Lilian Jackson Braun - Cat 12 Who Knew A Cardinal

"I'll be willing to do it," said Qwilleran, who prided himself on his comforting and understanding manner in notifying the bereaved. He punched a number supplied by directory assistance, and when a woman's voice answered he said in his practiced tone of sincerity and concern, "Is this Mrs. Hough?" The fact that he pronounced it correctly was in his favor.

"Yes?" she replied.

"This is Jim Qwilleran, a friend of your husband, calling from Pickax - "

"I don't want to talk to any friend of that skunk!" she screamed into the phone and banged down the receiver.

Qwilleran winced. "Did you hear that, Andy?"

"Gimme the phone." Brodie punched the same number, and when she answered he said in his official monotone, "This is the police calling. Your husband is dead, Mrs. Hough. Suicide. Request directions for disposition of the: body... Thank you, ma'am."

He turned to Qwilleran. "I won't repeat what she said. The gist of it is - we can do what we please. She wants no part of her husband, dead or alive."

Qwilleran said, "His friends in the Theatre Club will handle everything. I'll call Larry Lanspeak."

"I'll take the tape," Brodie said. "Just keep it quiet. He was never declared a suspect, so there's no need to deny the rumor. Let the public think what they want; we'll continue the investigation."

While the emergency crew and medical examiner went about their work, Qwilleran notified one person about the suicide, and that was Hixie. "You'll hear it on the six o'clock news," he said. "Dennis has taken his life." He waited for her hysterical outburst to subside and then said, "Don't mention the message from his wife to anyone, Hixie. Those are Brodie's orders. When he finds the real killer, Dennis will be cleared."

At six o'clock a brief announcement on WPKX stated: "A building contractor - Dennis Hough, thirty, of St. Louis, Missouri - died suddenly today IN... a Pickax barn... he had recently... remodeled. No details... are... available." The name of the deceased was pronounced Huck. "Died suddenly" was a euphemism for suicide in the north country.

Qwilleran was loathe to imagine the anguish of his friend's private moments preceding his desperate act. He thought: If I had been here, I could have prevented it. Qwilleran's own life had once been in ruins. He knew the shock of a suddenly failed marriage, the pain of rejection, the guilt, the sense of failure, the hopelessness. He skipped dinner, finding the thought of food nauseating, and fed the Siamese in their loft apartment. Koko, who knew something extraordinary had been happening, was determined to escape and investigate, but Qwilleran brought him down with a lunging tackle.

Down on the main level he turned on the answering machine; he wished no idle gossip, no prying questions. Then he shut himself in his studio, away from the sight of those overhead beams, that fireplace cube, and those triangular windows. He tried to lose himself in the pages of a book. As he delved farther and farther into the Backhouse biography, it occurred to him that the life of the mysterious VanBrook would be equally fascinating. The mystery of the man's personality and background, whether resolved or not, would be intensified by his violent death. The search for the killer, sidetracked by false suspicions, would add another dimension of suspense.

There was a violent storm that night. Gale winds from Canada swept across the big lake and joined with heavy rain to lash the rotting apple trees. By morning, the orchard was a wreck, and Trevelyan Trail was a ribbon of mud. Qwilleran called the landscape service, requesting a clean-up crew and truckloads of crushed stone.

Then he showered and shaved in a hurry and fed the cats without ceremony. It was Wednesday, and he hoped to escape before the vigorous Mrs. Fulgrove arrived to dust, vacuum, polish, and deliver her weekly lecture. This week her topics would undoubtedly be murder and suicide, in addition to her usual tirade about the abundance of cat hair. He succeeded in avoiding her and even had time for coffee and a roll at Lois's Luncheonette before reporting to the back door of Amanda's Studio of Interior Design.

He was met by a distraught young woman. "Dad told me about it!" Fran cried. "He wouldn't discuss motive, but everyone says it means that Dennis killed VanBrook."

Irritably Qwilleran said, "What everyone in Pickax says, thinks, feels, knows, or believes is of no concern to me, Fran."

"I know how you must feel about it, Qwill. I'm distressed, too. Dennis and I worked so compatibly on the barn. I'll miss him."

"Larry is arranging the funeral. There'll be a private service in the Dingleberry chapel for a few friends, then burial next to his mother."

Fran asked, "How is Polly reacting?"

"We haven't discussed it," he said.

"Are you two getting along all right?" she asked with concern.

"Why do you want to know?" he asked sharply.