Лилиан Браун - The Cat Who Knew A Cardinal

"You seem pretty handy with a gun."

"Yeah, I'm a good shot, drunk or sober." He looked up at Koko on the fireplace cube. "Sittin' right here I could get that cat between the eyes." He cocked a finger at Koko, who jumped to the floor with a grunt and went up the vertical 10ft ladder in a blur of fur- straight up to the top catwalk, ending on the railing forty feet above Steve's head. "What's with him?" the trainer asked.

Qwilleran could envision an aerial attack, and he launched an attack of his own. He said calmly, "Were you drunk or sober when you killed VanBrook?"

"What! Are you nuts?"

"Just kidding," Qwilleran said. "The police can't come up with a suspect, and I thought you were here that night."

"Hell, no! I was at a wedding in Lockmaster."

"The party was over at midnight. You can drive up here in fifty minutes. VanBrook was killed at 3 a.m."

"I don't know what the hell you're talkin' about."

"How about another drink?" Qwilleran said amiably, standing up and ambling to the bar area. He made bartending noises with bottles and glasses as he went on talking. "You knew VanBrook was going to be here, didn't you? You found out somehow."

"Me? I never knew the guy!" Now Steve was standing up and facing the bar.

"You also knew there'd be a lot of other people here to provide a cover-up." Qwilleran pulled a yellow slip of paper from his pocket. "Does this look familiar? It came out of your pocket, and it has directions for finding this place."

"You lie! I was never here before yesterday! I didn't know the guy you're talkin' about."

"You don't need a formal introduction when you've got a good motive for murder. And I happen to know your motive. I've also got a dead bird in a coffee can, waiting for the crime lab."

Hearing that, Steve pulled a gun, and Qwilleran ducked behind the bar.

"Don't shoot! I've got three witnesses upstairs!" There was a motionless moment as a befuddled brain wrestled with the options.

Then came a muffled whoosh overhead. The man looked up - too late. The apple tree was dropping on him.

Steve pulled the trigger, but the bullet went wild as he went down under the weighty tapestry.

Groans came from beneath the eight-by- ten-foot textile, and a hunched body squirmed to get free. Qwilleran, rushing to the kitchen, grabbed a long, blunt object from the freezer. He gave it a mighty swing above his head and brought it down on the struggling mass. It stopped struggling.

"Call the police!" he shouted to Eddington on the catwalk. "Call the police! Use the phone in my studio!"

As Qwilleran guarded the silent mound under the tapestry, the bookseller trotted feebly down the ramps to the second balcony and leaned over the railing to ask in a barely audible voice, "What shall I tell them?"

Qwilleran enjoyed excellent police protection in Pickax. If anything were to happen to the Klingenschoen heir, his fortune would go to alternate heirs on the east coast and be lost forever to Moose County. In a matter of three minutes, therefore, two Pickax police cars and the state troopers were on the scene, and Chief Brodie himself was the first to arrive.

Brodie said to Qwilleran, "Funny thing! Just half an hour ago an informant called us and fingered this guy. We didn't expect to have him delivered to us... at least, not so soon."

"Who tipped you off?"

"Anonymous caller. We gave them a code name so they can collect the reward. What was he doing here, anyway?"

"Trying to sell me a horse farm. I might have killed him with my club if one of those apples hadn't cushioned the blow."

"Club? Where is it?"

"I put it in the freezer."

Brodie grunted and gave Qwilleran the same incredulous look he bestowed on fireplaces with white smokestacks.

"Excuse me," said Eddington Smith. "Is it all right if I go now?"

Qwilleran said, "Stick around for a while, Edd, and if Andy doesn't drive you home, I will. What made you think of releasing the tapestry?"

"The cats were pulling the corners up off the tacks, so I helped them a bit," said the bookseller. "Did I do right?"

"I would say you created a successful diversion." Koko was back on top of the fireplace cube, hunched in his hungry pose, gazing down disapprovingly at the strangers in uniform, and probably wondering, Where's the red salmon? Yum Yum was absent from the scene, although the two of them usually presented a united front at mealtime. In fact, it was the female - with her new assertiveness - who had recently assumed the role of bread-winner, ordering dinner with a loud "N-N-NOW!"

As the police scoured the barn for the bullet that went wild, a chill swept over Qwilleran. Where was Yum Yum?

"My other cat's missing!" he yelled. "You guys look around down here! I'll try the balconies!"

-14-

After searching the upper reaches of the barn, calling Yum Yum's name and hearing no answer, Qwilleran finally spotted her on one of the radiating beams just below the roof. The gunshot had frightened her, and she was hiding in one of the angles where all eight beams met, her ears flattened like the wings of an aircraft. No amount of coaxing or endearments would convince her to come forth.

"What can we do?" Qwilleran asked Koko, who was trotting back and forth on the beam between the cat and the man. They had to leave her huddled in her secluded corner.

After a while the bullet was discovered in the typecase, lodged between a mouse and an owl. Only when Qwilleran boiled a frozen lobster tail did the prima donna make an appearance, ambling down the ramp with a relaxed gait as if she had spent a week at a spa.

"Cats!" he muttered. He was watching them devour the lobster when the phone rang and he heard an exultant voice. "Qwill, Robbie's going to be all right! With therapy he'll be able to walk!"

"That's extremely good news, Vicki. Fiona must be greatly relieved. I was unable to reach her at the hospital."

"She's here now, and she wants to talk to you."

"Good! Put her on."

"Mr. Qwilleran," came a faltering voice, "you don't know what I've just been through. I still can't believe the doctors could save him."

"We were all pulling for him, Fiona."

"I don't care if he'll ever... ride in competition any more, but he's promised to go back to school."

"That's a plus," Qwilleran said, adding lightly, "He may switch his interest from horses to Japanese."

"Mr. Qwilleran," she said hesitantly, and it was clear she had not noticed his quip, "I have something terrible to tell you, and I... uh... don't know how to begin."

"Start at the beginning."

"Well, it's something Robbie told me before he went into surgery. The poor boy thought... he thought he was going to die..." She stopped to stifle a few whimpering sobs. "He told me he knew about... Mr. VanBrook's murder..." Her voice trailed off.

"Go on, Fiona. I think I know what you're going to say."

"I can't... I can't..."

"Then let me say it for you. VanBrook had written a will making Robin his heir. Is that right?"

"Yes."

"And when Robin dropped out of school, VanBrook threatened to cut him off entirely."

"How did you know that?"

Qwilleran passed over her question. This part of the scenario he had only deduced, but he had been right. He went on. "Robin had the bright idea of killing VanBrook before he had a chance to rewrite his will."

"No! No! It wasn't Robbie's idea!" she cried. "But they talked about it - him and Steve. They thought they could use the money and buy the farm... O-h-h-h!" she wailed. "They didn't tell me! I could have stopped it!"

"When did you find out?"

"Not till Robbie was... Not till they were wheeling him into the operating room. 'Mommy, am I gonna die?' he kept saying."

"Was Steve the shooter?"

"Yes."

"Did Robin ride along in the van?"