listened to their comments:

"Those cities Down Below are jungles! He shouldn'ta went there!"

:We've lost a good man. He would have been an asset to the community. He attended our church."

"What'll happen now? He was married to that young girl. They'd bought the Fitch house."

"I feel sorry for his wife. We shoulda been nicer to her, even though she didn't fit in."

"If she moves back Down Below, she's nuts!"

"The church'll send their Home Visitors to call on her and try to give her some comforting thoughts."

With grim amusement Qwilleran visualized Danielle receiving these well- intentioned visitors with their "comforting thoughts."

With grim amusement Qwilleran visualized Danielle receiving these well- intentioned visitors with their "comforting thoughts." That alone would drive her back Down Below, where her citified wardrobe would be appreciated, and where she could buy a kinkajou. No doubt Willard had provided for her generously.

While downtown he stopped at the design studio, expecting Fran Brodie to be up-to-date on developments. The husky delivery man was there alone. "She flew Down Below with that woman," he said. "I'm mindin' the store till the boss gets back from a call, if that's what's she's doin'. I think she's goofin' off."

Qwilleran went to the department store for more details and found the compassionate Carol Lanspeak still distraught. "Fran took Danielle home last night and stayed with her, and my daughter went over and gave her a sedative. Danielle's a good customer of Fran's and feels comfortable with her, so we thought Fran should be the one to take her to Detroit. We got in touch with

Carter Lee James, and he's meeting them at the airport and taking care of everything. Fran will stay in the airport hotel tonight and come right home tomorrow. We don't want her wandering around in that city!"

"I predict Danielle won't return," said Qwilleran, influenced by wishful thinking.

"Well, maybe not, but if she does, we want to have a quiet little dinner for her, and we want you and Polly to be there. Danielle likes you, Qwill."

He hoped the day would never come. He had always disliked women who were sexually aggressive. Melinda Goodwinter, broke and in need of a rich husband, had been a problem. Now he feared he would have a merry widow on his trail, winking and pouting and remarking about his moustache. Danielle was not one to wear black for very long, if at all.

His next stop was the newspaper office. It was late morning, and the staff was on deadline. Junior Goodwinter, the young managing editor, was writing an editorial in the nature of a tribute to Willard. Roger MacGillivray was punching out a piece on the banking improvements instituted by the victim. Jill Handley was on the phone collecting laudatory quotes to be used in a human interest feature. q Qwilleran found the publisher at his massive executive desk, juggling two phones. "What's the latest?" he asked when Riker had a breathing space.

"I talked to Brodie. He's in touch with the Detroit police, but I'm afraid Willard is just another statistic. Thousands of homicides go unsolved Down Below."

Qwilleran said, "He had wanted Danielle to go with him. If she had been along, no doubt they would have taxied to the restaurant, and this wouldn't have happened - or, at least, the odds would have been better. If she's sensitive enough or smart enough to figure that out, she could feel guilty."

"Well, we'll never know. She won't come back," Riker predicted, shaking his head soberly. On his way out of the executive suite, Qwilleran was hailed by Hixie Rice. He went into the promotion office and sat down.

"What do you know?" she asked.

"No more than you do."

"It was a shocker. Willard was a nice guy - cocky but kind of sweet. He worked with Mildred and me on the organization of the club and the dinner menu. What did you think of it?"