Lilian Jackson Braun - Cat 12 Who Knew A Cardinal

"All except the woman from Lockmaster who played the queen. And of course the spear carriers left on the school bus right after the coronation scene. You saw the show, didn't you?"

Brodie grunted an affirmative. "What were they all doing here besides eating pizza?"

"Drinking beer and soft drinks and coffee... hashing over the run of the play... celebrating its success... making a lot of noise."

"Were they smoking anything they shouldn't?"

"No. Carol puts the clamps on that. She runs a tight ship. Fran can tell you."

"Any arguments? Any brawls?"

"Nothing like that. Everyone was in a good humor."

"Did you see anybody hanging around the orchard that didn't belong?"

"Not tonight, but we've had curiosity- seekers prowling around ever since we moved in."

"How come VanBrook honored the party with his presence? He was an unsociable cuss."

"He had an ulterior motive," said Qwilleran. "He wanted to bring the entire student body tramping through my barn on field trips. He didn't ask me; he told me!"

"That sounds like him, all right. How popular was he in the club?"

"Ask Fran about that. I'm not an active member."

"Did you hear gunfire in the orchard?"

"No, but the cats heard something, and when I looked out the window I saw the taillights of a car pulling onto the highway."

"Which way did it go?"

"Turned right."

"Notice anything about the taillights?"

"Now that you mention it, Andy, they weren't the horizontal ones you see on passenger cars. They were vertical and set wide apart, like those on a van or truck."

"How long has your mailbox been knocked over?"

"It was okay when I picked up my Saturday mail."

"Well, somebody sideswiped it and bent the post."

"That should make your job easier," Qwilleran said, thinking, Somewhere there is a vehicle with a damaged fender over the right front wheel.

Brodie stood up. "No need to keep you up all night. I'll get back to you in the morning."

"Not too early - please!"

The chief walked to the door and turned to give the interior a final scowling appraisal. "I climbed many a ladder like that when I was a kid. What are the three white things that look like smokestacks?"

"Smokestacks. It's a contemporary idea for venting a fireplace. Bring your wife over some evening. She'll enjoy seeing Fran's work."

"Did my daughter pick out all this furniture?" Brodie asked, more in dismay than admiration.

"She gets all the credit. She has a good eye and good taste."

Brodie grunted and turned to leave, but he lingered with his hand on the doorhandle. "This fella that did over your barn - Dennis what's-his-name..."

"H-o-u-g-h, pronounced Huff. He's Iris Cobb's son."

"I hear Fran is kinda thick with him." He searched Qwilleran's face for verification. "He's married, you know."

"Don't worry," said Qwilleran. "All the women in town go for Dennis, but he dotes on his family, and when they move up here, the fringe element will cool off. Meanwhile, Fran and Dennis have merely collaborated on this project."

"I hope you're right... Well, good night. We've got the driveway blockaded at the far end, and we're leaving a man on duty. The crime lab is coming up from Down Below." Brodie walked away a few steps and added, "Something tells me this'll be an easy case to solve."

Qwilleran turned out the houselights and climbed the ramp to his bedroom, but he was in no mood to sleep. He perused a playbill and tried to imagine each actor with a smoking gun in hand. In each case it looked like bad casting. He wondered how soon Brodie would start ringing doorbells and rousing the party goers from their beds for interrogation. The chief would undoubtedly start with his own daughter, who lived in Indian Village, a popular apartment complex for singles. Susan, Dennis, and Hixie also had apartments there. The Lanspeaks lived farther out in a rambling country house. Poor Eddington Smith holed up downtown in the bookbinding workshop behind his bookstore. Other members of the club came from surrounding towns: bustling Kennebeck, quaint Sawdust City, ramshackle Wildcat, and as far away as the resort town of Mooseville. Only Wildcat lay to the south of Pickax; a driver heading for Wildcat would turn right on Trevelyan Road upon leaving Trevelyan Trail.

Lying there awake he remembered his houseman's prediction when he first saw the renovated barn. The white-haired and highly respected Pat O'Dell had been custodian of the Pickax high school before retiring and starting his own janitorial service. He gazed up at the lofty beams and said in a fearful voice, "Will yourself be livin' here?"

"Yes, I enjoy lots of space, Mr. O'Dell, and I'm counting on you and Mrs. Fulgrove to handle the maintenance as you did in my old apartment."

"The divil himself would be hard up to clean the windows way up there, I'm thinkin', or sweep the cobwebs down."

"That's one reason we built the catwalks. I hope you're not leery about heights."