Лилиан Браун - The Cat Who Sniffed Glue

"I was their cook for seven years," Mrs. Toddwhistle said with pride. "Practically a member of the family."

"I hear the house is a virtual museum."

She rolled her eyes in disapproval. "Grandpa Fitch was a collector. They have tons of stuff allover the house and it all had to be dusted and vacuumed. They even have a man come in to dust the books."

"Why did you leave their employ?"

"Well!" she said with an emphasis that promised a significant story, "The mister and missus moved to a condominium, and they wanted me to stay and cook for Harley and his bride, but I said no way! Belle was the girl who did the dusting, and I certainly wasn't going to take orders from her! All she liked was pizza! She had eyes set close together. Some men think that's sexy, but I say you can't trust anybody with eyes set close together, Harley only married her to spite his parents. He knew it would embarrass them."

Wally said, "Mother, do you think you should talk about that?"

"Why not? They're all dead. Everybody knows it anyway."

Quickly Qwilleran put in, "Why was Harley antagonistic to his family? He seemed like such an agreeable guy."

"Well, you see, Harley was away for a while, and when he came back he found that David had married his girl! Way back in high school it was always Harley and Jill, David and Fran - football games, proms, sailing and everything, It was quite a shock to everybody when Jill married David."

"How did Mr. and Mrs. Fitch feel about it?"

"It was okay with them! They paid for a big wedding. Jill's folks couldn't have afforded such a blast, although they used to have money. Jill comes from good stock."

"I wonder how Fran reacted to the switch."

"I don't know. She didn't come around any more after that, She's a nice girl, with a lot on the ball, but I guess the missus thought she wasn't good enough for David."

Qwilleran combed his moustache with his fingertips. "I didn't know parents dictated their kids' lives any more. It sounds archaic."

"Money, honey," said Mrs. Toddwhistle, making a "gimme" gesture with her fingers. "Mister and missus got the boys hooked on high living - boats and cars and all - then doled out just enough money so they'd heel and sit up," (One of the dogs trotted over and sat up, expecting a crumb,) "Yes, they gave Harley a big sailboat, but it wasn't in his name. The fancy house that Dayid and Jill live in - it's not theirs, not a stick of it."

"Wally says you don't subscribe to the Chipmunk theory about the murder."

"I sure don't! The police ought to talk to that old boyfriend of Belle's. He was plenty mad when he got jilted."

"The paperhanger?"

She nodded. "He's a quiet kind of fellow, but still watersrun deep... Another doughnut, honey?"

After his third doughnut, Qwilleran thanked them for the refreshments and the interview and left, saying, "That's a beautiful cat you have. I have a couple of Siamese at home."

"Oh, the orange one?" Mrs. Toddwhistle said. "It was killed on the highway, and Wally found it and brought it home. He didn't want to see such a beautiful animal wasted... did you, Wally?"

Later in the afternoon Qwilleran sat at his desk in the studio and tried to organize what he had learned about the art of taxidermy. There was something about salting fresh hides to draw out moisture and tie in the hairs, removing skunk scent with tomato juice or coffee grounds, freezing skins until they could be scraped and tanned. Yet, his mind kept returning to Mrs. Toddwhistle's gossip. It threw some light on the Fitch family and explained Francesca's ruined romance, but it did nothing to further Qwilleran's unofficial investigation. He was hearing conflicting tales from all sides, and he never knew whether his informants were lying or guessing or talking through their hats. Koko, his silent partner in so many previous adventures, seemed to be of no help in pinpointing the truth.

Yum Yum sensed his frustrated mood and sat on the desk with hunched posture and worried eyes. Koko was elsewhere, probably in the living room on the book. shelves.

Qwilleran said to her, "All that cat does is sniff book bindings and hang around waiting for an envelope to lick. I think your friend Koko is hooked! And it's affecting his senses."

"YOW!" came a loud comment from the living room, and Qwilleran went to track it down, Koko was perched on the back of the sofa, tilting the gunboat picture again.

Qwilleran patted his moustache with sudden comprehension, He would visit the decrepit antique shop in Mooseville, where a bogus sea captain had sold him an "original print" that was only a copy!

-Scene Five-

Place: The Captain's Mess, an antique shop in Mooseville

Time: Saturday afternoon

Introducing: CAPTAIN PHLOGG

ON SATURDAY MORNING Qwilleran took the gunboat print off the wall and drove to the resort town of Mooseville to follow up Koko's obvious clue.

The evening before, he had phoned Mrs. Cobb at the museum. "What do you know about The Captain's Mess?" he asked. "What do you know about Captain Phlogg?"

"Oh, dear, I hope you didn't buy anything from that old quack," she said.

Qwilleran mumbled something about wanting to write a column on the shop. "Do you know when it's open? There's no listing in the phone book."

"It's open when he feels like it. Saturday afternoon would be the safest."

"See you Sunday," he said. "I have two friends here who are looking forward to your pot roast."

Driving up to the lakeshore he recalled buying the gunboat print from the fraudulent Captain Phlogg. The living room needed a large picture over the sofa, and the two-by-three-foot print was the best he could find for the money. The captain's asking price was twenty-five dollars, but Qwilleran had talked him down to five, including frame.

The shop occupied an old building that was ready to collapse. Both the fire department and the board of health wanted it condemned, but local history buffs declared it a historic site, and the chamber of commerce considered it a tourist attraction. After all, "the worst antique shop in the state" was a distinction of sorts. Collectors came from miles away to visit the crooked little shop run by a crooked little sea captain. Only a town like Mooseville would take pride in an establishment famous for infamy.

Qwilleran arrived at noon on Saturday, hoping for a chance to talk with Captain Phlogg before customers started dropping in, but it was 1:30 before the proprietor approached the premises with unsteady gait and unlocked the door with shaking hand.

The interior reeked of mildew, stale tobacco, and whiskey. A lightbulb dangling from a cord illuminated : to the collection of dusty, broken, tarnished, water-stained, dirt-encrusted artifacts of marine provenance. Captain the Phlogg himself - with his ancient pipe and stubble of beard and battered naval cap - blended into the mess.

Qwilleran showed him the gunboat. "Do you remember this?"

"Nope. Never see'd it afore."

"You sold it to me last summer."

"Nope, it never come from here." The captain had an all-sales-final, no-money-back policy that caused him to disclaim everything he had ever sold.

Qwilleran said, "You sold it to me for five dollars, and I've just found out it's worth hundreds. I thought you'd like to know." Qwilleran enjoyed fighting falsity with falsity.

The captain took the foul-smelling pipe from his mouth. "Lemme look at it... Give ye ten for it."

"I wouldn't part with it. It's one of two very rare prints, according to art historians. The other is in the Cyrus Fitch collection. Does that name ring a bell?"

"Never heard of it."

"It's in West Middle Hummock. There was a murder there, week before last. A young sailor named Harley Fitch."

"Never heard of 'im."

"His boat was the Fitch Witch."