Лилиан Браун - The Cat Who Came To Breakfast

He said to Nick, "Do you see what I see?"

"A couple of swipes with that thing would cut through a rusty nail like a piece of cake."

"Don't touch it. It's our evidence," Qwilleran said. "You know, Nick, when my barn was being converted, there were rusty nails in the hundred-year-old timbers, and the carpenter whacked them with a metal file. They broke like breadsticks."

"So now the question is: Who whacked the nails under our steps?"

"Let's get out of here."

They crawled out, dragging a reluctant cat. Nick wanted to finish the shuttering. Qwilleran wanted another look at the domino records he had been keeping. He also wanted to check the post office before it closed.

Upstairs, Yum Yum greeted the returning hero with assorted reactions; he brought with him the scent of untold mysteries. Koko, when divested of his leather trappings, took a half hour to launder his fur thoroughly. Qwilleran checked the records for words and numbers that would trigger a thought process.

Lead, depending on how it was pronounced, could refer to a metal with chemically poisonous properties, or it could be another name for leash. Words with K, L, and J reflected Koko's preference for high-pip dominoes: 5-6, 6-6, and 5-5. In general he favored doubles—like 1-1, 2-2, 3-3, and 4-4—suggesting a sense of order or balance.

Next Qwilleran examined his own shuffling of letters: Field became filed; idle could be lied; lake and leak appeared on the list every day. Why? Because Koko liked 5-6 and 6-6? The letters, Qwilleran now realized, could also spell kale, a kind of cabbage of which he was not fond, or the name of a local family. There were Kales, Beadles, and Lawsons all over the island, someone had said.

"Yow!" said Koko in a tone that made Qwilleran's moustache bristle again.

He glanced at his watch. There was no time to lose. "Be right back," he said to the Siamese, who gazed at him with their so-what? expression.

The postal clerk at General Delivery, who had disappointed him so many times, was pleased to hand him two pieces of mail. The postcard he read immediately. It was written in Polly's usual telegraphic style:

Wonderful country. Good birding. Sarah is fun! She's helped me make a very important decision. Details later. Arrive airport 7:35 Friday. Love, Polly

Qwilleran's suspicions were confirmed. So be it! He huffed into his moustache with resignation. It would make some changes in his life. It would never be the same without Polly.

The other piece of mail was a letter in a Pear Island Hotel envelope, with "D.S." inked above the return address. He put it in his pocket. At the moment, and under the circumstances, what did he care about Noisette's last name?

CHAPTER 17

Qwilleran was somewhat subdued as he helped shutter the windows of the inn. Nick said, "They darken the rooms completely, so we'll leave one window uncovered in each room—until the last minute. After that, we live with artificial light, like prison inmates— unless there's a power failure. That means no lights, no water, no refrigeration. We're filling the bathtub with water—and also some five-gallon jugs for drinking. Lori has a campstove that's all right for heating canned food and boiling coffee, but that's about all. The radios operate on batteries, and we have plenty of oil lamps and flashlights, but it won't be fun. If you don't want to stay, Qwill, I'll understand. I'll take you back to the mainland while the lake's still calm."

"I'll stay," Qwilleran said.

"Okay, but don't say I didn't warn you. If you want to phone anyone on the mainland, tell them we're on high ground, and the building is solid, constructed with huge timbers and thick planks. No shortcuts or substitutions or imitations."

Qwilleran took the suggestion and phoned the newspaper office, leaving a message with the secretary. It was a relief to find that Riker was out of the building. The editor would have tried to harangue him into changing his mind. Whatever Qwilleran proposed to do, his old friend insisted that it was too reckless, too impractical, too frivolous, or too expensive.

Now he was suffering from lack of sleep and the exertion of ladder climbing, and Polly's postcard had induced a state of numb indifference. He flopped on his bed, narrowly missing two dormant lumps of fur, and slept until he was disturbed by two active cats, who were themselves disturbed by noises in the corridor. There were voices, and sounds of luggage handling, and the opening and closing of doors. Someone was moving in! In the groggy state of first awakening, he wondered why anyone would move into the Domino Inn at a time like this, when everyone else was moving out.

He roused himself, combed his halt; washed his face, and went downstairs, where he was met by a wide-eyed Lori. "You'll never guess!" she said. "A new guest just registered! She has beautiful luggage, and she was brought here in a splendid carriage! She says she knows you!"

"What's her name?" he asked warily.

"Elizabeth Cage. I wanted to ask why she'd check into a place with shuttered windows, but then ..." Lori looked at Qwilleran slyly. "I thought it might be something private between you two."

"Where is she now?"

"Upstairs, unpacking. She's in the Lakeview Suite across from you."

"This comes as a total surprise. Do we have any meatloaf sandwiches left over from the fire?"

"That's about alt—including the whole meatloaf you gave us. I'm not prepared to serve dinner guests, you know."

"She doesn't eat much, so don't fuss and don't apologize. I'll go upstairs," he said irritably, "to see what this is all about."

The young woman who opened the door was dressed in a caftan and seemed very glad to see him.

"Liz! What the devil are you doing here?" he demanded.

"My family left this noon, taking both boats, and I told Mother I didn't wish to go. I told her I'm moving to Pickax City."

"You're a very impulsive young woman! You don't know anything about Pickax." He was thinking, Arch is right; I should mind my own business.

"Will you come in? I'd offer you tea, but I suppose there's no room service today."

"Not today, and not ever! And if the storm hits hard, there may be no lights, no water, and no ferries to the mainland. The only boat left in the downtown marina belongs to Domino Inn, and the storm could reduce it to splinters. Have all the boats left the Grand Island Club?"

"Yes, but ... if I may use the telephone, I think I can arrange something."

"Go down and tell Mrs. Bamba what you have in mind. She'll let you use the office phone ... And now, if you'll excuse me, I have an errand to do."

He wanted to walk away from the situation and consider the complications involved if Liz should move to Pickax. Could she handle her own living arrangements, face responsibility, make wise decisions? Or would she require and expect a full-time guardian? That was a role he was not prepared to play. He had come to the island to help Nick, and he had stepped into ... the peat bog, so to speak.

Qwilleran walked to Harriet's Family Cafe, not expecting it to be open but hoping to follow up their previous conversation. Two men—who proved to be her cousins from the village—were shuttering the windows, while she supervised with tough authority. When she saw Qwilleran, she walked toward him with a solemn step and an anguished face.