Lilian Jackson Braun - Cat 12 Who Knew A Cardinal

"Thanks for bringing this information," said Qwilleran, waving the sheet of paper. "If you'll send us that r‚sum‚, we'll go to work on it and hope that the trustees are interested."

"Come on, Robbie," said his mother. "Say thank you for the cider."

The three visitors stood up, and as Steve put on his jacket he noticed something on the floor. He picked it up. "What's this?" It was a small metal engraving of a horse's head, mounted on a wooden block.

"That's an old printing block," said Qwilleran. "The cats have been batting it around."

"I could use that on the front page of Stablechat."

"Take it. You're welcome to it."

"Oh! That's very nice of you," said Fiona. "Don't forget your tissue box."

"Here's the latest issue of Stablechat," Steve said, tossing it on the coffee table. "It has all the race results from the 'chase."

Qwilleran accompanied the delegation out to their van, making the requisite remarks about the temperature and the possibility of rain. When he returned, Yum Yum was wriggling flatly out from under the sofa, and Koko was busy tearing up the last issue of Stablechat. Holding it down with his forepaws, he grabbed a corner with his fangs and jerked his head. Qwilleran watched the systematic destruction, admiring the cat's efficiency. Was there something about the smell of the ink or the quality of the paper that gave him a thrill? This was the second time he had shredded the horsey newsletter.

Abruptly, Koko dropped his task. His head rose on a stretched neck and swiveled like a periscope in the direction of the entrance. The tableau lasted for only a second before he dashed to the window adjoining the door.

At the same moment, Qwilleran heard a gunshot, followed by a triumphant laugh. He made a dash for the door. The van was starting down the lane, and on the ground near the berry bushes lay a small red body.

"My God!" he gasped. "That stupid kid shot the cardinal!"

-12-

Qwilleran dug a hole near the berry bushes and buried the lordly cardinal in a coffee can to keep marauding animals from desecrating the remains. Raccoons and roving dogs sometimes appeared from nowhere in violation of city ordinance. From a window Koko watched the interment with his ears askew, and when Qwilleran returned indoors he was yowling and pacing the floor.

"Okay, we'll go out and pay our respects to the deceased," Qwilleran said calmly, although his teeth were clenched in anger.

He harnessed both cats. Yum Yum rolled over in a leaden lump of uncooperative fur, but Koko was eager to go. As soon as he was outside the door, he walked directly to the spot on the earth where the cardinal had fallen, then sniffed the burial place. Eventually he was persuaded to explore the perimeter of the barn, and after ten minutes - when the telephone summoned them indoors - he had had enough. He toppled over and lay on his side to lick his paws.

The call was from Mildred Hanstable, one of the judges in the Tipsy contest. "You sound angry," she said after Qwilleran had barked into the mouthpiece.

"Someone shot a cardinal in my barnyard! I'm not angry; I'm mad as hell!"

"Do you know who did it?"

"Yes, and he's going to get a tongue lashing that he won't forget! What's on your mind? Is the contest called off?"

"No, you'll be sorry to hear. We're due at Tipsy's for dinner around six o'clock. I have a hair appointment this afternoon, and then I'll have some time to kill, in case you want to invite me over. I could use a fortifying drink before having dinner with my boss. Lyle is such a sourpuss!"

"It's all an act," Qwilleran reassured her. "Lyle Compton is a pussycat masquerading as an English bull."

"Anyway, I'm dying to see the barn without five hundred paying guests bumping into me. I was one of the guides, you know."

"You're invited," he said with curt hospitality. Koko was still licking his paws, and Yum Yum was still in a simulated coma, although she revived promptly as soon as the harness was removed. Qwilleran glanced at his watch. The delegation would have had time to return to Lockmaster, unless Steve stopped on the way for a drink.

He phoned the Bushland house. "This is Qwill. How do I reach Fiona?"

"You sound upset. Is anything wrong?" Vicki asked in alarm. "She was due at your place with Steve and Robbie a couple of hours ago."

"They were here and they left, and that brat shot a bird in my barnyard - a cardinal! I want to have a few words with his mother before I light into him."

"I'm so sorry, Qwill. I'll have her call you," Vicki said. "She's due here to help me with a hunt breakfast for tomorrow."

"Do that. Not later than five o'clock."

The arrival of Mildred Hanstable was therapy for Qwilleran's bruised sensibilities. A healthy, happy, outgoing, buxom woman of his own age, she had an aura of generosity that attracted man and beast. The Siamese greeted her with exuberance, sensing there was a packet of homemade crunchies for them in her voluminous handbag.