Lilian Jackson Braun - Cat 12 Who Knew A Cardinal

"Well, you know... she wasn't there at the barn Saturday night... and then someone saw you at Tipsy's on Sunday - with another woman, they said."

Qwilleran huffed into his moustache angrily. "Okay, where are the cartons? How many do you have to deliver? Let's get the van loaded!"

On the short drive to Goodwinter Boulevard the designer said, "Hilary's neighbors will have their telescopes out. They'll be sure I'm looting a dead man's house."

"I gather that snooping is a major pastime in Pickax."

"You don't know the half of it! There are two busy-bodies who make it their lifework to spy and pry and spread rumors. But if you meet them on the post office steps, they're so sweet!"

"Who are they?"

"I'll give you a couple of clues," Fran said teasingly. "One wears a plastic rainhat even when the sun is shining, and the other calls everyone Dear Heart."

"Thanks for warning me," Qwilleran said. "Was Hilary a good customer of yours?"

"He didn't buy much, but he liked to come in to the studio and look around and tell us things that we already knew. He considered himself an authority on everything. He bought a lamp once, and we upholstered a chair for him last year, but the screens are the first big order I wrote up. And then this had to happen!"

"I suppose your father got a search warrant and went into the house."

"I don't know," she said coolly.

"Does he know you're delivering merchandise?"

"No, but Dear Heart will see that he finds out. Actually, Qwill, Dad and I haven't been on good terms since I moved into my apartment."

"Too bad. Sorry to hear it." Fran parked in the rear of the house, and they started to unload. The interior was similar to others on Goodwinter Boulevard: large, square rooms with high ceilings, connected by wide arches; heavy woodwork in a dark varnish; a ponderous staircase lavished with carving and turnings; tall, narrow windows. But instead of the usual heirloom furniture and elaborate wallcoverings, the main rooms were white-walled and sparsely furnished with tatami floor matting, low Oriental tables, and floor cushions. There were a few pieces of porcelain, two Japanese scrolls, and a folding screen decorated with galloping fat-rumped horses. The only false note was the use of heavy draperies smothering the windows.

Fran explained, "Hilary was replacing the draperies with shoji screens so he could have light as well as privacy. He was quite secretive about his life- style."

"How could he live like this?" Qwilleran himself required large, comfortable chairs and a place to put his feet up.

"I believe he slept on a futon down here, but he said he had a study upstairs as well as rooms for books and hobbies."

Hobbies! Qwilleran found himself speculating wildly. "Okay if I look around?"

"Sure, go ahead," she said. "I'll be opening the cartons and putting each screen where it belongs. They were all custom-made, you know. We're talking about ten thousand dollars here, and God knows how long we'll have to wait to collect."

Qwilleran walked slowly up the impressive staircase, thinking about the ninety thousand books Compton had mentioned. He wondered if the collection included City of Brotherly Crime. He wondered if the books were catalogued. When he started opening doors, however, his hopes wilted; the books had never been unpacked. He went from room to room and found hundreds of sealed cartons of books - or so they were labeled.

Only one room was organized enough to have bookshelves, and they covered four walls. This was evidently the principal's study, having a desk, lounge chair, reading lamp, and stereo system. As for the volumes on the shelves, they expressed VanBrook's eclectic tastes: Eastern philosophy, Elizabethan drama, architecture, Oriental art, eighteenth- century costume, Cantonese cookery, botany - but nothing on urban crime.

The desktop in this hideaway had an excessive tidiness reflecting the influence of the Japanese style downstairs. A brass paperknife in the shape of a Chinese dragon was placed precisely parallel to the onyx-base pen set. The telephone was squared off with the lefthand edge of the desk, and a brass-bound box (locked) was squared off with the righthand edge. In between, in dead center, was a clean desk blotter on which lay a neat pile of letters. Apparently they had been received and opened on Saturday, at which time they were read and returned to their envelopes.