Лилиан Браун - The Cat Who Sniffed Glue

"He knows you work with animals," Qwilleran explained, by way of excusing Koko's impolite nuzzling.

Wally was flattered, however. "If a cat likes you," he said earnestly, "it means you have a princely character. That's what my mother always says."

Harley Fitch raised his right hand in affirmation. "If Wally's mother says so, it's gospel truth, believe me!"

"Amen," said David.

"Who's buying the bear?" Qwilleran asked the young taxidermist.

"Gary Pratt - for his bar at the Hotel Booze. I have to deliver it tonight when I leave here. Do you know Gary? My mother says he looks more like a bear than the bear does."

"Hear! Hear!" said Harley. Next, Koko discovered that some of the noisy strangers were sitting on the floor, which was his domain by divine right. He stalked them and scolded, "Nyik nyik nyik!"

Meanwhile, Yum Yum had calmed down and was checking out sandals, western boots, and double-tied running shoes, none of which interested her. Then she discovered Eddington Smith's laced oxfords. The bookseller stood shyly apart from the others, and Qwilleran went over to speak to him.

Eddington said, "I've found some Shakespeare comedies for you. An old lady in Squunk Comers had them in her attic. They're in good condition." He spoke softly, smiled blandly.

"I didn't know... the Bard had a following... in Squunk Comers," Qwilleran said absently as he kept an eye on the cats. Yum Yum was gleefully untying the man's shoelaces. Koko was exploring his socks and trouser legs with intent nose, forward whiskers, and a wild gleam in his eye.

"People up here," Eddington explained, "used to collect rare books, fine bindings, and first editions. Rich people, I mean. It was the thing to do."

"When the newspaper start5 publishing they ought to send a reporter to your shop to get an interview."

"I don't think I'd be very good for an interview," said the bookseller. "I bought an ad, though - just a quarter page. I never advertised before, but a nice young lady came in and told me I should." Guiltily he added," 'advertising is... a campaign of subversion against intellectual honesty and moral integrity.' Somebody said that. I think it was Toynbee."

"Your character won't be compromised by a quarter page," Qwilleran assured him.

At that moment Harley Fitch walked up with the cake tray, and Koko transferred his attention to the bank vice president, rubbing his ankles, nipping his jeans, and purring hoarsely.

"Have some cake, Edd," said Harley in his heartiest voice, as if the bookseller were deaf.

"I've had two pieces already. 'Reason should direct and appetite obey.' "

"Who said that, Edd?"

"Cicero."

"Cicero would want you to have another piece of cake. How often do you go to a birthday party?"

Wistfully Eddington said, "I've never been to a birthday party before."

"Not even your own?"

The little man shook his head and smiled his bland all-purpose smile.

"Okay! For your birthday we'll have a party on the stage of the new theater, with a ten-foot sheet cake. You can blowout the candles before an audience of three hundred."

Pleasure fought with disbelief in the bookseller's gray face.

"We'll have it proclaimed Eddington Smith Day in Pickax."

David, hearing the commotion, joined the act. "We'll have a parade with floats and the high-school band, and fireworks in the evening."

Jill Fitch drew Qwilleran aside. "Aren't they crazy?" she said. "But they'll do it! They'll have the parade, the fireworks, and a proclamation from the mayor - or even the governor. That's the way they are." She lowered her voice. "Want to come to a surprise housewarming for Harley and Belle on Saturday night? They've moved into the old Fitch mansion, you know. Bring your own bottle."

"How about a gift?"

"No gifts. God knows they don't need anything. Have you seen Grandpa Fitch's house? It's loaded with stuff. I don't know how Harley can live with all those mounted animals and marble nymphs."

"I've never met Belle," Qwilleran said. "Doesn't she ever come to rehearsals?"

Jill shrugged. "She doesn't feel comfortable with this crowd. I guess we come on a little strong. And now that she's pregnant, Harley says she feels self-conscious."

It was a noisy party, with twenty-four club members crowded into a room designed for one man and two cats. Carol Lanspeak laughed a lot. Larry did impersonations of his more eccentric customers. Susan Exbridge, a fortyish divorcee, invited Qwilleran to a dance at the country club, but he pleaded another engagement; she served on the library board, and he feared Polly would hear about it. Eddington Smith said he'd never had such a good time in his life. Harley Fitch was flattered by Koko's advances and asked if he could take him home.

After the crowd had departed, Qwilleran made another cup of coffee in the machine and finished the cake. Yum Yum curled up on his lap, and Koko disposed of the crumbs on the carpet. Sirens sounded, speeding north on Main Street, and Qwilleran automatically glanced at his watch. It was 1:35 A.M.

The next morning he remembered the sirens when he tuned in the headline news on WPKX: "All dental appointments at the Zoller Clinic are cancelled today due to a fire that broke out sometime after one o'clock this morning. Arson is suspected, and police are investigating. Patients may call to reschedule."

-Scene Four-

Place: Qwilleran's apartment; later, the rehearsal hall

Time: Tuesday evening

Featuring: CHAD LANSPEAK

THE LANSPEAK department store closed at 5:30, and Qwilleran wondered if Chad Lanspeak would appear as promised. If he were as irresponsible as Brodie thought, he would have forgotten about the appointment and gone fishing. At 5:45 there was no sign of the reputed black sheep. Qwilleran peered out the window toward Main Street and saw only the construction workers driving away in their trucks.

Finally at 6:15 a battered pickup turned into the driveway, coughing and shuddering as it came up to the carriage house, where it stopped with an explosive jerk. A young man jumped out and collected an armful of snowshoes from the truck bed. Qwilleran pressed the buzzer that released the door, and Chad Lanspeak struggled up the stairs with his load-gracefully shaped, honey-colored wood frames with a varnished sheen, laced with natural leather thongs in an intricate pattern.

"I brought 'em all," he said. "I didn't know I had so many. Hey, what's that iron thing?" He was staring at the Mackintosh insignia with the curious motto circling the rampant cats: TOUCH NOT THE CATT BOT A GLOVE.

"It came from the gate of a Scottish castle," Qwilleran said. "It's three hundred years old."

"It must be valuable."

"It has sentimental value. My grandparents came from Scotland."

Chad was hardly recognizable as the bored salesclerk at his father's store. He still sported the hirsute flourishes that made him conspicuous in Pickax, but he was as affable as any of the teens Qwilleran had met in that salutary environment. Country-bred youths, he had observed, possessed an easygoing, outgoing manner that bridged generation gaps.

"Line up the snowshoes on the living-room floor," Qwilleran suggested, "so I can compare styles and sizes."

"I've never seen a place like this," said Chad, appraising the suede sofa, square-cut lounge chairs, chromium lamps and glass-topped tables.

"I like contemporary," said Qwilleran, "although it doesn't seem to be popular in Pickax."

"That's an interesting picture. What is it?"

"A print of an 1805 gunboat that sailed the Great Lakes."

"It has sails and cannon and oars! That's funny! A gunboat with oars! Where'd you get it?"

"From an antique shop."

"Is it valuable?"

"An antique is worth only what someone is willing to pay for it."