Lilian Jackson Braun - Cat 12 Who Knew A Cardinal

"It's tempting! I have one reservation, however. The stablemaster is highly competent, but he has an unsavory past. Besides having a reputation as a heavy drinker and a womanizer, he was chased out of jobs Down Below for illegal use of drugs in connection with racehorses. Too bad. I believe I mentioned him before. His name is Steve O'Hare."

Polly put down her glass abruptly and turned pale. "Do you feel all right?" he asked.

"A little dizzy, that's all. I skipped lunch - trying to lose a few pounds," she said with a pathetic smile. "The sherry - "

"We'll have the soup served right away." He signaled the waitress. "Eat a roll. I'll butter it for you. And don't worry about losing weight, Polly. I like you best just the way you are." When the chicken gumbo was served and she had revived, he went on. "Do you realize this is our first dinner together in ten days? And we've missed two weekends! That's no kind of track record for you and me."

"I know," she said ruefully. "We belong together. The last two years have been the best years of my life, dearest."

"I could say the same... What are we going to do about it?"

"What do you want to do about it?"

The halibut steaks arrived, with broccoli spears and squash souffle, and the answer was deferred.

Polly said, while dealing with a small bone in the fish, "Is there... anything new... at barn?"

"You won't recognize the orchard. It was damaged by last week's storm, but the debris has been cleared up and some of the worst trees removed. The number of prowlers has increased since the barn tour. Those who objected to paying five dollars are now trying to get a free peek. I've ordered mini-blinds, but it takes three weeks."

"Have the tapestries arrived?"

"Yes, and they've been hung. I think you'll like them. The largest hangs from the railing of the topmost catwalk, and I only hope it's secure. It's hooked onto tack-strips, and in our household we're subject to Yum Yum's law: If anything can be unhooked, untied, unbuckled, or unlatched, DO IT! She started with shoelaces and advanced to desk drawers. Tapestries may be next on her list, so I'm monitoring the situation closely. Her voice is changing, too. After all, she's about five years old - a mature female. Frequently she delivers a very assertive contralto yowl that sounds suspiciously like NOW!"

"What does Koko think about all of this?" Polly asked.

"He has his own pursuits. Lately he's been chummy with a cardinal in the orchard. They commune through the window glass, and here's the astonishing thing: Last Saturday a horse named Son of Cardinal won the fifth race at the steeplechase. Is that a coincidence or not? Suppose Koko could pick winners! He'd be a very valuable animal... Did I tell you I met the woman who played in Henry VIII? She's a retiring, insecure little creature that VanBrook reshaped in the image of Queen Katharine - a Pygmalion act that must have bolstered his ego."

Qwilleran was unusually talkative, rambling from one subject to another - evidence that he had missed Polly's company more than he realized. She, on the other hand, was unusually quiet, simply asking questions.

At one point she asked, "Did you read the letter that an eleven-year-old girl wrote to the editor of the Something last week?"

"I never read anything written by eleven-year-old girls," he stated in his mock-curmudgeon style.

"There were several replies in Friday's paper. I knew you were out of town, so I photocopied them for you. It's about the Tipsy problem."

"Problem? What kind of problem?"

"Read the original letter, and you'll see what I mean."

The communication from one Debbie Watts of Kennebeck had been printed with all the juvenile errors that made Qwilleran wince.

I am 11 years old in 5th grade. My gramma told me to rite. We have a famly ablum. It has a pitcher of my gramma when she was a girl. She worked at Tipsy's. They took a pitcher of her and Tipsy out in front. She says Tipsy had white feet. Her feet are white in the pitcher.

"Hmmm," Qwilleran said, considering the significance of this revelation. "The portrait in the restaurant has black feet."

"Exactly! If the prize goes to a Tipsy look-alike, does that mean black feet or white feet? Now read the replies."

The first was signed by a Mrs. G. Wilson Goodwinter of West Middle Hummock. That was an old family name of distinction, and the suburb was an affluent one.

Little Debbie Watts is correct. My housekeeper's daughter works in a nursing home Down Below, and one of her patients is an old sailor who knew Tipsy when she lived at Gus's Timberline Bar on the waterfront. Gus was from Moose County, and during the Depression he came back here and opened a restaurant, bringing Tipsy with him and naming the establishment in her honor. The patient describes Tipsy as having white feet. He is quite definite about it.

Qwilleran said, "This looks bad for Hixie Rice and her bright idea."

"Read on," Polly instructed him.

Next was a letter from Margaret DeRoche of Sawdust City: