Lilian Jackson Braun - Cat 10 Who Talked to Ghosts

"Hmmm," he mused, searching for good reasons to decline. "Wouldn't two big cats with loud voices frighten him?"

"I doubt it. He's a well-adjusted little fellow. Nothing bothers him."

"Yum Yum might think he's a mouse."

"She's smart enough to know better. He won't be any trouble, Qwill, and you'll love him as much as I do."

"Well... I'll give it a try... but if he expects me to kiss-kiss, he's grievously mistaken."

Qwilleran pushed his way through the growing crowd, noting the presence of attorney Hasselnch and his wife, Dr. Zoller and his latest blond, Arch Riker and the lovely Amanda, the Boswells with Baby, and several politicians whose names would be on the November ballot. Vince Boswell's voice could be heard above all the rest. "Are they going to have refreshments? Iris used to make the best damned cookies!"

Eventually Qwilleran reached the disaster exhibit. As Mildred had said, the dramatic impact was created with photo murals. They depicted the 1892 logjam that took seven lives, the 1898 fire that destroyed Sawdust City, the wreck of a three-masted schooner in the 1901 storm, and other calamities in Moose County history, but the dominating display was the "Truth or Myth?" vignette, which revived old questions about the mysterious end of Ephraim Goodwinter.

The story of the mine explosion and its aftermath was presented graphically without commentary. Photo blowups and newspaper clippings were grouped under four dates:

May 13, 1904 - Photo of rescue crew at Goodwinter Mine. Headlines from Down Below say: 32 KILLED IN MINE EXPLOSION.

May 18, 1904 - Photo of weeping widows and children. Excerpt from Pickax Picayune of that date: "Mr. and Mrs. Ephraim Goodwinter and family left today for several months abroad."

August 25, 1904 - Architect's rendering of proposed library building. Feature story in the Picayune: "The city soon will have a public library, thanks to the munificence of Mr. Ephraim Goodwinter, owner and publisher of this newspaper."

November 2, 1904 - Photo of Ephraim's funeral procession. Report in the Picayune: "Mourners accompanied the earthly remains of the late Ephraim Goodwinter to the grave in the longest funeral procession on record. Mr. Goodwinter died suddenly on Tuesday."

Interspersed with the enlarged photos and clippings were miners' hats, pickaxes, and sledgehammers - even a miner's lunchbucket with reference to the meat-and-potato "pasties" that they traditionally carried down the mine shaft. A portrait of the sour-faced philanthropist showed the knife slash it received while on display in the lobby of the public library. A fuzzy snapshot of the Hanging Tree with its grisly burden was identified as "unidentified." There was also a photocopy of the alleged suicide note in handwriting remarkably similar to that of A. Lincoln. A ballot box invited visitors to vote: Suicide or Murder?

Qwilleran's elbow was jostled by Hixie Rice, advertising manager for the Moose County Something. "I get one message from all this," she said. "What Ephraim needed was a good public relations counselor."

"What he needed," said Qwilleran, "was some common sense."

He retraced his course through the crowd and found the Lanspeaks in the office. "You said something was missing. What is it?"

"The sheet," said Carol.

"What sheet?"

"We displayed a white sheet that the Reverend Mr. Crawbanks found near the Hanging Tree after Ephraim's death."

"Do you mean to say that someone stole it?" Qwilleran asked.

Larry said somberly, "It's the only thing that has ever been removed from our exhibit space, and we've had some valuable stuff on display. Obviously we have a crackpot in our midst. And we know it's an inside job because it was missing when the doors first opened to the public at one o'clock. It's no great loss. The sheet had dubious value even as a historic artifact. But I don't like the idea that we have a petty thief on the staff."

Qwilleran asked, "How many people have keys to the museum. Homer tells me you have seventy-five volunteers."

"No one has a key. The volunteers let themselves in with the official key hidden on the front porch."

"Hidden where? Under the door mat?"

"Under the basket of Indian com hanging above the doorbell," said Carol.

"We've always considered our people completely trustworthy, " said Larry.

Qwilleran excused himself and went in search of the exhibit chairperson. He found Mildred in conversation with Verona Boswell, who was saying, "Baby talked in complete sentences by the time she was eight months old." She was clutching the hand of the tiny girl in blue velvet coat and hat.

"Excuse me, Mrs. Boswell," said Qwilleran. "May I borrow Mrs. Hanstable to explain one of the exhibits?"

"Why, of course... Baby, do you know who this is? Say hi to Mr. Qwilleran." "Hi!" she said.

"Hi," he replied more graciously than usual.

He steered Mildred into the deserted textile room. "It's a quiet place to talk," he explained. "I have yet to see a single visitor looking at this godawful exhibit."