Lilian Jackson Braun - Cat 10 Who Talked to Ghosts

"It's grim, isn't it?" she agreed. "We tried to spark it up with colored backgrounds and clever signs, and we roped it off to make it look important, but everyone loves the red velvet roping and hates the textiles. What's on your mind, Qwill?"

"I'd like to compliment you on the disaster exhibit. It's attracting a lot of attention."

"I thank you, and Fran Brodie thanks you. It will be interesting to see the result of the voting."

"Have you looked at the exhibit today?"

"I haven't been able to get near it. Too many people. Did someone take another poke at Ephraim's portrait?"

"No, Mildred, someone walked off with the Reverend Mr. Crawbanks' sheet."

"Really? You wouldn't kid me, would you?"

"Carol discovered that it was missing. She and Larry are surprised to say the least. They have no idea who might have pilfered it. Have you?"

"Qwill," she said, "I don't pretend to understand anything that's going on in today's society. Why don't you ask Koko whodunit? He's smarter than either of us."

"Speaking of Koko," he said, "I wish you would look at that Inchpot bed pillow. Do you see anything unusual about it?"

She studied the limp pillow critically. "Only that it's been moved." She stepped over the velvet roping, plumped the pillow and arranged it more artfully. "There! Does that look better?"

"Is it a normal occurrence for displayed objects to be moved?"

"Well... no. The volunteers are told never to disarrange the exhibits. Why do you ask?"

He lowered his voice. "I brought Koko in here the other day, and he zeroed in on that pillow and sniffed it. He wouldn't leave it alone until I ejected him bodily from the museum. Now, don't tell me it's stuffed with chicken feathers, because the pillow from the Trevelyan farm is also stuffed with chicken feathers, but he ignored it completely."

"Let's see what it says on the ill card," Mildred said, I stepping over the roping again and picking up the handprinted label. "It was used on the Inchpot farm prior to World War I... The cover is a washed flour sack... It's stuffed with chicken feathers from the Inchpot coops... It was donated by Adeline Inchpot Crowe."

"Did you say Crow?"

"With an e on the end."

"Let's get out of here, Mildred. These seventy-five-year-old chicken feathers give me an acute case of depression. How would you like to have a look at Iris's cookbook while you're here?"

Qwilleran ran interference through the throng and suggested a cup of coffee when they entered the kitchen of the west wing.

"Or a little something else?" Mildred said coyly. "Large crowds make me nervous unless I have a glass in my hand."

"I'll see what I can find. Iris didn't maintain a well-stocked bar."

"Anything will do if it has a little buzz."

Qwilleran started rattling ice cubes. "The cookbook is in the school desk under the telephone. Lift up the lid... I find dry sherry, Dubonnet and Campari. What'll it be?" There was no response.

"Did you find it?" he asked. "It's just a looseleaf notebook, mixed in with a lot of clippings and scraps of paper."

Mildred was bending over the small desk. "It's not here."

"It's got to be there! I saw it a couple of days ago."

"It's not here," she insisted. "Come and look."

Qwilleran hurried to peer over her shoulder. "Where could it have gone?"

"The cats stole it," she said archly.

"Koko lifted the lid, and Yum Yum heisted it with her famous paw."

"Not likely. They're larcenous, but a looseleaf notebook two inches thick is out of their class."

"You may have mislaid it."

"I looked at the handwriting for about ten seconds and then put it back in the desk. Someone came in here and pinched it - someone who knew where Iris kept it. Did she ever invite the museum staff in for coffee or anything?"

"Yes, often, but - "

"There's no lock on the door between here and the museum. Someone had three days to do the job. I've been out every day. We've got to get a lock on that door! What's to stop anyone from coming in and snatching the cats?" He stopped and looked around. "Where are they? They're usually in the kitchen. I haven't seen them. Where are they?"

-12-

AFTER THE SIAMESE had been found asleep on a pink towel the bathroom (insulated from the museum hubbub), and after Mildred had finished her Campari, and after the crowd had thinned out, Qwilleran went in search of Larry Lanspeak. The president was in the office conferring with a few directors of the museum.

"Come in, Qwill," said Larry. "We were just discussing the incident of the missing sheet."

"Now you can discuss the incident of the missing cookbook," Qwilleran said. "Iris's collection of recipes has disappeared from her desk."

"The cookbook I can understand," said Susan, "but who would take a sheet with holes in it?"

Carol suggested posting a large sign on the volunteers' bulletin board. "We could say, 'Will the volunteers who borrowed the sheet from the disaster exhibit and the cookbook from Iris Cobb's desk please return them to the museum office immediately. No questions asked.' How does that sound?"