Лилиан Браун - The Cat Who Went Underground

“I suppose she fixes everything with a hairpin,” said Doc.

Qwilleran concealed a scowl. He had long ago curbed his tendency to make jocular remarks about hairpins and bras.

“Doc!” said Mildred in her sternest classroom voice. “That is an outmoded sexist slur. Go to the powder room and wash your mouth out with soap.”

“I’ll stop quipping about hairpins,” Doc-retorted, “when you gals stop calling the John the powder room.”

“Objection!” said John Bushland. “Derogatory reference to a minority!”

It was then that Qwilleran made a remark that exploded like a bomb. It was just a casual statement of his summer intentions, but the reaction astonished him.

“Don’t do it!” said the host.

“You’ll be sorry,” his wife warned, and she wasn’t smiling.

“Only mistake I ever made in my life,” said the attorney. “We-tried it last summer, and it broke up our marriage.”

“When we did it, my wife almost had a nervous breakdown,” said the chemist.

Bushy added seriously, “For the first time in my life I felt like killing someonel”

Qwilleran had simply mentioned that he would like to build an addition to the log cabin. Everyone at the party, he now learned, had encountered infuriating or insurmountable obstacles while building an addition or remodeling a kitchen or adding a porch or putting on a new roof.

“What seems to be the problem?” he asked in mild bewilderment.

“All the good contractors are busy with big jobs in the summer,” explained Doc Madley. “Right now they’re building the condos on the shore, a big motel in Mooseville, senior housing in North Kennebeck, a new wing on the Pickax Hospital, and a couple of schools. For a small job like yours you have to hire an underground builder.

“If you can find one,” Urbank added.

“Pardon my ignorance,” Qwilleran said, “but what is an underground builder?”

“You have to dig to find one,” said Compton by way of definition.

“What about Glinko? I thought his service was the bright and beautiful answer to all problems great and small.”

“Glinko can send you someone for an emergency or a day’s work, but he doesn’t handle building projects.”

“Do these underground builders advertise in the phone book?”

“Advertise!” Bushy exclaimed. “They don’t even have telephones. Some of them camp out in tents.”

“Then how do you track them down?”

“Hang around the bars,” someone said.

“Hang around the lumberyard,” someone else said. “If you see a guy buying two-by-fours and nails and plywood and being refused credit, grab him! That’s your man.”

“Don’t give him a nickel in advance,” Compton warned. “Pay him for the hours worked.”

“And hope to God he comes back the next day,” said Urbank. “We spent one whole summer waiting for a man to finish our job, and then we found out he was in jail in some other county.”

“Ours lived in a trailer camp,” said Dottie, “and Doc went out there every morning at six o’clock to haul him out of bed.”

“If you’re interested in bargains,” Doc said, “the underground builder is a good bet. He may never finish the job, but he comes cheap.”

“And you’ll have to watch him every minute, or he’ll put the door where the window should be,” Bushy warned.

“Hmmm,” said Qwilleran, unable to muster any other verbal reaction after the astonishing tirade.

“On the whole,” said Compton, “they know their craft, but they’re damned casual about it. They don’t bother with blueprints. You tell them what you want, draw a picture in the sand with a stick, and wave your hands.”

“Of course, if the worst comes to the worst,” said Doc, “there’s always Mighty Lou.”

Everyone laughed, and the discussion died a merciful death as the hostess invited them to the buffet.

The guests pocketed their sunglasses, went indoors, and served themselves cold chicken, potato salad, and carrot straws. Some found small tables. Others balanced plates on their knees. Compton stood up with his plate on the fireplace mantel.

The attorney, sitting next to Qwilleran, said under his breath, “Have you tried talking to that new girl? I’m brilliant in the courtroom, but I couldn’t get a blasted word out of that woman!”

Mildred said in her classroom voice, “Did anyone see the visitors last night?”

“What time?” Bushy asked.

“About two in the morning.”

“That’s when they usually come around,” Sue Urbank remarked.

“Let me tell you what happened to me,” the photographer said. “I took my boat out last night for some twilight fishing, and I was baiting my hook when I felt something shining over my head. I knew what it was, of course, so I reached for my camera-I never go anywhere without it-but when I looked up again, the thing was gone!”

“What was it?” Qwilleran asked.

“Another UFO,” Bushy replied in a matter-of-fact way.

Qwilleran searched the other faces, but no one seemed surprised.

“Ever get a picture of one?” the photographer was asked.

“Never had any luck. They scoot off so fast.”

“Have any abductions been reported?” Qwilleran inquired with the smirk of a skeptic.

“Not yet,” answered Doc, “but I’m sure Mildred will be the first.”

Calmly she retorted, “Doc, I hope all your patients sue you!”

Sue Urbank said, “It’s a funny thing. I didn’t see a single visitor last summer, but this year they’re out there almost every night.” “We can expect abnormal weather-with all that activity over the lake,” Dottie predicted.

Qwilleran continued to stare at them with disbelief.

Mildred observed his reaction and said, “Shall I phone you, Qwill, some night around two o’clock when they come around?”

“That’s kind of you,” he said, “but I need all the beauty sleep I can get.”

During the small talk Russell Simms was silent, staring at her plate and chewing slowly. Once Qwilleran glanced suddenly in her direction and caught her studying him from the corner of her eye. He preened his moustache.

Urbank said, “Did everyone read their horoscope this morning? Mine said I’d make a wise investment, so I went out and bought a new set of clubs.”

“Mine said I should cooperate with my mate,” said the attorney. .”Unfortunately I don’t have one at the moment. Any volunteers?”

Bushy said, “Today’s Fluxion told me to go out and have a good time. The Rampage told me to stay home and get some work done.”

“I don’t read horoscopes,” Compton announced.

“That’s true,” said his wife. “I have to read them to him while he’s shaving.”

“Lyle, I always knew you were a hypocrite,” said Doc.

“A hypocritical superintendent is more to be trusted than a painless dentist,”

said Compton. “Never trust a dentist who doesn’t hurt.”

“Qwill, what’s your sign?” asked Mildred.

“I don’t think I have a sign,” he said. “When the signs were handed out, I was overlooked.”

Three persons asked his birthdate and decided he was a Gemini on the cusp of Taurus. Mildred said it would be an interesting year for Gemini. “You can expect the unexpected,” she added.

When coffee was served and guests returned to the deck, Compton wandered down to the beach to smoke a cigar. Qwilleran followed him and said, “Doc is a great kidder.”

“He’s good at shooting the breeze,” Compton said, “but if you want your teeth fixed, you might better go to an auto mechanic.”

“How did you react to all that chatter about UFOs and horoscopes?”

“Don’t expect any rational conversation from this beach crowd,” said the superintendent. “They’re all intelligent folks, but they get a little giddy when they come up here. Must be something in the atmosphere.”