Lilian Jackson Braun - Cat 15 Who Went Into the Closet

"A work of art," Qwilleran declared. "Now let's meet your family."

The dogs anticipated their coming. Puppies in a fenced yard were racing and wrestling and jumping for joy. The adults raised a high-decibel clamor that Nancy quieted with a secret word. They were lean, handsome, high-waisted, long-legged animals in assorted colors and markings, with slanted blue eyes that gave them a sweet expression.

"These two are the lead dogs, Terry and Jerry. They're the captains, very brainy. Spunky and Chris are the wheel dogs, right in front of the sled."

Both Qwilleran and Nancy turned as a police vehicle pulled into the yard. It was a sheriff's car, and an officer in a wide-brimmed hat stepped out.

She shouted, "Hi, Dan! This is Mr. Qwilleran from the newspaper."

Qwilleran, recognizing the deputy's reticent and almost sullen attitude, said, "I believe we've met. You rescued me after a blizzard a couple of years ago."

The deputy nodded.

"Mr. Qwilleran is going to write up my dog team, Dan."

"But we'll hold the story until after snow flies. I'll work on it and call if I have any more questions... Beautiful animals. Interesting sport. Good interview." He moved toward his car.

"You don't have to leave," she protested.

"I have to go home and feed the cats," he explained, making an excuse that was always accepted.

Nancy accompanied him to his car. "Gary says you're living in Mrs. Gage's big house."

"That's right. I'm renting it from Junior Goodwinter, her grandson." He noticed a flicker in her eyes, which he attributed to memories of the high school prom, but it was something else.

"I've been in that house many times," she said. "It's huge!"

"Did you know Mrs. Gage?"

"Did I! My mother was her housekeeper for years and years. Every year Mom took me there for Christmas cookies and hot chocolate, and Mrs. Gage always gave me a present."

"That was gracious of her," Qwilleran said. "What did you think of her?"

"Well, she didn't fuss over me, but she was... nice."

Now he had one more adjective to describe the enigmatic Euphonia Gage, and another reason to call Florida and quiz her talkative neighbor.

"Do you like apples?" he asked Nancy before leaving. He handed her a brown paper bag.

Back at the mansion he submitted to the Siamese Sniff Test. After an afternoon with Corky and twenty-seven Siberian huskies, he rated minus-zero. Their investigation was cut short by a ringing telephone.

"Hey, Qwill!" said an excited Junior Goodwinter. "Can you stand some good news?"

"It's a boy," Qwilleran guessed.

"No, nothing like that; Jody's still here, getting antsy. But somebody wants to buy the Gage mansion! I just got a long distance phone call!

"Congratulations! Who's making the offer?"

"A realtor in Chicago."

"Is it a good offer?"

"Very good! What do you suppose it means? The house wasn't even listed for sale. And why should they pick mine when there are seven for-sale signs on the street? I'll bet Grandma Gage tipped someone off before she died."

"Don't ask questions," Qwilleran advised. "Take the money and run."

"I'm going to tell them it's rented until spring, so don't worry about having to move out, Qwill."

"I appreciate that. And let's not tell Polly until the deal's closed. She'll be upset about losing the carriage house."

"Okay, I won't. Golly! This is the best news I've had since I-don't-know-when."

"Good things come in threes," Qwilleran said. "Maybe Jody will have twins. By the way, was there a woman in the Gage family by the name of Cynara?"

"I don't think so. How do you spell it?"

"Like the poem: C-y-n-a-r-a."

"Nope. Doesn't ring a bell."

At a suitable hour - late enough for the fifty-percent discount but not too late for a Pink Sunset resident - Qwilleran placed a call to Florida, and Koko leaped to the desk in anticipation. "Arrange your optic fibers," Qwilleran advised him. "This may be enlightening." The cat's whiskers and eyebrows curved forward.

When a woman's cheery voice answered, he asked in a rich and ingratiating tone, "May I speak with Celia Robinson?"

There was a trill of laughter. "I know it's you, Clayton. You can't fool your old grandmother. Does your mother know you're calling?"

"I'm afraid I'm not Clayton. I'm a colleague of Junior Goodwinter, Mrs. Gage's grandson. I'm calling from Pickax. My name is Jim Qwilleran."

She hooted with delight tinged with embarrassment. "Oh, I thought you were my prankish grandson, changing his voice. He's a great one for playing practical jokes. What did you say your name was?"

"Jim Qwilleran. Junior gave me your number."

"Yes, he was here for a few days. He's a nice boy. And I know all about you. Mrs. Gage showed me the articles you write for the paper. What's the name of the paper?"

"The Moose County Something."

"I knew it was a funny name, but I couldn't remember. And I loved your picture! You have a wonderful moustache. You remind me of someone on TV."