Lilian Jackson Braun - Cat 15 Who Went Into the Closet

"Stop at the office first to get a list of the issues. Deadline is twelve noon, so you'd better get hopping."

Fifteen minutes later, Qwilleran - unbreakfasted, unshaved, and only casually combed - reported to the newspaper office. Junior handed him a list. "Just tape the interview. We'll transcribe it."

"By the way," Qwilleran said, "I phoned Celia Robinson in Florida last night."

"Tell me about it later," the editor said as both phones on his desk started to ring.

George Breze was a one-man conglomerate who operated his sprawling empire from a shack on Sandpit Road, surrounded by rental trucks, mini-storage buildings, a do-it-yourself car wash, and junk cars waiting to be cannibalized. Usually there was merchandise for sale under a canvas canopy, such as pumpkins in October, Christmas trees in December, and sacks of sheep manure in the spring. His parking lot was always full on Saturday nights. Teens were admonished not to stop there on the way home from school.

Breze was one of two candidates opposing the incumbent mayor, the well-liked Gregory Blythe. On the way to interview him, Qwilleran stopped for breakfast at the Dimsdale Diner, where the number of pickups in the parking lot assured him that the coffee hour was in full swig. Inside the decrepit diner the usual bunch of men in feed caps gathered around a big table, smoking and shouting and laughing. They made room for Qwilleran after he had picked up two doughnuts and a mug of coffee at the counter.

"What's the latest weather report?" he asked.

"Heavy frost tonight," said a sheep rancher.

"Light snow later in the week," said a farm equipment dealer.

"The Big Snow is on the way," a trucker predicted."

"Who's our next mayor?" Qwilleran then asked.

"Blythe'll get in again. No contest," someone said. "He drinks a little, but who doesn't?"

"Do you see George Breze as a threat?"

The coffee drinkers erupted in vituperation, and the county agricultural agent said, "He's exactly what we need, a mayor with wide experience: loan shark, ticket fixer, ex-bootlegger, part-time bookie, tealeaf reader..."

The last triggered an explosion of laughter, and the group broke up.

Qwilleran caught the ear of the ag agent. "Do you know Gil Inchpot?"

"Sure do. He shipped out a week ago without harvesting his crop or fulfilling his contracts. He must've cracked up."

"Is there any chance of hiring fieldhands to dig his potatoes? The K Foundation has funds for economic emergencies."

"Don't know how you could swing it," said the agent, removing his cap to scratch his head. "Everybody's short of help, and they're racing to get their own crops in before frost."

"Inchpot always helped other people in a pinch," Qwilleran argued.

"That he did; I'll give him credit. Gimme time to think about it, Qwill, and pray it doesn't freeze tonight."

With this scant encouragement Qwilleran drove to the Breze campaign headquarters on Sand pit Road and found the candidate seated behind a scarred wooden desk in a ramshackle hut. He was wearing a blue nylon jacket and red feed cap.

"Come in! Come in! Sit down!" Breze shouted heartily, dusting off a chair with a rag he kept under his desk. "Glad you called before comin' so I could cancel my other appointments." He spoke in a loud, brisk voice. "Cuppa coffee?"

"No, thanks. I never drink when I'm working."

"What can I do you for?"

"Just answer a few questions, Mr. Breze." Qwilleran placed his tape recorder on the desk. "Why are you running for office?"

"I was born and brought up here. The town's been good to me. I owe it to the people," he answered promptly.

"Do you believe you'll be elected?"

"Absolutely! Everybody knows me and likes me. I went to school with 'em."

"What do you plan to accomplish if elected mayor?"

"I want to help the people with their problems and keep the streets clean. Clean streets are important."

"Would you favor light or heavy industry for economic development in Pickax?"

"Light or heavy, it don't matter. The important thing is to make jobs for the people and keep the streets clean."

"What do you think about the current controversy over sewers?"

"It'll straighten out. It always does," Breze said with a wave of the hand.

"There's talk about township annexation. Where do you stand on that issue?"

"I don't know about that. I don't think it's important. Jobs - that's what matters."

"Do you support the proposal to install parking meters in downtown Pickax?"

"Is that something new? I haven't heard about it. Free parking is best for the people."

"What do you think of the education system in Pickax?"

"Well, I went to school here, and I turned out all right." The candidate laughed lustily.

"Do you think the police department is doing a good job?"

"Absolutely! They're a good bunch of boys."

"In your opinion, what is the most important issue facing the city council?"

"That's hard to say. Myself, I'm gonna fight for clean streets."

Qwilleran thanked Breze for his cogent opinions and delivered the tape to the paper. "Here's my interview with the Great Populist," he told Junior.