Lilian Jackson Braun - Cat 12 Who Knew A Cardinal

"Well, it comes from the inside of a tiny flower. That's all I know. Have you tried bleach?"

They drove to Kennebeck in Qwilleran's car, and while Mildred chattered about roadside litter and the high cost of art supplies, he was pondering VanBrook's indoor garden. If the man had been raising saffron, he had a $20,000 crop in one small room. He would have to export it, of course - to gourmet centers around the country. By using lights he might grow five crops a year - a lucrative hobby for a rural principal... And then Qwilleran thought, Did VanBrook know of another use for saffron? Did he learn something in the Orient? Perhaps it could be smoked! In that case, the crop was worth millions! And then he wondered, as he had done earlier, What was in those hundreds of boxes - besides books?

Before he could formulate a satisfying guess, they arrived at Tipsy's restaurant. Hixie Rice greeted them and conducted them to a table, the one beneath the fraudulent black-booted Tipsy. Lyle Compton was already there, sipping a martini.

Hixie said, "I'll brief you and then leave you while I marshal the contestants in the lodge hall across the street." She produced two stacks of snapshots. "These are the finalists in both categories, a total of fifty. Run through them while you're having your drinks and choose the likeliest candidates, based on markings. Later, when you judge them live, your final selection will be based on the sweetest and funniest... See you shortly. The crowd is already lining up on the sidewalk, and the doors don't open for another hour." She bounced out of the dining room with the supreme confidence that was her trademark.

"I'm having another drink," Compton announced, bestowing his grouchy grimace on the other two judges.

Mildred said, "I'm not sure I approve of a duplicate prize based on a forgery. What kind of values are we presenting to our young people?"

Qwilleran said, "No one ever told me what the prize is going to be."

"Don't you read your own newspaper?" she scolded. "It's a case of catfood, fifty pounds of kitty gravel, and an all- expense weekend for two in Minneapolis."

"Let's go through this bunch of fakes first," said the superintendent, picking up the black-booted entries. He was accustomed to taking charge of a meeting. "The definitive marking, as we all know, is the so-called hat - the black patch over one ear and eye. That'll eliminate most of them."

Qwilleran said, "I see black collars, black earmuffs, black moustaches, black sunglasses, black epaulets, and black cummerbunds, but no hats."

Mildred spotted a hat with a chin- strap.

"Hang onto it. You may have a winner," said Compton.

"Are all these finalists going to be present in person?" Qwilleran asked.

"That's the idea. With fifty live cats in one room, there won't be much sweetness of expression," the superintendent predicted.

The white-footed entries were in the minority, and there were only three with hats, as opposed to seven hatted contestants in the other category.

"Having any luck?" asked Hixie when she breezed back into the dining room.

"Here's the best we can do." Mildred spread the ten snapshots on the table.

"Good! Turn them over, and you'll see a code number on the back: W-2, B-6, B- 12, and so forth. Okay? When the cats parade in front of you, each will be accompanied by a chaperon wearing the assigned code number. When you spot the ten preselected numbers, direct them to the runner-up platform. Then put your heads together and make the final decision. Take your time. Delay will add to the suspense... Now, is everything clear? I'll be back to get you in an hour. Enjoy your dinner. Be sure to have the bread pudding for dessert; it's super!... And wait till you see the enthusiastic crowd! This is the greatest thing that ever happened to Kennebeck! By the way, we have sweeter-and-funnier T- shirts for you if you care to wear them."

"Are you kidding?" Mildred asked.

The judges watched Hixie stride from the dining room. Every time the restaurant door opened, the hubbub across the street could be heard, and Compton said, "Sounds more like a riot to me!" They ordered steaks, and he turned to Qwilleran. "My wife says your barn tour was a big success."

"So I hear. I was glad to be out of town."

"It's true," said Mildred. "The visitors loved it, and they were simply floored by the apple tree tapestry. They objected to the zoological prints, though. Why do people have such an antipathy to bats? They're such cute little things, and they eat tons of mosquitoes."

"They're disgusting," Compton said.

"Not so!" Mildred was always ready to defend the underdog. "When I was in the second grade at Black Creek Elementary, our teacher had a bat in a cage, and we fed him bits of our lunch on the point of a pencil."

"They're filthy little monsters."