Lilian Jackson Braun - Cat 12 Who Knew A Cardinal

When they reached the lakeshore, the vacation cottages on the beach had an air of desertion. Qwilleran said, "It's around the next curve. Slow down."

"I'm getting nervous," said Hixie.

The letter K on a post marked the entrance to the Klingenschoen property, and the private drive led through patches of woods and over a succession of dunes until it emerged in a clearing.

"There's no one here!" Qwilleran said. "This is where he'd have to park."

They found tire tracks in the soft earth, however, and on the beach at the foot of the dune there were footprints. Sand and surf had not yet disguised the traces. The cabin itself, closed for the season, was undisturbed.

"If he's been on the run, he's been sleeping in his van," Qwilleran said. "How well do you know the manager at Indian Village?"

"We have a good rapport, and she's high on my Christmas list."

"Could you get the key to Dennis's apartment?"

"I could think of something... I could say that he's out of town and called me to send him papers from his desk."

"Good enough."

In Indian Village there were eight apartments in each two-story building, with a central hall serving them all. Hixie admitted Qwilleran into her own apartment and then went to see the manager. She returned with the key.

"It's my contention," Qwilleran told her, "that Dennis returned from the party early Sunday morning and either found a message on his answering machine or found something in his Saturday mail that caused him to take off in a hurry. It would have to be serious business to make him hide out in his van - a threat perhaps."

Entering Dennis's apartment with caution and stealth, they went directly to the desk. It was cluttered with papers in connection with the barn remodeling. There was a pink or yellow order form for every can of paint and every pound of nails that went into the job. The only sign of recent mail delivery was an unopened telephone bill. Then Qwilleran pressed the button of the answering machine.

When he heard the first message, he reached for the pocket-size recorder that was always in his jacket along with his keys.

"We've got to tape this," he said. "I want to play it for Brodie. But don't say a word about this to anyone, Hixie. Let's get back to town."

Hixie drove to the theatre parking lot, and Qwilleran walked the rest of the way home - through the iron gate, through the woods. Approaching the barn, he could see a van parked at the back door- Dennis's van - and he quickened his step, torn between relief and apprehension.

The back door was unlocked, as he expected; Dennis knew where to find the key. Walking into the kitchen Qwilleran shouted a cheerful, "Hello! Anybody here?" The only response was a wild shrieking and gutteral howling from the top balcony. He had locked the Siamese in their loft that morning, troubled as he was by his gnawing sense of foreboding. The cacophony from the loft made his blood run cold, and an awareness of death made him catch his breath. He moved toward the center of the building and slowly, systematically, surveyed the cavernous interior.

The afternoon sun was slanting through the high windows on the west, making triangles on the rugs, walls, and white fireplace cube, and across one triangle of sunlight there was a vertical shadow - the shadow of a body hanging from a beam overhead.

-6-

Dennis Hough - creator of the spectacular barn renovation and darling of the Theatre Club - had let himself into the apple barn Tuesday afternoon, using the hidden key. Then he climbed to the upper balcony, threw a rope over a beam, and jumped from the railing.

Brodie himself responded when Qwilleran made his grisly discovery and called the police. The chief strode into the barn saying, "What did I tell you? What did I tell you? This is the man who killed VanBrook. He couldn't live with himself!"

"You've got it wrong," Qwilleran said. "Let me play you a tape. Dennis arrived at his apartment early Sunday morning, following the party, and checked his answering machine for messages. This is what he heard."

There followed a woman's voice, bitter and vindictive. "Don't come home, Dennis! Not ever! I've filed for divorce. I've found someone who'll be a good daddy for Denny and a real husband for me. Denny doesn't even know you any more. There's nothing you can say or do, so don't call me. Just stay up north and have your jollies."

Qwilleran said, "Do you want to hear it again?"

"No," Brodie said. "How did you get this?"

"I had access to his apartment, just as he had access to this barn. I found the message this afternoon and taped it to disprove your theory. Dennis didn't know he was under suspicion - or even that VanBrook had been killed, probably. He was overwhelmed by his own private tragedy."

Brodie grunted and massaged his chin. "We'll have to notify that woman as next of kin."