Lilian Braun - The Cat Who Dropped a Bombshell

Wetherby said, "The poster would make a better presentation if framed. I know a guy in Horseradish who'll frame it for nothing - just to go along with a gag!"

The others were laughing and cheering them on and Judd said he'd make a few bids for it himself. "Is this what they call shill bidding? Is it ethical?"

"In this case, it's just a stunt," Qwilleran said, "and the proceeds go to a good cause. We'll get Foxy Fred to make it the first item on the block. It'll wake up the audience. Get them in the spirit of the occasion. . . . The trick will be, Joe, to decide how high to go. To make it a sensation, it should be an outrageous figure, which the K Fund will cover, of course."

During the evening there was plenty of conversation about cats. Jet Stream swaggered among the guests and accepted compliments and crumbs of cheese. Clarissa showed her snapshot of Jerome, the only British Shorthair in the county, she thought. Dr. Connie, newly divorced, had acquired a marmalade, related to Dundee, the bibliocat at the bookstore.

Polly said that Brutus and Catta had made friends with a wild rabbit, who came out of the woods daily to commune with them through the window wall.

Qwilleran told them that Koko and Yum Yum were studying crows aiming for a degree in corvidology. He refrained from reporting Koko's death howl in the case of the missing rabbit hunter.

Before the evening was over, Wetherby played Mendelssohn's Presto Agitato, which required incredible nimbleness of fingering. Judd, the engineer, insisted that the music required a pianist to play a thousand notes a minute. Clarissa, the journalist, checked to see if Wetherby had six fingers on each hand.

Polly said, "Joe, why aren't you on the concert stage?"

"I'm not good enough," he said. "And I believe if you can't be good, be fast."

The party broke up early. Before leaving with Judd, Clarissa whispered to Qwilleran that she wanted to talk with him about the Ledfields. "Anytime!" he said. Wetherby took her streetcar poster and promised to have it framed overnight.

Back at the barn, Qwilleran phoned the police chief at home. "Andy, are you interested in talking about rabbit hunters over a thimbleful of Scotch?"

"I'll talk about anything over a wee dram!"

Andrew Brodie lived in the neighbourhood and drove into the barnyard within minutes. The Siamese rushed to the kitchen window, either recognizing the sound of the chief's motor or reading Qwilleran's mind. They knew the burly Scotsman with the loud voice. Over the years he had progressed from suspicious stranger to admiring friend, calling them "that smart Koko" and "my little sweetheart." Yum Yum was not only allowed to untie his shoelaces but was expected to do so.

Brodie made himself at home, sitting at the snack bar, pouring a large "thimbleful" of Scotch and cutting a slice of cheese.

He said, "M' wife and some ladies from the church saw your show this afternoon. She said they all had a good cry. It's not the first time they've seen it. How does it feel to give it in the opera house?"

"Better than church basements, school gyms, and county parks."

Brodie commented on the tastiness of the cheese, a Manchego from Spain. He said he'd never heard of it but it was good!

Finally Qwilleran said, "I hear there was a disturbance in North Middle Hummock yesterday."

"What do you know about it?"

"I was there to cover the Ogilvie-Fugtree family reunion, but by the time I got home, there was a message on my phone, canceling the story. I phoned the paper and learned someone from the party had been killed while hunting rabbits."

The chief took a swig of his drink before saying, "Off the record, it looks like homicide. A member of the party was arrested on suspicions. That's all I'm tellin'."

Qwilleran said, "That smart Koko, who's gobbling crumbs of cheese that you ?accidentally' drop, probably knows more than the sheriff does." He referred to the cat's death howl at five-fifteen, the day the hunter was reported missing.

"What else does that smart cat know?"

"That's all I'm tellin', Andy."

Chapter 11

On Monday morning, while feeding the cats, Qwilleran received a phone call from Mitch Ogilvie. "Qwill, I owe you an apology!" "About what?"

"You wasted a whole afternoon of your valuable time."

"My time is never wasted, Mitch. Everything is fodder for the ?Qwill Pen' or even for a future novel! Who knows? However, I'm curious to know what actually happened Saturday afternoon."

Mitch said, "I'm going to town for supplies. Could you meet me somewhere?"

"How about coming to the barn? You know where it is."

In half an hour the goat farmer's van pulled into the barnyard, and Qwilleran went out to welcome his longtime friend.

Mitch handed him a foil-wrapped package. "Some goat cheese. They say it's good for allergies and digestion."

Indoors, coffee was served in the living area, where two sumptuously cushioned sofas right-angled around a large square coffee table, facing the fireplace cube.

"I don't mind telling you," Mitch said, "it's good to get away from the celebrating crowd - or what's left of it. A lot of them went home early because of the . . . incident. Did you meet the two young fellows who went rabbit hunting, Qwill? I still can't believe what happened."

"Who were the two rabbit hunters? Where were they from?"

"Well, it's quite a story. They're cousins, Max and Theo. Both living in Texas. They have a rich uncle, who has named them his sole heirs because other branches of the family have all the money they need."

"Did the rich uncle come to the reunion?"

"No. Uncle Morry is an invalid and never travels. . . . Now Theo is dead, and Max is suspected. The police say it was homicide - not an accident - and they must have reasons."

Qwilleran asked, "Were they both good hunters?"

"Well, I don't know. It was Max's idea, and Theo seemed to go along."

"How much do you know for a fact?"

"Well, Max says they decided to split up in the woods, one on each side of the creek. They invented a code for keeping in touch. Two whistles meant got-a-rabbit. Three whistles quitting-returning-to-farm. Max never heard any signals from Theo, although he heard a lot of shotgun fire on the other side of the creek."

Qwilleran asked, "Is one side of the creek better hunting than the other?"

"The west bank," Mitch said, "and Max gave that side to Theo, who's a less experienced hunter. When he came back alone I was ready to lead a search party, but Kristi said Theo might be hurt, and there was no time to waste, so we called the sheriff. After all, it was Saturday, and the locals would be out to bag their Sunday dinner."

Qwilleran asked, "How are the members of the family reacting?"

"They're not talking, but they all have guarded expressions, as if they know something. Kristi says Max and Theo have always been at loggerheads."

"Do you have an opinion, Mitch - off the record?"

"Well, you can't help thinking that the surviving heir will double his inheritance."

At that moment Koko, who had been on the balcony and listening - fell or jumped onto one of the sofa cushions next to the visitor. He landed close enough to make Mitch yelp!

"Bad cat!" Qwilleran scolded, and Koko left the scene in a guilty scramble.

"Sorry!" Qwilleran said. "That's the second time he's done that."

"That's all right," Mitch said. "He just wants to be included in the conversation. Or it's time for his lunch. . . . I'm leaving, anyway. Errands to do."

"Give Kristi my best wishes. She's looking wonderful, and the twins are a credit to you both."

He walked with his guest to the barnyard and then returned to face an impudent-looking Koko on the bar top with legs splayed, eyes like a pair of daggers, and tail lashing! What was he saying?