Braun, Lilian Jackson - The Cat Who 009

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!”