Lilian Jackson Braun - Cat 15 Who Went Into the Closet

"If you're looking for excuses, I can't think of any." Junior said, "Here's a typical example of her thoughtlessness. Her ancestors were pioneer doctors here, and she inherited a beautiful black walnut box of surgical knives and saws and other instruments, all pre-Civil War. Why didn't she give them to the Museum of Local History, where they'd mean something? Instead she sold them with everything else."

"She was a selfish egocentric, that's all," said Jack.

"How about your grandfather?" Qwilleran asked. "What was he like?"

"Kind of jolly, although he wasn't around much."

"Our paternal grandmother was different," said Pug. "She wasn't rich, but she was warm and cuddly and loving."

"And she made the best fudge!" Jack added.

There was a nostalgic silence at the table until Qwilleran cleared his throat preparatory to introducing a sensitive subject. "If you're all left out of the will, who are the beneficiaries?"

The three young people looked at each other, and Junior said bitterly, "The Park of Pink Sunsets! They get everything - to build, equip, and maintain a health spa for the residents. She revised her will after she got to Florida."

Polly said, "It's not unusual for the elderly to forget family and friends and leave everything to strangers they meet in their final days. That's why wills are so often contested."

"Well, if it's any consolation," Qwilleran said in an effort to brighten the occasion, "Junior owns the contents of the locked closet in the library, which may be full of Grandpa Gage's gold coins and Grandma Gage's jewelry."

No one was amused, and Junior replied, "There's nothing in that closet but her private papers, and I'm instructed to burn them."

Then Jack said, "If anyone thinks we're sticking around for the memorial service tomorrow night, they can stuff it! We've changed our flight reservations."

"That hotel," Pug said, "is the worst I've ever experienced! I can't wait to get out of this tank town!"

Qwilleran said, "I think we should all have another drink and order dinner." He signaled for service.

"I second the motion," Junior said. "Enough gnashing of teeth! Let's enjoy our food, at least... How are your cats, Qwill?" To his sister and brother he explained, "Qwill has a couple of Siamese."

Polly said, "Qwill, dear, tell them about Koko and the cleaning closet."

He hesitated, trying to recollect the incident in all of its absurdity. "Well, you see, where I live in the summer, there's a closet for Mrs. Fulgrove's prodigious collection of waxes, polishes, detergents, spray bottles, and squirt cans."

"Is that woman still cleaning houses?" Pug asked. "I thought she'd be dead by now."

"She's still cleaning and still complaining about cat-hairs. I always leave the house to avoid her harangues. One day I came home after the dear lady had left and found the male cat missing! But the female was huddled in front of the cleaning closet, staring at the door handle. I yanked open the door, and out billowed a white cloud. It filled almost the whole closet, obliterating shelves, cans, and bottles. And above it all was Koko, sitting on the top shelf, looking nonchalant. Mrs. Fulgrove had accidentally shut him in the closet, and he had accidentally activated the can of foam carpet cleaner."

"Or purposely," Junior added. "I reported the story in my column, and the manufacturer sent me enough foam cleaner to do all the rugs in Moose County."

After that interlude, everyone was somewhat relaxed though not really happy, and Qwilleran was relieved when the meal came to an end. As the party was leaving, Junior handed him an envelope.

"Forgot to give you this, Qwill. It came to the office today, addressed to you."

It was a pink envelope with a Florida postmark and the official logo of the Park of Pink Sunsets. He slid it into his pocket.

On the way home to Goodwinter Boulevard, Qwilleran said to Polly, "Well, the mood at our table was not very favorable for the consumption of food. I apologize for involving you."

"It could hardly be called your fault, Qwill. How were you to know? The entire situation is regrettable."

"I don't suppose you want to attend the memorial service tomorrow night."

"I wouldn't miss it!" Polly's tone was more bitter than sweet.

Qwilleran dropped her off at her carriage house, saying he would pick her up the next evening. He was in a hurry to open the letter from Florida.

Sitting at his desk he slit the pink envelope - a chunky one with double postage - and out fell some snapshots as well as a note. Celia had remembered how to spell his name; that was in her favor.

Dear Mr. Qwilleran,

I enjoyed talking to you on the phone. Here are the snaps of Mrs. Gage with some other people from the park. We were on a bus trip. I'm the giddy-looking one in Mickey Mouse ears. That's Mr. Crocus with Mrs. Gage and a stone lion. Hope you can use some of these with the article you're writing.

Yours very truly,

Celia Robinson