Лилиан Браун - The Cat Who Knew A Cardinal

Under the table Compton yelled, "For God's sake, let's get out of here!" The three of them crawled backstage on hands and knees and escaped out the back door. For a moment they stood and looked at each other as they caught their breath.

Mildred was the first to speak. "I move that we go back to Tipsy's for a drink."

"I second the motion," said her boss.

"Too bad there's no TV coverage in Moose County," Qwilleran observed. "The crews would have a field day with this one. It has everything: kids, cats, old folks, even blood!"

Main Street was choked with police cars and emergency vehicles, their red and blue lights flashing, as sheriff's deputies and state police tried to control the mob. Ambulances were standing by, and fire trucks were primed for action. The only prudent way for the judges to reach the restaurant was to circle the block and enter through the kitchen door.

In the relative quiet of Tipsy's bar they collapsed into chairs. They saw no more of Hixie that evening, and as soon as it was deemed safe, they were glad to leave.

Qwilleran pulled Lyle Compton aside. "What else were you going to tell me about VanBrook? You said there was more to the story."

"It hasn't been officially announced," the superintendent said in confidential tones, "and haven't even told the school board yet, but his attorney notified me today that VanBrook left his entire estate to the Pickax school system. I believe we've earned it, to be perfectly frank."

Qwilleran heard the news with skepticism. "What's the catch? Do you have to rename it VanBrook High School?"

"Nothing like that, although we might name the library after him. His book collection is supposed to number ninety thousand volumes."

Later that evening Qwilleran made a call to Susan Exbridge. "What time tomorrow are we unpacking books?"

"How about nine o'clock? It's a big job - and probably a dirty Job. Wear old clothes," she advised.

"Would you object if I brought Koko along? He has a nose like a bloodhound when it comes to sniffing out rare books."

"Darling... do whatever makes you happy."

Qwilleran was exhilarated, the VanBrook revelation having canceled out the Tipsy fiasco. He said to the Siamese, "How would you guys like a little sport? Something new!" He produced a bubble pipe and whipped up a bowl of suds in the kitchen, watched by two bemused cats who were baffled by a bowl of anything that was inedible and unpotable.

"You stay down here," he said as he carried the equipment to the first balcony. They followed him up the ramp.

He dipped the pipe in the suds and put it to his lips, making one mistake. His pipe-smoking days had accustomed him to drawing on a pipe; bubble blowing was different. He spat it out and tried again. This time he produced one beautiful bubble - iridescent in the barn's galaxy of uplights and down lights - until it burst in his face. He tried again, gradually mastering the technique.

"Okay. Go downstairs," he commanded the cats, adding a tap on the rump. "Down! Down!" They wanted to go up! It was past their bedtime. They stayed on the balcony.

To tantalize them he blew a series of bubbles and bubble clusters and bubbles within bubbles, wafting them into space, watching them float lazily in the air currents until they spontaneously disappeared. The Siamese were unimpressed. They watched this absurd specimen of homo sapiens blowing a pipe, waving his arm, and peering over the railing. Bored, they ambled up the ramp to their loft.

"Cats-s-s!" Qwilleran hissed.

-13-

Thursday, September 22, would be one of the most memorable days in Qwilleran's four-year residency in Pickax. It started routinely enough. He fed the cats, thawed a roll for his own breakfast, and harnessed Koko for the trip to Goodwinter Boulevard. He also buckled up Yum Yum for the sake of practice, hoping she might eventually accept the idea. This time, instead of falling over, she stood in the awkward crazy-leg posture that resulted from the buckling process. Koko, on the other hand, strutted on his slender brown legs, dragging his leash, eager for action. For two minutes and seven seconds, according to Qwilleran's watch, Yum Yum remained in her unlovely pose as if cast in stone, with an air of martyrdom, until he removed the harness. Then she walked away with the exasperatingly graceful step of a female Siamese who has succeeded in making her point.

Moments later, Susan Exbridge arrived in her wagon, and Qwilleran placed Koko's carrier on the backseat. As they set out for VanBrook's house he asked, "Have you had a chance to spend any time at Hilary's place?"

"A couple of mornings," she said. "I have to keep my shop open in the afternoon, you know. But I'm getting an overview of his collection, and in the evening I check my art books. It's really fascinating!"

"Have you found anything valuable?"

"Definitely! There's a Japanese screen with horses in color and gold that the horsey set in Lockmaster will swoon over! And there's a magnificent cloisonn‚ vase, two feet high, that I'd love to have myself. Then - hidden away in lacquered cabinets - are small objects like inro and netsuke and fans. It's all very exciting! Hilary had a staggering collection of fans."

"Fans?" Qwilleran echoed, doubting that he'd heard correctly.

"Folding fans, you know, with ivory sticks and hand-painted leaves, most of them signed! To research these I may have to fly to Chicago... Want to come along?" she added playfully.

"How about the stuff on the second floor?"

"Oh, that junk! I threw out a roomful of dead plants, but there were a lot of growing lights that will be salable."

It occurred to Qwilleran that she might have thrown out a $20,000 crop of whatever VanBrook was cultivating in the back room.

"I haven't touched the books," she was saying. "Most of the cartons are sealed, so I brought a craft knife for you to use and a legal pad in case you want to make notes, or lists, or whatever. I don't know how to tell you to sort them. You can decide that when you see what's there."

"I wonder if Hilary catalogued his books. There should be a catalogue."

"If there is, you'll probably find it in his study upstairs." It's really good of you, Qwill, to do this for me."

"Glad to help," he murmured. "Yow!" came a comment from the backseat. Koko entered the spacious high-ceilinged house in grand style, seated regally in his carrier as if in a palanquin. He was conducted around the main floor on a leash to avoid accidental collision with a two-foot cloisonn‚ vase. He was tugging, however, toward the staircase, a fact that Qwilleran considered significant. The cat liked books, no doubt about it. He enjoyed sniffing the spines of fine bindings, probably detecting glue made from animal hides, and occasionally he found cause to knock a pertinent title off the bookshelf. (To discourage this uncivilized practice, Qwilleran had installed a shelf in the cats' apartment, stocked with nickel-and- dime books that Koko could knock about to his heart's content, although it was characteristic of feline perversity that he ignored them.)

"Where shall we start?" Qwilleran asked as the cat pulled him up the stairs.

For answer, Koko tugged toward VanBrook's study with its four walls of bookshelves. There he prowled and sniffed and jumped effortlessly onto shelves eight feet above the floor, while Qwilleran made a superficial search for a catalogue of the 90,000 books. Ninety thousand?

He found it difficult to believe. Unfortunately the desk drawers were locked and the Oriental box had been removed from the desktop, no doubt by the attorney. Either place would be the logical spot for a catalogue.

"No luck," Qwilleran said to his assistant. "Let's go next door and start unpacking." There were several large rooms on the second floor, originally bedrooms but now storerooms for book cartons. He chose to begin with the, room nearest the staircase. Like the others, it contained nothing but casual stacks of corrugated cartons, formerly used for shipping canned soup, chili sauce, whiskey, and other commodities. Now, according to the adhesive labels, they contained Toynbee, Emerson, Goethe, Gide and the like, as well as classifications such as Russian Drama, Restoration Comedy, and Cyprian History. Each sticker carried a number in addition to identification of the contents.