Лилиан Браун - The Cat Who Wasn't There

"Last night while I was quilting, I heard an unearthly howl coming from one of the balconies. Koko was in my bathroom, howling in the shower.

It made my blood run cold. I went up and talked to him, and finally he stopped, but it really gave me a scare.

" "What time did it happen?" "Between nine-thirty and ten, when that crazy DJ was on WPKX. I turned off the radio, thinking Koko objected to the program." "I don't blame him," Qwilleran said.

"That guy makes me howl with pain, too." After hanging up the phone, he realized that Koko had howled between two-thirty and three, Scottish time. That cat knew the moment that Irma died! ... He had a sense of death that spanned the ocean! Only eleven of the original sixteen travelers reported for dinner that evening, and they were quieter than usual. The meal started with cock-a-leekie soup served with small meat-filled pastries called bridies, followed by lamb stew with barley and nee ps as well as a dish of tat ties and onions called stovies.

Lyle Compton asked, "Has anyone seen Bruce today?" No one had seen the bus driver. They all agreed he deserved a day off, and they wondered if he even knew about Irma's death. Lisa said, "According to the Bonnie Scots game plan in Irma's briefcase, Bruce is not to smoke on the job or mix with the passengers, and he must be clean and presentable at all times. For this he's getting $1,000, plus meals and lodging and whatever tips we give him. He was paid $100 up front." "We should tip him generously when the tour ends," Larry said.

"He's an excellent driver. He picks up the luggage unobtrusively while we're at breakfast and has the bus packed for departure on time. He's not friendly, but he's courteous in a businesslike way." Everyone agreed. After dinner, Lisa said to Qwilleran, "Polly and I decided that Larry should manage the tour." "Why? You two are completely capable, and you've studied the contents of the briefcase." "That's the problem," she said.

"If a man is in charge, he'll be considered well informed, well organized, and a good leader. Because Irma was a woman, she was called fussy, bossy and a know-it-all." "That's preposterous, Lisa!" "Of course it's preposterous, but that's the way it is in Moose County, and it'll take a couple of generations to change the attitude. I just wanted you to know why Larry will be calling the plays." The next morning, Amanda was absent from the breakfast table, and Riker explained to Qwilleran, "She has a dental problem. She broke her upper denture, and she's too embarrassed to open her mouth.

Until we reach Edinburgh and get it repaired, she'll have to live on a soft diet, like porridge and Scotch." Arch Riker was wrong. At that moment, Amanda was arranging for transportation to Glasgow; she was canceling the rest of her tour. Carol said, "We're like the Ten Little Indians. Who's next?" After breakfasting on a compote of dried apple slices, prunes, and figs, followed by creamed finnan haddie and oatcakes, the group shook hands with the innkeeper and his wife and prepared to board the bus in the courtyard of the inn.

The baggage was loaded in the bin, but Bruce was not there to help the women aboard. Neither could he be found smoking a cigarette on the grounds, nor passing the time with a cup of coffee in the kitchen. At nine o'clock there was still no driver. In fact, they never saw Bruce again.

Five

The events of the last twenty-four hours bewildered the members of the Bonnie Scots Tour as they switched from sadness at the loss of their leader to indignation at the loss of their driver. Obviously Bruce had been there earlier, picking up the luggage in the hall and loading it properly in the waiting bus. The assistant cook said she had given him his breakfast in the kitchen at six o'clock. Some of the passengers sat in the bus waiting hopefully for his return, while others trooped back into the inn for another cup of coffee.

Mrs. Utley, who had been late in rising as usual, reported that she looked out her bedroom window while everyone was at breakfast and saw a car pull into the courtyard. It left again immediately and went downhill in a cloud of dust. No one paid any attention to her.

Eventually the innkeeper called the constable, and Larry gave the constable a rough description of the missing driver. No one knew his last name, and a quick check of Irma's briefcase failed to fill in the blank. The nearest hospital also was called, but no red-haired forty-year-old male had been admitted. Larry addressed the group seriously.

"How long do we sit here, wondering if he'll show? We have a reservation at another inn tonight and a lot of traveling to do in the meantime." "Let's not hang around any longer," Riker advised.

"It's our bus, not his. Let's hit the trail." "That is," said Larry, "if anyone is comfortable with driving on the wrong side of the road." Qwilleran volunteered to drive, if someone else would navigate, and Dwight was elected. Larry offered to read Irma's travel notes en route, and Lyle said he would fill in the historical facts. With this arrangement in effect, the bus pulled away from the inn for Day Seven: another castle, another loch, another stately garden, another pub lunch, another four o'clock tea with shortbread.

Qwilleran was a good driver. Everyone said he was better than Bruce.

"Cheaper, too," he boasted. At lunchtime, Carol said to him privately, "I feel terribly sorry for Melinda. My father was a surgeon, and even after thirty years in the operating room he was absolutely crushed if he lost a patient. So Irma's death was a terrible blow for Melinda, coming right on top of her father's suicide and the rumors about her mother's death. She has no immediate family now. She lost her only brother while she was in med school. She and Emory were only a year apart and grew up like twins.

His birth was a difficult one, and that's what started Mrs.

Goodwinter's decline in!-plete helplessness." Why is she telling me this family history? Qwilleran wondered.

"You know, Qwill, it's none of my business, but I wish you and Melinda had gotten together. You always say you're not good husband material, but the right woman makes a difference, and you don't know what you're missing by not having children. Forgive me for saying so." "No offense," he said, but he suspected that Melinda had coached her.

"All aboard!" came the commanding voice of their leader. The mild-mannered Larry Lanspeak could project like King Lear on the stormy moor. During the afternoon drive through Glencoe, with its wild and rugged mountain scenery, Lyle entertained the passengers with the story of the Glencoe Massacre in the late 1600's.

"King James had fled," he began, "and the Scottish chieftains were forced to pledge allegiance to William of Orange--by a certain date.

There was one chief who missed the deadline: Macdonald of Glencoe. When his oath finally arrived at government headquarters--late--a high official suppressed it and gave orders to exterminate the clan. A Captain Campbell was dispatched to the glen with 128 soldiers, and they lived there for a while on friendly terms with the Macdonalds, presumably accepting the chief's hospitality. Suddenly, one day at dawn, the treacherous attack took place. Campbell's men put more than forty members of the clan to the sword, including women, children, and servants... I never trust a Campbell," Lyle concluded.

"Don't forget, dear," said his wife, "you married one." "That's what I mean. They make great apple pie, but I don't trust 'em." Then he went on.

"The order for the attack was supposedly written on a playing card, and ever since that time, the nine of diamonds has been called the Curse of Scotland." That night they checked into a rustic inn that had been a private hunting and fishing lodge in the days when upper-class sportsmen came up from London for grouse-shooting and fly-casting.