Lilian Jackson Braun - Cat 12 Who Knew A Cardinal

On Sunday morning he called her number again. It was the hour when she would be feeding Bootsie and preparing poached eggs for her own breakfast. The phone rang twelve times before he hung up. This was disturbing. He began to fear she had arranged a date with Redbeard. The trainer could have left Lockmaster after the fifth race and reached Pickax in an hour. Qwilleran put on a jacket and went for a brisk walk on the pretext of picking up the Sunday papers. Detouring down Goodwinter Boulevard, he noted that Polly's car was not parked in its accustomed place; she might have driven to meet the man at some out-of-the-way rendezvous.

Polly and Qwilleran had been close friends for two years, sharing confidences, giving each other priority, consulting on every question that arose. And now she had bought a dress of strikingly different style and color without mentioning it. There was a possibility that her good friend Shirley had arranged to pair her with Redbeard at the wedding reception. There was no knowing what those two women talked about when they were together! It seemed significant that Shirley, when asked about the fellow photographed with Polly, had forgotten his name!

Systematically, Qwilleran reviewed the evidence: Polly canceled a dinner date at Tipsy's the day after the wedding, claiming to be tired. She was secretive about the mysterious phone call that came to her office. She had been to the hairdresser twice in less than a week - after a lifetime of washing and setting her own hair. Everything pointed to a rift in their intimate relationship. True, the last two years had seen ups and downs, tiffs and misunderstandings, but only because Polly was inclined to be jealous of the women he met in the course of everyday life.

Feeling frustrated and perhaps a trifle lonely, Qwilleran called Susan Exbridge to inquire about the barn tour.

"Darling, it was magnificent!" she cried. "Everyone loved everything!"

"I called to compliment you on leaving the place in perfect condition, but can you explain why I smelled apple pie when I walked in?"

"Did you like it? We simmered apples and cinnamon on the range all day. The Mayfus Orchard donated seven bushels of apples, and every guest was invited to take one. How was your weekend?"

"Pretty good. Were there any momentous local happenings while I was away?"

"Only an editorial in the Something, offering a huge reward for information on the VanBrook murder. I hope something develops to exonerate Dennis soon. You know, Qwill, I spent a lot of time and pulled a lot of strings in order to introduce that boy to Moose County's finest families - hoping to get him some jobs -and it will reflect on me if he turns out to be a murderer."

His next call was to Arch Riker at the publisher's apartment in Indian Village. "I hear you ran the editorial and offered the reward, Arch. Get any response?"

"Two, only. The city desk got a call from a crackpot who's always calling the paper. They know her voice. They call her Dear Heart. First she accused Lyle Compton. Her second choice was Larry Lanspeak. Take your pick... Then there was a tip that involved a member of our own staff."

"Who?" Qwilleran's mind raced through the roster of employees.

"Dave Landrum."

"Dave! He was in Lockmaster at a wedding Saturday night, I happen to know. That's why Roger took the night shift. How did they try to connect Dave with the case?"

"Well, this is a roundabout explanation. Are you ready? A year ago there was a fatal accident at the humpback bridge. Remember?"

The humpback bridge over Black Creek was notorious as an accident site. By speeding across it, young drivers could get a roller-coaster thrill, and if they traveled fast enough they were airborne for a second or two.

Qwilleran said, "As I recall, two kids were killed at the bridge, but it turned out to be a double suicide. Right?"

"That's the one - a lovers' pact. It happened September tenth - exactly one year before VanBrook got his. The person who called us seemed to think that was noteworthy."

"Do you know who called?"

"He declined to identify himself, but we gave him a code name so he can collect his fifty grand if the tip checks out."

"How was Dave supposed to be involved?"

"He's the father of one of the kids."

"I don't get it," Qwilleran said.

"Neither did I, until we checked our files. Dave's daughter was valedictorian of the June class at Pickax High, and her boyfriend was a football player. We ran a 'Died Suddenly' obit when it happened, and then the usual letters came in from irate readers demanding that the humpback bridge should be flattened out. Nothing was ever done about the bridge, of course, but Roger, who gets around to the coffeeshops a lot, came up with the scuttlebutt. The young couple had hoped to attend a state college where they could live in a coed dorm. Unfortunately, the boy's grades were borderline, and VanBrook refused to graduate him."

"Nothing wrong with that, is there?"