Lilian Braun - The Cat Who Played Post Office

"Not the cook. The big husky one who rides around on a motorbike. The two of them sat in the car, and it looked like they were arguing. Finally Alex got out his wallet and counted out some bills. I'd like to know what that little deal was all about." Qwilleran's suspicions were piqued, but he offered a matter-of-fact explanation. "The guy does maintenance work.

Alex could have been settling an account." "In cash? Why wouldn't he write a check?" Nick leaned forward in his chair. "You know, I've always thought they' were selling something besides food at the diner. Otherwise, how could that dump stay in business?" Qwilleran chose to taunt Nick. "Alex is a leading citizen, a pillar of the community, a genuine rockbound Goodwinter.

How can you cast aspersions?" "Alex is a genuine four-flusher," said Nick, getting a little heated. "He likes to make people think he's an important influence in Washington, but I say he's down there having a good time." "What does Lori think about him?" "You know women!" Nick said with disdain. "She thinks he's a dreamboat-that's her word for him. I have another word." Nick left, taking fifty more letters for his wife to answer, and Qwilleran visited the hardware store to look at bicycles.

When he returned he said to Mrs. Cobb, "Do you know what they're asking for a ten-speed? More than I paid for my first car!" "But you can afford it, Mr. Q." "That's not the point… You look very nice this afternoon, Mrs. Cobb." "Thank you. I had my hair done." She was wearing: more makeup than usual. "You'll never guess who invited me to dinner tonight! It's that man who objected to the forty-eight star flag." "What? Hackpole?" "Herb Hackpole. He's really very nice. He runs a garage, and he's going to find out why my van drips oil." Qwilleran huffed into his moustache and reserved comment.

While waiting for Junior to arrive, he prepared dinner for the Siamese. Yum Yum had forgiven him for smelling like a hospital and had even jumped onto his lap and touched his moustache with an inquisitive paw. It was one of her endearing gestures. Accustomed to stealing toothbrushes and paintbrushes, she had never been able to understand bristles attached to a face.

Koko, on the other hand, was giving Qwilleran the silent treatment. He had stopped hissing and growling but regarded the man with utter contempt. When the plate of boned chicken was placed on the floor, he refused to eat until Qwilleran had left the room. It was an attitude entirely without precedent.

Junior arrived promptly at six, with the ravenous hunger of a twenty-two-year-old. "Hey, you look good in bandages, Qwill. You ought to wear them all the time." They ate their pork chops at the massive kitchen table. "According to Mrs. Cobb," Qwilleran pointed out, "this is probably a sixteenth-century table from a Spanish monastery." "She's a swell cook," Junior said. "You're lucky." "She made a fresh peach pie for our dessert… Have another roll, Junior. They're sourdough… She went to dinner tonight with a guy from the Historical Society. I hope he's a decent sort. She's gullible, and I feel responsible, since I brought her up here from Down Below. Do you know Herb Hackpole?" Junior finished chewing a large mouthful. "Everybody knows that guy." "Mrs. Cobb finds him quite likable." "Oh sure. He can be likable if he wants something. Mostly he's a troublemaker, always calling the paper with some piddling complaint, and we can't get kids to deliver papers on his block because of his dogs… Pass the butter, Qwill." "Has he always lived here?" "Born and raised here, Dad says. In school everybody hated his guts. He was your standard small-town bully, you know. The whole town cheered when he went east to work. Too bad he came back… Is there another beer?" "Sure, and we've got a couple more ears of com in the pot." Over coffee and peach pie the young editor said, "I'm supposed to ask you a favor. Do you know the secretary at GandG? She's my aunt." "I noticed a family resemblance," Qwilleran said.

"She thinks Penny is headed for trouble-working long hours and worried about something and drinking, which she doesn't usually do. My aunt thought maybe you could talk her into taking a vacation — a health spa in Mexico, or something like that." "Me? I'm only a client. She won't even go to lunch with me." "But Penny admires you a lot, no kidding. She used to clip your columns when you were writing for the Fluxion. She always-" He was interrupted abruptly by the insistent sound of his beeper. He jumped up and ran to the door. "Sorry.

There's a fire. Great meal!" He barreled away in his red Jaguar as the siren at City Hall summoned the volunteer firefighters.

It had been a busy day for Qwilleran, and it was not yet over. Penelope Goodwinter phoned to ask if she could pay a visit and bring a bottle.

Inpreparation for Penelope's visit Qwilleran carried an ice bucket and other bar essentials to the library. That was when he noticed several books on the floor-part of a twelve-volume set. The morocco covers were splayed and the India paper pages crumpled. His eyes traveled upward to the shelf and found Koko squeezed into the space between volumes II and VllI, having a nap. He had always liked to sleep on bookshelves.

"Bad cat!" Qwilleran shouted as he examined the mistreated books.

Waking suddenly, Koko yawned, stretched, and jumped to the floor, and stalked out of the room without comment.

Qwilleran replaced the books carefully, and at the same time he wondered if anyone in that house had ever read the handsomely bound twelve-volume poem titled Doomsday.

Doomsday! Qwilleran thought. Is that a prediction or some kind of catly curse?

He expected the tan BMW to pull into the circular drive as usual. Instead, the headlights searched out the rear of the house, and Penelope knocked at the back door with a playful rat-tat-tat that was out of keeping with her accustomed reserve.

"I hope you don't mind my coming to the service entrance," she caroled, waving a bottle of fine old Scotch. "After all, this is a terribly informal call." She was relaxed almost to the point of gaiety, and she looked casual and comfortable in white ducks, sandals, and a navy blue jersey. As Melinda had mentioned, a little nip did wonders for Penelope's personality. Yet, her face was haggard and her eyes looked tired. One earring was missing, and she wore no perfume.

"The ice cubes await us in the library," Qwilleran said with a flourish. "I find it the friendliest room in the house." The brown tones of bookbindings and leather upholstery absorbed the lamplight, producing a seductive glow.

Penelope slid into the slippery leather sofa and crossed her knees with the grace of a long-legged woman. Qwilleran chose a lounge chair and propped his injured leg on an ottoman.

"Are you on the mend?" she asked in a solicitous tone that sounded genuine.

"Twenty-three of my stitches are beginning to itch," he said, "so that's a healthy sign. I'm glad you decided to take a break. You've been working much too hard." "I admit my eyes are weary." "You need a couple of wet tea bags," he said. "My mother always recommended wet tea bags for tired eyes." "Is the remedy effective?" "Now is an appropriate time to find out." He hoisted himself out of the chair and returned with two soggy tea bags on a Wedgwood saucer. "Rest your head on the back of the sofa." She slid into a loungy position and said, "Oooh!" as he pressed the tea bags on her closed eyelids.

"How long since you've had a vacation, Penelope? I'm tired of calling you Miss Goodwinter. From now on it's Penelope whether you like it or not." "I like it," she murmured. "You should take a sybaritic week or two at one of those expensive health resorts," he suggested.

"A cruise would be more to my liking. Do you like cruise ships, Mr. Qwilleran?" "I can't say I've ever sailed strictly for pleasure… And it's Qwill, Penelope. Please!" "Now that you're a man of leisure, you might try it — the Greek Islands, the Norwegian Fjords — " She was waving an empty glass in his direction, and Qwilleran poured a refill. Her first drink had disappeared fast.