Lilian Jackson Braun - Cat 11 Who Lived High

"That figures. He was obsessed with knives. When did this happen?" "On Labor Day weekend." "Why is so much of this Ross fellow's work hanging in the apartment?" "Well," said Mary, selecting her words with care, "he was a young artist... and she thought he had promise...

and she promoted him in her gallery. He was her prot‚g‚, you might say." "Uh-huh," said Qwilleran knowingly. "Where is he now? I assume he was convicted." "No," Mary said slowly. "He was never brought to trial... You see, he left a confession... and took his own life."

6

QWILLERAN FELT IN better spirits when he left the Blue Dragon. Koko's discovery was pertinent: 14-A had been the scene of a murder. That cat had an infallible sense when it came to turning up evidence of criminal activity.

Carrying the Grinchman & Hills report Qwilleran headed for home with a brisk step, eager to start reading. Instead of wasting time on dinner in a restaurant, he stopped at the Carriage House Cafe to inquire about take-out food.

"We don't usually... do... take-outs," said the cashier in a distracted way. She was staring at Qwilleran's oversized moustache. "Are you on television?" Regarding her with mournful eyes under drooping lids, he said in a rich, resonant tone reserved for such occasions, "At this moment I am live - in person - talking with an attractive woman behind a cash register, regarding the possibility of a take-out dinner." "I'll see what I can do," she called over her shoulder as she hurried into the kitchen. Immediately a man with long hair and a chef's hat peered through the small window in the kitchen door. Qwilleran gave him a cordial salute.

The cashier returned. "We don't have take-out trays, but the cook will put together a serving of today's special, if you don't mind carrying a regular plate. You can bring it back tomorrow. Are you driving?" "I'm walking but I don't have far to go. What is your special?" "Beef Stroganoff." "It sounds most appetizing." "We'll put some coleslaw and a dinner roll in foil," the cashier volunteered.

While retrieving his bill clip from his pocket, Qwilleran placed the Grinchman & Hills report on the counter and noticed the cashier trying to read it upside down.

"Grinch... man... and... Hills," she read aloud. "Is that the script for a movie?" she asked, wide-eyed.

"Yes, but keep it quiet;" he replied in a low voice with a swift glance to either side. "It's going to be a buddy movie like Bonnie and Clyde or Harold and Maude. I'm playing Grinchman." Leaving a sizable tip for a happy and flustered cashier, he departed with the bulky report under one arm and a plate of hot food covered with foil, on top of which were balanced two foil packets. "Your coleslaw and buttered roll," the cashier told him with an expansive display of hospitality. "Open the door for him," she called to the busboy.

Qwilleran covered the distance to the Casablanca quickly, and a young man held the two heavy doors for him, saying, "Somebody's gonna eat tonight." On the main floor there was activity suitable for late afternoon on a Monday. The person seated in the phone booth was telephoning and neither swigging nor snorting. An elderly man using a walker moved down the hall slowly and with extreme concentration. Kitty-Baby, having picked up the scent of the beef Stroganoff, was dogging Qwilleran's feet. In the vicinity of the desk a young man was swinging a mop across the floor, while Mrs. Tuttle sat at her post, knitting, and Rupert lounged about in his red hat. Despite the tools in his jacket pocket, he never seemed to do much work. Among the persons waiting for the elevator were employed tenants with gaunt end-of-day expressions, the Asian mother with her children, elderly souls complaining about Medicare, and students with an excess of youthful energy, talking loudly about bridges, professors, and final exams. Probably engineering students, Qwilleran guessed.

Rupert caught his eye and nodded toward the elevators. "Both workin' today." "A cause for celebration," Qwilleran replied. While the passengers waited in suspense, reassuring knocks and whines could be heard in both elevator shafts. Old Green was the first to appear, immediately filling with passengers and going on its way. Then the door of Old Red opened, and two of the waiting students rushed aboard. Qwilleran stood back, allowing a white-haired woman with a cane to go next. Slowly, one faltering step at a time, she approached the car, and just as her head and one foot were inside, the heavy door started to close.

"Hold it!" he yelled. One student lunged for the door; the other lunged at the woman, pushing her from danger. As she toppled backward, Qwilleran dropped everything and caught her, while Old Red closed its door and took off.