Lilian Jackson Braun - Cat 11 Who Lived High

"I prefer to have it there," Qwilleran said. "Will you water the trees? They haven't had any attention for a week." "Water trees, change beds, put sheets and towels through laundry, turn on dishwasher, push vac around, and dust a bit," she recited. "I don't do windows." She marched into the kitchen and poked her head into the dishwasher, which was empty.

"I take my meals out," Qwilleran explained. "That's the cats' plate on the floor. There may be some cat hairs around the apartment. I have two Siamese." It hardly needed mentioning. Koko was circling the woman with intense interest and sniffing her shoes.

"No bother. Miss Bessinger had a Persian, and I have a tom of my own, though his tomcattin' days be over.

You've seen Napoleon, like as not. We live on the main floor, and he be a sociable critter." She headed for the gallery with the vacuum cleaner and attachments, which Qwilleran offered to carry. Her regional speech reminded him of certain longtime residents of Moose County. "May I ask where you came from originally, Mrs. Jasper? You're not city bred." "Aye, I come from a small town up north, name of Chipmunk. My paw had a potato farm." "I know Chipmunk very well," he said. "I live in Pickax City." "Aye, Pickax! Paw used to drive the wagon to Pickax to buy feed and seed. Sundays we went fishin' at Purple Point. Once we see'd a minstrel show at Sawdust City. It were good livin' up there, it were. A body felt safe. On the radio this mornin' they was three people shot to death at the Penniman Hotel, and a man in a car shot another driver on the freeway. It warn't like that in Chipmunk!" "When did you leave Moose County?" Qwilleran asked as he plugged in the vacuum for her.

"I were fifteen year old. I be seventy-six next birthday but more strong and able than some young ones be. On the farm I hoed potatoes and kept chickens and milked the cow and growed vegetables for the table - afore I were ten year old." "Why did you leave Chipmunk?" "I were itchin' to see the big city, so my paw let me come and live with my aunt Florrie. She were a cook for some folks livin' here, and she got me a job as a housemaid. Worked here seven year afore I married my Andrew and raised a family. He were a mailman. Three boys and two girls we had, and one born dead. I cooked and cleaned and washed and ironed and made every thin' they wore on their backs till they growed up and moved away. Then I went back to housekeepin' for folks, and when my Andrew died - that good man! - I moved in here, main floor, and kep' right on workin'." "Was Miss Bessinger nice to work for?" "Aye, she were very tidy. Some folks is terrible messy, but not her! It were a great pity what happened." "Did you clean for the man next door also?" "Aye. He were messy, but he were a nice man. Come from the country, he did. Them tubs of dirt on the porch - he growed tomatoes, com, and beans out there last summer, and the hellycopter were always flyin' over, disturbin' the peace. Didn't know corn plants when they saw 'em." "Were you shocked to hear he had murdered Miss Bessinger?" "I were that! I were up late that night, watchin' TV, and I heard screamin' outside the window and then a big bang.

That were when he landed on a car. I looked out, but it were dark back there. Then the police and ambulance come, and I went out in the hall - everybody out there in their nightclothes and Mrs. Tuttle tellin' them to go back to bed. It were awful!

No one knowed she were lyin' dead upstairs." Mrs. Jasper turned on the vacuum cleaner, putting an end to her monologue and Qwilleran went in search of the Siamese. Yum Yum was on the waterbed, gazing into middle distance; Koko was prowling restlessly, talking to himself in guttural rumblings and curling his tail into a corkscrew - something he had never done before. Qwilleran called the desk and inquired about an animal clinic.

"Are the kitties sick?" Mrs. Tuttle asked.

"No, just acting moody, and I want to have them checked." "The nearest vet is out River Road eight miles." She gave the name and number of the clinic. "You have to call for an appointment. How is Mrs. Jasper doing?" "She's a vigorous woman for her age." "Don't know where she gets her pep. She'll talk your ear off, too, if you let her. Hope there's nothing wrong with the kitties." He called the clinic and said he would like the doctor to examine two Siamese.

"What is the nature of the problem?" asked the receptionist.