Lilian Jackson Braun - Cat 10 Who Talked to Ghosts

"It was fabulous!" she said. "You should have been there. They served excellent champagne and hors d'oeuvres. All the important people were there. Everyone dressed up for the occasion. Susan was looking smashing in a designer original, but then she always does; I wish I had that woman's figure. I met Iris's son; he's very personable. And the antiques - you wouldn't believe! They had a $10,000 Chippendale chair! A side chair! It didn't even have arms! And a $90,000 highboy!"

"Who's going to pay those prices in Moose County?"

"Don't kid yourself, Qwill. There's plenty of old money up here. They don't flaunt it, but they've got it - people like Doctor Zoller, Euphonia Gage, Doctor Halifax, the Lanspeaks, and how about you?"

"I've explained that before, Mildred. I'm not the acquisitive type. If I can't eat it or wear it, I don't buy it. Iris and Susan must have invested a fortune in that shop."

"They did," Mildred said, "and now Susan has it all. She really lucked out." Lowering her voice she added, "Don't repeat it, but - from what I noticed this afternoon - she's got her sights on Iris's son, too. I happen to know that he checked out of the hotel Thursday night but isn't leaving town until tomorrow. The hotel auditor is married to our school counselor, and I saw them both in Lanspeak's store today."

"I would have gone to the reception," Qwilleran said, "but I was interviewing an interesting young woman - Kristi Fugtree."

"I remember her," said Mildred. "I had her in art class - a very good weaver. She had intriguing eyes, like some movie star I've seen, but I can't remember who. She married and moved away. Is she back again?"

"She's back again and living on the family farm, raising goats and selling goat's milk."

"Well, that's different, isn't it? Kristi was always different. When my other students were weaving acrylic and chenille, Kristi was weaving cornhusks and milkweed."

"Do you know the fellow she married? His last name was Waffle."

"I knew him only by sight and reputation, and I thought Kristi made a bad choice. He was a good-looking kid and popular with the girls. Kristi was the only one who didn't run after him, so naturally he pursued her. Probably thought she had Fugtree money. If he had had any brains he would have known that the family fortune was thrown away by Captain Fugtree, who was very well-liked, but he was a snob and a loafer with a large ego. If Kristi's raising goats, at least she has more ambition than her illustrious forebear."

Qwilleran said, "The house has been neglected for years, but it's an architectural gem."

"Especially the tower! In my nubile days, when we used to hang out in the Willoway, we could see the tower above the trees, and we thought it looked haunted."

"What's the Willoway?"

"Haven't you discovered the Willoway? You're slipping, Qwill," she said with a mischievous smile. "It's a lover's lane under the willow trees that grow on the banks of the Black Creek. The trail starts at the bridge near the museum and then angles across the back of the Goodwinter and Fugtree property. It's notoriously romantic! You should explore it, Qwill - with a suitable companion!"

On Sunday morning Qwilleran explored the Willoway, alone - although not so alone as he expected.

The expedition was not premeditated. He had been strolling about the grounds of the museum with his hands in his pockets, inhaling deeply, enjoying the riotous autumn color, when he received the distinct impression that he was being watched. He looked in all directions in a casual way, as if admiring the view.

Had he looked toward the farmhouse he would have discovered two pairs of intensely blue eyes fastened on him, but that did not occur to him. He glanced toward the east and saw farmland; to the north was the barn, minus Boswell's van; to the west one could see the tower of the Fugtree mansion rising above the treetops. Perhaps, he thought with pleasure, Kristi was watching him through the binoculars. It was amazing, he thought, how one could sense the fact from such a distance. He groomed his moustache and straightened his shoulders and decided to explore the Willoway.

The crisp, bright October day was so clear that one could hear the faint sound of church bells in West Middle Hummock three miles away. First he walked up Black Creek Lane, then east on Fugtree Road to the bridge, where he slid down an embankment to the stream. Although narrow and shallow, the creek rippled and gurgled briskly over the stones under the drooping branches of willows, while the trail-soft with decades of humus and now gaudily patterned with fallen leaves - was shaded by maples and oaks.