Lilian Jackson Braun - Cat 11 Who Lived High

"Roberto, this is a great occasion," Qwilleran said. "It's been three years since we last met, but it seems like three decades. Let me tell you that your restaurant is handsome, and the food is superb." "I have learned a few things," said the host. "Sit you down. We shall have an aperitif... and some private conversation... and then go down to dinner." Qwilleran selected an assemblage of rods and planes that seemed least likely to assault his body and found it not only surprisingly substantial but remarkably comfortable. The other two members of the party seated themselves at some distance from each other and from Qwilleran. Space was part of the design in this cool, calm, empty environment.

"The service downstairs," Qwilleran went on, "is excellent. Where do you find such good waiters?" "Law students," said the restaurateur. "I tell them to consider our customers... as the ladies and gentlemen of the jury." "I'm glad you've hired Charlotte Roop as your manager. She seems very happy and not quite so strait-laced." Mary said, "You can't give all the credit to the job. She has a male companion, probably for the first time in her life." "I know," said Qwilleran. "I've met him. Does anyone know what happened to his ear?" "Dynamite explosion," said Roberto. "The poor fellow... is lucky to be alive." "He's had extensive plastic surgery," Mary added.

They discussed the metamorphosis of Junktown, Zwinger Boulevard, River Road, and the city in general. Then Roberto said, "I understand you have a problem, Mr. Qwilleran... concerning the Casablanca." "I do indeed, and it has nothing to do with ways and means, since the Klingenschoen Fund has agreed to underwrite the restoration. The obstacle is Miss Plumb herself. I thought I had established a rapport with her, but as soon as I mentioned the possibility of a restoration, she dropped the curtain. Perhaps you know how to get through to her. After all, you were her attorney for - how many years?" Roberto took a deep breath and emphasized his words with the hand gestures of desperation. "Twelve years!

Twelve frustrating, thankless years. I much prefer to be... stuffing tortellini." Mary said, "How does she react to your proposal to write a book, Qwill?" "I doubt whether she grasps the concept, but she likes the idea of having her picture taken. Leaving the book aside, there is one aspect of this entire project that alarms me. SOCK has powerful opponents, and now that the news has leaked that SOCK has a source of funding, they may take desperate measures. All they need to do is pray for Miss Plumb's demise, you know, and their goal is accomplished. If their prayers are answered, Providence might deal her a sudden heart attack or a cerebral hemorrhage or salmonella poisoning." "A rather... ghastly... hypothesis," said Roberto.

"Did you know that her maid died suddenly yesterday?" "Elpidia?" Mary asked in surprise.

"Elpidia. Food poisoning, they said. Was it the chicken hash? Or did she sneak some chocolates intended for the Countess?" Roberto said stiffly, "If you suspect attempts on Miss Plumb's life... I see no foundation whatever... for your line of reasoning." "A great many interests would benefit from the Countess's death: the developers, the banks, the city treasury..." "But we are talking about reputable businessmen and civic leaders... not the underworld." "I know the Pennimans and the Greystones are fine old families, patrons of the arts, and all that, but who is Fleudd?" Roberto and Mary exchanged glances but neither ventured a reply. Mary said, "Qwill's hunches have been right in the past, Roberto, even when they seemed farfetched." "I'm not making any accusations," Qwilleran said. "I'm just throwing out a few questions, Who, for example, is the grotesque houseman who works for the Countess? Can he be trusted?" "Ferdinand," Mary said earnestly, "is a very loyal and helpful employee, no matter how absurd he may appear. His mother has been housekeeper for the Countess for years." "And who handles her legal affairs now that you're out of the picture, Roberto? Who drew up her new will after the Bessinger murder?" "My former law firm." "Why did they steer her bequests to miscellaneous charities? Are they unsympathetic to the Casablanca cause?" Mary said, "They were obviously influenced by the Pennimans - " "What I am saying is this," Qwilleran interrupted. "The cards are stacked against us. Ordinarily I don't give up easily, but now I'm convinced that the Casablanca restoration is hopeless. What concerns me is the safety of that pathetic little woman on the twelfth floor. What can be done to protect her?" Roberto was frowning and withdrawing in a display of incredulity.