Лилиан Браун - The Cat Who Came To Breakfast

"I'll help, if someone will tell me what to do."

"First, you might bring all your belongings from Four Pips," she said. "And now that our cats have gone, yours can have the run of the inn."

"But not until I can supervise them," Qwilleran stipulated.

There was no fire damage at Four Pips, but the acrid smell of smoke and a mustiness from the drenching of the roof had permeated everything, including his clothing. Once more he bundled shirts, pants, and socks into pillow cases and carried them to the Vacation Helpers.

Wordlessly he tossed the bundles on the reception table.

"Oh, no! Not again!" said Shelley.

"How fast can you have it ready?"

"Two hours. Is it smoke damage? I heard about the fire. Too bad about the woman who died. Did you know her? Was she young?" In a high state of excitement induced by the approaching storm, Shelley talked nonstop, asking questions without waiting for answers. "Did you hear the storm warning on the radio? Did you see the ladders out in front? Some of our roomers are shuttering the windows. Mr. Ex wants all hotel employees to leave the island, but some of us are going to ride it out. We'll have plenty of beer and meatloaf sandwiches, and we'll have a ball! They predict gale winds or worse, but this building is good and solid. If there's high water, it'll be bad for the hotel. We're on a higher elevation, so I don't worry, do you? Have you ever gone through a hurricane?"

On the way out, Qwilleran encountered Derek Cuttle-brink, leaving with a duffelbag, and he asked the young man, "Are you one of the rats deserting a sinking ship?"

"Yeah ... well ... I'm laid off—for how long, I don't know—so I might as well go home and see my girl. How d'you like this thunder? It hasn't stopped since yesterday noon. It spooks me!"

"The ancient gods of the island are having a bowling tournament," Qwilleran said, adding in a lower voice, "Did Merrio come up with any more information? Let's walk down to the beach."

They sat on the steps leading down to the abandoned beach, and Derek said, "I don't know if this has anything to do with the Chicken Stink or not. That's what they call the food poisoning behind the chef's back," he explained with a grin. "But here goes: The hotel doesn't buy all its food from the mainland. Some of the islanders bring the chef fresh fish, goat cheese, and rabbit, but no chicken."

"Do they simply walk into the kitchen and peddle their goods?"

"They used to, but now the back door is kept locked, and vendors have to be on the chef's list. But when the hotel first opened, Merrio remembers a man who used to bring fresh herbs to sell. The chef was glad to get them. He's French, you know, and they always make a big thing of fresh herbs. Fresh or dry, I don't see that it makes any difference."

A connection flashed across Qwilleran's mind: Does the chef know Noisette? Are they a couple? Is that why she's here? Is that why she has a suite at a secluded inn? Is the chef paying for it? Was it the chef drinking with her in the Buccaneer Den on Sunday night?

"So how'm I doin'?" Derek asked.

"Mission accomplished. Next assignment: Kamchatka." He handed Derek some folded bills. "Now you'd better get in line for the ferry."

Qwilleran helped Nick carry the hurricane shutters out of the basement, and then he helped carry the porch furniture indoors. By that time his laundry would be finished, and he walked up to Vacation Helpers. Shelley had two neat packages of folded clothing waiting for him, plus a foil-wrapped brick of something that looked all too familiar.

She said, "This is your Thursday meatloaf, just out of the oven. Would you like to take it with you? It may not be as good as before, because it's all-beef. Do you mind? Midge's regular recipe calls for two parts beef and one part rabbit, but she couldn't get any rabbit meat today."

"I can live with that," Qwilleran said agreeably.

He had a hunch, and it proved to be correct. As soon as he returned to" his suite at the inn, he gave the Siamese a taste of rabbitless meatloaf, and they gobbled it, yowling for more.

"Cats!" he said in exasperation. "Who can understand them?"

They were adjusting to their new environment readily. It was the bridal suite. The furniture was new, the chairs luxuriously cushiony, the colors soft. There was none of the overscaled, bargain-priced fabric that decorated the rest of the inn. There were too many knickknacks for Qwilleran's taste, and the pictures on the wall were Victorian Romantic; he removed two of them over the sofa and substituted the gilded leather masks. He had also brought the maroon velvet box from Four Pips.

"How would you guys like to play the numbers?" he asked.

Koko was in good form. The first dominoes he swished off the table spelled gale. Next came one of his favorites: lake, which could be shuffled to spell leak.

Qwilleran said to him, "If the weatherman is correct, there's going to be a leak in the plumbing of Mount Olympus tomorrow."

After that the words were ordinary: idea, blade, gable, hack, deaf (or fade) and deal (or lead). Then five of Koko's favorite dominoes landed on the floor: 3-3, 2-2, 6-6, 2-3, and 4-5. As usual, Qwilleran was able to spell field. There was no particular significance to field until the next draw, which consisted of 2-4, 1-3, 6-3, 6-6, and 0-5. Although the pips were different, they reduced to the same digits, which corresponded to the same letters: field. It had been one of the cat's favorites from the start. A tremor rippled across Qwilleran's upper lip. For the first time it occurred to him that field could be shuffled to spell filed. He hurried from the room and ran downstairs to have a look at the porch. The crawl space underneath was ventilated with panels of wood lattice. He found Nick hanging shutters on the south side of the building. "How do we get under the porch?" he asked. "I'd like to put Koko on a leash and have him look at the underside of the steps."

"There are removable panels at each end. You need a high-powered flashlight—maybe two. I'll go with you."

Qwilleran never traveled with the Siamese without taking their harnesses. Yum Yum abhorred the idea, but Koko always liked to be buckled up.

Downstairs Nick had removed the access panel and had two battery-operated lanterns.

Qwilleran said, "This is a wild shot, but we might find evidence of tampering." First he let Koko wander about the porch, now empty of swings and chairs. The cat sniffed in desultory fashion for a few minutes and then went directly to the third step from the top. In a low voice Qwilleran said, "He knows the trouble spot. Let's crawl underneath."

He went first, with Koko leading. Nick followed with the second lantern. It was a long crawl through damp sand, detritus, and skeletons of small animals. They made slow progress, as Koko was distracted by many items of catly interest. When they reached the steps, Nick flashed his lantern up at the new construction—treated wood, solidly braced and nailed—but the cat was interested only in the sand below. There were sawed-off remnants of lumber and new galvanized nails dropped by the carpenter. There were also fragments of old rusty nails and something else half-buried in the sand. Koko was digging for it—an old hack saw blade. Qwilleran's moustache bristled as he remembered the dominoes: hack and blade and filed.