Лилиан Браун - The Cat Who Tailed A Thief

"That's what I'm here for," she said.

After hanging up, he paced the floor and tried to sort out his reactions. He was shocked by the suddenness of it all... saddened by the loss of a young, productive, generous, well-loved daughter of Pickax... overcome with sympathy for Polly, who was losing her last link with "family"... and he was angry, too. It was not yet five o'clock, but he called Danielle's number. The line was busy. He continued pacing the floor, and Koko watched with the anxious look that can widen a cat's eyes. Who but Carter Lee could be calling her at this hour? After a few minutes he tried the number again and heard another busy signal. What could they be saying to each other that would take so long? Or did she have the phone off the hook? He went downstairs to start the coffeemaker and then called again.

When her number started tinging, he was in a mood to shout at her: Where's your cousin? Why is he so secretive about his whereabouts? Have you been talking to him? Your line's been busy for an hour! What have you been saying to each other, for God's sake?

When she answered in her ridiculous voice, he said calmly, "Danielle, I've just heard the terrible news. We've lost Lynette. Did Carter Lee call and tell you?"

"Yes, just now. How did you find out?"

"Our local doctor was in touch with the New Orleans hospital."

"Isn't it awful? My cousin's a basket case. I was trying to buck him up."

"I'd like to call him and express my sympathy. I'm sure any kind words will help at a time like this. Did you get his phone number at the inn?"

"He's checked out already! He's coming home. I told him to get here before the airport shuts down. He's flying in today. He said he'd leave as soon as he made all the arrangements."

"I'd be glad to meet the five o'clock shuttle - "

"He wants me to pick him up. There are some things he wants to tell me. Before she died, Lynette told him to carry on the work. He wants to make Pleasant Street kind of a memorial to her."

"Did he say anything about funeral arrangements? There's a beautiful place where four generations of Duncans have been laid to rest, and the last gravesite has been waiting for the last Duncan. Does he know about it?"

" I don't know," she said.

"Important funerals for important people are a Pickax tradition."

"He didn't say anything about that."

"I see. Well, call me if there's anything I can do."

"He told me to break the news to Polly, but I don't know how."

"That's all been taken care of," Qwilleran said hastily and untruthfully. "You don't need to worry about it."

Fortified by this assortment of half-truths and white lies, Qwilleran squared his shoulders, planned his day, drank his coffee, fed the cats, brushed their fur, showered and shaved, and waited for seven o'clock.

At that hour he called the Riker residence, and Mildred said Arch was in the shower.

"Tell him to grab a towel and rush to the phone. This is important!"

Riker came on the line grumbling but curious. Qwilleran said, "Save today's front page for a major newsbreak."

"It'd better be good," Arch said. "I'm standing here dripping."

"It's not good. It's bad. We've just heard from New Orleans. Lynette was rushed to the hospital last night, and she died this morning."

"What! What did you say?... What happened to her?"

"Gastrointestinal complications. Dr. Diane talked to the hospital down there."

"In other words, food poisoning," Riker said cynically. "They don't call it that in the City of Gastronomy. Do you have any details?"

"Only that she phoned Polly a couple of times and said the food was too rich and spicy for her."

"How can we reach Carter Lee?"

"He's flying back. Danielle will meet the five o'clock shuttle."

"I hope WPKX doesn't get wind of it. I'd like to have a clean newsbreak for once."

"Right! Now go back to your shower, Arch. I hope you're not dripping on Mildred's new carpet."

That was easy. Breaking the news to Polly would be tough.

-17-

"Okay if I come over for a few minutes?" Qwilleran asked Polly on the phone. "I have something to discuss."

"Would you like breakfast?" she offered. "The library's closed today. I have time."

"No, thanks. I have a column to finish."

On the way there he considered his approach: how to lead up to the bad news in some non-frightening way.

She met him at the door, looking keenly interested but not anxious.

"Let's sit on the sofa," he said. "I have a confession to make." They went into the living room, and he took her hand fondly. "I've been guilty of trying to save you from worry and loss of sleep, and in doing so, I've not kept you fully informed."

"Is that such a transgression?" she asked lightly.

"Well... maybe. When Lynette called Saturday night, she complained of a stomach upset. It was worse than she thought. Carter Lee had to take her to the hospital."

"Oh dear!" she said in alarm. "How did you find out?"

"He called Danielle and asked her to notify us. It was after one A.M., too late to bother you, so I called Dr. Diane and enlisted her help. She called the hospital and found Lynette in critical condition with gastrointestinal complications. Diane kept calling for updates during the night, and the last time she was given the bad news."

"Oh, Qwill! What are you telling me?" Polly cried with her hands to her cheeks.

"She died about three-thirty this morning."

Polly groaned. "She was only forty! She was healthy! Is there something else they're not telling us?"

"I don't know." He had no intention of mentioning alcohol abuse now; that would come later. "You can lose your mind trying to figure it out," he said gently, hoping to steer her away from his own growing suspicions. "Just remember how happy she was in her last few weeks, and what a kind, helpful person she's been all her life."

"You're right," Polly said, taking a deep breath. "After her shattering disappointment twenty years ago, she never wallowed in self-pity but went on doing things for others and enjoying life, but..." Her voice wavered. "I can't talk about it now, Qwill. I need to be left alone for a while."

There was a call on his answering machine when he returned. He phoned Dr. Diane at her office.

"I had a suspicion about something," she said, "so I came to the office early to pull Lynette's file. She had signed a living will, bequeathing her eyes and body tissues for transplantation. I called the hospital, and they'd not been advised that she was an organ donor. The body had been released to a mortuary as authorized by the next of kin. I called the mortuary. It was too late even for an autopsy. They said the next of kin had signed for cremation!"

Qwilleran said, "That's not what Lynette wanted at all! Even I know that she wanted to be buried at Hilltop in the Duncan plot - with a full funeral, like her brother's."

"Apparently her husband wasn't aware of any of this," Diane said.

He thought, It's not usually discussed on honeymoons. What he said was: "Diane, I've broken the news to Polly, and she asked to be left alone for a while, but this new development is something that I think you should discuss with her."

"I'll be glad to," she said. "I don't know exactly how or when, but I'll work something out. My parents will be devastated when they hear about this."

"A lot of people will be."

"Where is her husband? I wonder."

"Flying home today. I plan to call him this evening. Perhaps I can get his explanation. Meanwhile, there'll be a front-page story in today's paper."

Qwilleran needed sleep. Two or three hours would tide him over, with his answering machine fielding calls. By ten-thirty he was awake and ready to go. He had a column to write, but the topic he had planned seemed inappropriate. It was to be a dissertation on breakfast cereal, pro and con, yesterday and today, hot and cold, with and without raisins. He phoned Polly.