Lilian Jackson Braun - Cat 10 Who Talked to Ghosts

A year ago the barn had been the scene of an auction when the Goodwinters' household goods were liquidated. Now it functioned as a' garage and utility shed, housing garden tools, a work bench, odds and ends of lumber, and stacks of firewood. Mrs. Cobb's station wagon was parked there, and he assumed it would be sold. It was larger than his downscale compact and would more easily accommodate the cats' carrier and their commode. It might be enjoyable to take them on a few trips around the country. The Lanspeaks had been raving about the Blue Ridge Mountains. He wondered if the altitude would hurt their ears.

Finding a rake, Qwilleran embarked on a new experience - pleasant exercise that activated the muscles without engaging the mind. It gave him time to think about the irritating Vince Boswell, Koko's discovery of Iris Cobb's cookbook, the all-too-obvious attraction between Susan Exbridge and Dennis Hough, Polly's promised surprise, and the prospect of another dinner of curried something-or- other.

From the comer of his eye he was aware of someone small approaching him.

"Hi!" said Baby. Qwilleran grunted a reply and raked faster. "What are you doing?"

"Raking leaves."

"Why?"

"For the same reason you brush your teeth. It has to be done."

She considered this analogical reasoning briefly and followed up with, "How old are you?"

"That's classified information, How old are you?"

"Three in April."

"What kind of car do you drive?" Qwilleran asked.

"I don't have a car," she said with a pretty pout. He had to admit she was a pretty child as well as articulate.

"Why not?"

"I'm too little."

"Why don't you grow up?"

As Baby pondered an answer to this baffling question her mother came running down the lane. "Baby? Baby?" she called out in her gentle and ineffectual way. "Daddy doesn't want you to come down here, I'm sorry, Mr. Qwilleran. Was she bothering you? She's always asking annoying... questions?"

"She's training to be a journalist," Qwilleran said, raking industriously.

He finished his chore with satisfaction, heaping the leaves in piles for the yard crew to remove. Then he went indoors to feed the Siamese. The freezer-chest contained, he estimated, a two-month supply of spaghetti sauce, chili, macaroni and cheese (his favorite), vichyssoise, pot roast, turkey tetrazzini, shrimp gumbo, deviled crab, Swedish meatballs and other Cobb specialties - nothing in curry sauce, he was glad to note.

He thawed some pot roast for the cats, and while they were devouring it he took Mrs. Cobb's personal cookbook from the small desk and looked for his favorite coconut cream cake with apricot filling, but the handwriting defeated him. Over the years the pages had been spotted with cook's fingerprints and smeared with tomato, chocolate, egg yolk, and what appeared to be blood. He thought, One could boil this and make a tasty soup. Koko had probably smelled the presence of the book and tracked it to its hiding place in the desk. Remarkable cat! Sniffing the book himself, he could detect no noticeable scent. He returned it to the desk and dressed for dinner.

Polly lived in a small house on the old MacGregor farm. The last of the MacGregors had died, the main farmhouse was for sale, and the intelligent goose that used to patrol the property was no longer around. For one dark moment as he parked the car Qwilleran envisioned curried goose as Polly's surprise, but when he approached the front door the aroma of curried shrimp assailed his nostrils and he half expected to hear raga music.

"Don't tell me! I can guess what's for dinner," he said. Her greeting was unusually ardent. She bubbled with an excitement unlike her normal air of subdued happiness. "Shall we have an Attitude Adjustment Hour before dinner?" she asked, blithely jingling ice cubes in glasses. She served him Squunk water with a twist and passed a plate of olive-and-cheese hors d'oeuvres. Then, raising her sherry glass she said, "Eat thy bread with joy and drink thy Squunk water with a merry heart."

"You're in a good mood tonight," he said. "Did the library board vote you a raise?"

"Guess again."

"They approved a new heating system for the library?"

Polly jumped up. Ordinarily she rose gracefully, but she jumped up saying, "Close your eyes," as she hurried to the bedroom. When she returned he heard a faint squeak, and he opened his eyes to see her holding a small basket in which lay a small white kitten with large brown ears, large brown feet, a dark smudge on his nose, and the indescribably blue eyes of a Siamese.

"Meet my little boy," she said proudly. "He came all the way from Lockmaster on the bus today, traveling by himself."

"Is this what Siamese look like when they're young?" Qwilleran asked in astonishment. He had adopted both Koko and Yum Yum after they were grown.

"Isn't he adorable?" She lifted him from the basket and nuzzled her face against his fur. "We love him to pieces! He's such a sweetheart!... Are you my little sweetheart?.. Yes, he's my little sweetheart. Listen to him purr."