Lilian Jackson Braun - Cat 11 Who Lived High

"Real flowers," Amberina whispered as she fingered the rosebuds in a Venetian glass vase. "I wonder how many of these vases they lose." There was little general conversation as they adjusted to the elegance of the room and the awesomeness of the menu. Finally she said, "Tell me honestly, Mr. Qwilleran. What do you think of the Casablanca?" "It's a dump! Does anyone really think it's worth restoring? Does anyone think it's even possible to restore such a ruin?" "SOCK is positive," she replied earnestly. "Mary Duckworth and Roberto are officers, and you know they don't waste their time on a lot of baloney. They've had an architect make a study for SOCK, and he knows exactly what has to be done and how to do it and how much it will cost. I don't have the exact facts, but Mary can fill you in on that stuff." "Where is she?" "Right now she's flying back from Philadelphia. There was a big antique show there, and she took a double booth.

Her porters drove a truckload down, and she expected it would return empty. Mary has that snooty manner, you know, and she can sell anything and get a good price for it. People believe her! I wish I had her class. But that's the way it goes!

The rich get richer. Her family is in banking, you know." "Does she still wear kimonos embroidered with dragons when she waits on customers?" "No, she's gone back to being preppy, pearls and everything... EEK! Did you see these prices?" she squealed when she saw the right-hand side of the card. "I'm glad I'm not paying for this! I'm going to order the most expensive thing on the menu. The chances are I'll never come here again." They each ordered an antipasto, soup, and a veal dish. Then Qwilleran said, "I have a few questions to ask, Amberina. Is the elevator service always as bad as it was today?" "I wish you'd call me Amber," she said. " And you seem to have forgotten that you used to call me Qwill." "I didn't forget," she said sheepishly, "but now that you've got all that money, I thought I should call you mister...

What were we talking about?" "The elevators." "Oh, yes... You just happened to hit a bad weekend. Usually they break down one at a time, and that's not so bad. Or if it happens during the week, we're in luck, because the serviceman comes right away - if it's during the day. It's time and a half after five o'clock, you know, and the management doesn't go for that." "I should have taken an apartment on a lower floor," Qwilleran said. "Another question: What's the meaning of the notice in the elevator about cats and spraying? It doesn't sound good." "Oh, that! Mrs. Tuttle posts a notice every time the exterminator is scheduled. He sprays the hallways, plus any apartments that request it, so people keep their cats locked up on Spray Day." "My cats never go out under any circumstances." "That's a good idea. They can get on the elevator and just... disappear. There's a big turnover in cats at the Casablanca." "Do you have one?" "No, I have fish. They're cheaper and they don't have to go to the vet. They just die." "Frankly, I fail to understand the roving-cat policy at the Casablanca." "It's for rodent control." "Does the building have rats in addition to everything else?" "Only around the back street, where they keep the dumpsters. I've had mice in my apartment, athough. I don't know how mice get up to the eighth floor." "On Old Red," Qwilleran suggested. The antipasti were served: breaded baby squid with marinara sauce, and roasted red peppers with anchovies and onion.

"I wish my sisters could see me now!" said Amber. "Eating squid at Roberto's with a millionaire!" "Getting back to the notices in the elevator," he said, "is there a large market for baby grand pianos at the Casablanca?" "You'd be surprised! There's still some money floating around the building - and a few good-sized apartments.

We have elderly widows who are loaded! They don't move out because they've always lived here." "Who's selling the piano? The sign says apartment 10-F." "That's Isabelle Wilburton. Her rooms are crammed with family heirlooms, and she sells them off one at a time to buy booze." "What does she look like? I saw a middle-aged woman in a cocktail dress, tippling in the phone booth when I moved in." "That's our Isabelle! Her family made a killing in the furniture business, and they pay her basic living expenses, so long as she stays out of their sight. I warn you! Don't let Isabelle latch onto you! She'll drive you crazy." The antipasto plates were whisked away, and the proficient waiter - who was always there when needed and absent when not - served the soup, a rich chicken broth threaded with egg and cheese.