Lilian Jackson Braun - Cat 11 Who Lived High

After toweling and donning his old plaid bathrobe in the Mackintosh tartan (his mother had been a Mackintosh), he was in the process of eating another apple when he heard incredible sounds from the adjoining apartment - like a hundred-piece orchestra tuning up discordantly for Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture. The cats' ears swiveled nervously, the left and right ears twisting in opposite directions. He realized that they were hearing a composition for the synthesizer, a kind of music he had not yet learned to appreciate. He also realized that the walls between 14-A and 14-B were regrettably thin - one of the Casablanca's Depression economies. By the time he had finished dressing, however, the recording ended, a door slammed again, and his neighbor apparently went out for the evening.

He checked out the cats as he always did before leaving and found Yum Yum in the bedroom, sniffing the waterbed, but Koko was not in evidence. He called his name and received no response. For one sickening moment he wondered if the cat had discovered a secret exit. Hurrying from room to room he called and searched and worried. It was not until he went down into the conversation pit that he found the missing Koko.

The eight-foot bar in the pit was situated rather conspicuously in the middle of the floor, and Koko was sniffing this piece of furniture, oblivious of everything else. Qwilleran himself had not touched alcohol for several years, and when he served spirits to his guests, Koko showed no interest whatever unless he happened upon a stray anchovy olive. So why was he so intent upon investigating this leather-upholstered, teak-topped liquor dispensary? Koko always had a sound reason for his actions, although it was not always obvious.

Qwilleran opened the drawers and cabinets of the bar and found decanters, glassware, jiggers, corkscrews, muddlers, napkins, and so forth. That was all.

"Sorry, Koko," he said. "No anchovies. No mice. No dead bodies." The cat ignored him. He was sniffing the base of the bar, running his twitching nose along the line where the furniture met the carpet, as if some small object had found its way underneath. Qwilleran touched his moustache questioningly, his curiosity aroused. It was a heavy bar, but by putting his shoulder against one end of it he could slide it across the tightly woven carpet. As it began to move, Koko became agitated, prancing back and forth in encouragement.

"If this turns out to be an anchovy-stuffed olive," Qwilleran said, "you're going to be in the doghouse!" He shoved again. The ponderous bar moved a few inches at a time.

Then Koko yowled. A thin dark line had appeared on the pale carpet. It widened as Qwilleran lunged with his shoulder - wider and wider until a large dark stain was revealed.

"Blood!" Qwilleran said.

"Yow!" said Koko. He arched his back, elongated his legs, hooked his tail, and pranced in a circle. Qwilleran had seen the dance before - Koko's death dance. Then from the cat's innards came a new sound: less than a growl yet deeper than a purr. It sounded like "Rrrrrrrrrr!"

4

BEFORE LEAVING FOR dinner with Amberina, Qwilleran made a long-distance phone call. It was Sunday evening, and Polly Duncan would be at home waiting for news. He deemed it advisable to keep the report upbeat: Yes, he had enjoyed the trip... Yes, the cats behaved well... The manager and custodian were helpful. The apartment was spacious and well-furnished, with a magnificent view of the sunset. He mentioned nothing about the malfunctioning elevator nor the leaking skylight nor the bulletproof window at the manager's desk nor the bloodstain on the carpet, and he especially avoided reference to his dinner date with Amberina. Polly was a wonderful woman but inclined to be jealous.

Then he said goodbye to the Siamese, having placed their blue cushion on the bed in the small bedroom. "Be good kids," he said. "Have a nap and stay out of trouble. I'll be back in a couple of hours, perhaps with a doggie bag." He turned off all the lights except the one in the bathroom, where they had their commode, thinking that the darkness would encourage them to nap and stay out of mischief.

Leaving 14-A, he spotted a namecard tacked on the door of 14-B, and he sauntered close enough to read it. His neighbor's name was indeed Keestra Hedrog, as Mrs. Tuttle had said. It looked like something spelled backward and he considered tacking a namecard to his own door: Mij Narelliwq.