Lilian Jackson Braun - Cat 10 Who Talked to Ghosts

"Beautiful!" Mitch said in a half-whisper.

"Incredible!" Qwilleran said under his breath.

The three sat quietly for a while, each with private thoughts. The rain relented; the tumult subsided; and Qwilleran brought himself to murmur, "What can I say?... Thank you... Good night." He squeezed Kristi's hand, touched Mitch's shoulder, and found his way out of the house. "My God!" he said aloud, sitting in the driver's seat, reluctant to turn on the ignition.

At home he dropped into his wing chair and fell into a reverie so deep that he didn't hear the vehicle pulling up to the door. The brass knocker startled him. He jumped up and opened the door, saying, "Mitch! Did you forget something?"

"Just wanted to talk for a minute - without Kristi."

"Come into the kitchen and get that wet jacket off. Do you want a cup of coffee before you drive home?"

"It might be a good idea."

"Put another log on the fire while I make the coffee." "Sorry to come back so late."

"Forget it! What's on your mind?"

Mitch gave him a searching look. "Tell me honestly, Qwill. Did you see Emmaline?"

"Did you?" Qwilleran asked, returning the intent gaze.

"I've never seen her," the young man confessed.

"To tell the truth," Qwilleran said, "I didn't see her either, but I felt a chill. I sensed an invisible presence. Perhaps I was reacting to Kristi's emotion. Whatever, it was a memorable experience."

They drank coffee for a while without talking. Then Qwilleran said, "Have a doughnut." He pushed the plate across the table.

"Thanks. These are pretty good doughnuts."

"Kristi's an interesting young woman," Qwilleran said. "I worry about her - with Brent still at large."

"Is he dangerous?"

"Worse still, he's stupid! He was okay until they went Down Below and he started doing drugs. He fell apart. Used to be a good-looking guy, too. At least, Kristi thought so, I guess."

"If he's that far gone," Qwilleran speculated, "it won't take the police long to track him down. It takes a modicum of intelligence and some animal instinct to be a fugitive."

"You're right!" Mitch pushed the plate back across the table. "Doughnut?"

"Yes. They're not bad."

"Up front, Qwill, do you think I stand a chance of getting the museum job?"

"I'm on your side, Mitch, but it's in the hands of the museum board."

"I've been doing some lobbying, and most of them pledged their support, but Larry and Susan are dragging their feet - that's what it seems like."

"I'll see what I can do on your behalf."

"Sure appreciate it." Mitch stared into his coffee cup and fidgeted.

"Another doughnut, Mitch?" The plate went back across the table.

"Thanks."

Qwilleran read the signals. "Is there something else on your mind?"

"Well, when you were telling us about Iris hearing the noises, I thought of something I should tell you, something I heard recently from one of the old-timers. He got the story from an old blacksmith who used to shoe the Goodwinter horses... You know about the big funeral they had for Ephraim?"

"I certainly do! Thirty-seven carriages, fifty-two buggies, or was it the other way around?"

"This blacksmith told the old-timer that Ephraim wasn't in the coffin!"

"Why? Did he know why?"

"The family of the old miser was afraid he'd be dug up - by his enemies, you know - so they went through the motions of burying him in the cemetery, but actually he was secretly buried, here on the farm."

"Where? Do you know?"

"Under the house!"

"Now I've heard everything, Mitch. Do you believe that story?"

"I'm only telling you what I heard, Qwill, on account of what you said about Iris, and the way your cat is acting."

"Hmmm," Qwilleran said, stroking his moustache. "How about another cup of coffee?"

"Thanks, but I've got to be going. I'm on the day shift this week."

Qwilleran and Koko walked their guest to the door and watched the blue pickup drive away. The rain had stopped, but the trees were still dripping, and the night was dark. Koko was sniffing and peering into the blackness, and Qwilleran made a lunge for the cat before he could cross the threshold and disappear into the night.

-15-

AT MIDNIGHT QWILLERAN retired to the General Grant bed with a paperback novel that Koko had twice knocked off the shelf. He had read One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest some years before and had seen the movie but he was willing to read it again. He tried, but his eyes only processed the words automatically while his mind reviewed the evening with Kristi, Mitch, and Emmaline. He particularly relished the rumor about Ephraim's burial under the house. Mitch apparently believed the story, but the old-timer who revealed it may have imagined the whole thing, or the blacksmith who related it may have taken a swig after a hard day at the anvil. Nevertheless, Qwilleran liked the story.