Lilian Jackson Braun - Cat 11 Who Lived High

Qwilleran asked her, "Is there an engineering school in the vicinity? These kids are always talking about bridges." "They're from the dental school," she said. "Qwill, meet my neighbor on Eight, Courtney Hampton. Courtney, this is Jim Qwilleran. He's got Di's apartment on Fourteen." The young man she introduced had square shoulders, slim hips, and a suit of the latest cut. He glanced at Qwilleran's boots and tweeds and said with a nasal twang, "Just in from the country?" Amber said, "Courtney works at Kipper & Fine, the men's clothing store. What have you been doing all day, Qwill?" "Walking around. Getting oriented. Everything has changed." "The Casablanca will be the next to go," her neighbor predicted. "Don't unpack your luggage." "I wonder what's on TV tonight?" Amber said with a weary sigh.

"As for me," said Courtney with a grandiose flourish of eyebrows, "if anyone is interested, I... am playing bridge.

.. with the Countess tonight." "La di da," said Amber. Both elevators arrived simultaneously, and the crowd surged aboard, separating Qwilleran from the other two. As Old Green reluctantly ascended, it performed a sluggish ritual at each floor, first bouncing to a stop, then listlessly opening its door to unload a passenger, after which it waited a long minute, closed its door in slow motion, and crept upward to the next floor. No one spoke. Passengers were holding their collective breath.

It had been a long day, and Qwilleran was glad to be home, but when he opened the door of 14-A he was met by a blast of heat. The radiators were hissing and clanking, and both cats were stretched full-length on the floor, panting.

"What happened?" he demanded. "It must be 110 in here!" He hunted for a thermostat and, finding none, grabbed the housephone. "Mrs. Tuttle! Qwilleran in 14-A. What happened to the furnace? We're suffocating! The cats are half cooked! I expect the window glass to melt!" "Open the windows," she said calmly. "Your side of the building heats up when a cold wind comes from the east.

We don't have much control over it. The apartments on the east side are freezing, and the furnace works overtime to try to get them a little heat. Just open all your windows." He did as he was told, and the Siamese revived sufficiently to sit up and take a little nourishment in the form of a can of red salmon. As for Qwilleran, he lost no time in going out to dinner. It occurred to him that he should invite Amber; she looked too tired to thaw whatever was in her grocery bag, and the temperature in her apartment might be insufferable, whether she lived on the frigid or sweltering side of the building. Yet, he disliked her line of conversation, and he believed that too soon an invitation might encourage her. In his present financial situation he had to be careful. Women used to be attracted to his ample moustache; now he feared they were attracted to his ample bank account.

Feeling guilty, he went to the nearest restaurant on Eat Street, which happened to be Japanese - a roomful of hibachi tables under lighted canopies, against a background of shoji screens and Japanese art. Each table seated eight around a large grill, and Qwilleran was conducted to a table where four persons were already seated.

He often dined alone and entertained himself by eavesdropping and composing scenarios about the other diners.

At the hibachi table he found a young couple sipping tea from handleless gray cups and giggling about the chopsticks.

The man was cloyingly attentive, and his companion kept admiring her ring finger. Newlyweds, Qwilleran decided. From the country. Honeymooning in the big city. They ordered chicken from the low end of the menu.

At the opposite end of the table two men in business suits were drinking sake martinis and ordering the lobster- steak-shrimp combination. On expense accounts, Qwilleran guessed. (He himself ordered the medium-priced teriyaki steak.) Upon further study, pursued surreptitiously, he decided that the man wearing a custom-tailored suit and ostentatious gold jewelry was treating the other man to dinner, his guest being a deferential sort in a suit off the rack and a shirt too loose around the neck. Also, he had a bandage on his ear. They were a curious pair- employer and employee, Qwilleran thought, judging by their respective attitudes. He had a feeling that he had seen that ear patch at the - Casablanca - in the lobby or in the elevator. The man in question suddenly glanced in Qwilleran's direction, then mumbled something to his host, who turned to look at the newcomer with the oversized moustache. All of this Qwilleran observed from the corner of his eye, enjoying it immensely.