Lilian Jackson Braun - Cat 15 Who Went Into the Closet

Spreading the snapshots on the desk, Qwilleran found the diminutive Euphonia neatly dressed in a lavender pantsuit and wide-brimmed hat, while her companions sported T-shirts with the Pink Sunset logo splashed across the front. Also conservatively dressed in tropical whites was an old man with a shock of white hair; he and the stone lion could have passed for brothers. The Siamese, always interested in something new, were on the desktop, sitting comfortably on their briskets and idly observing. Then, apparently without provocation, Koko rose to his feet with a guttural monosyllable and sniffed the pictures. There was something about the glossy surface of photographs that always attracted him. Studiously he passed his nose over every one of the Florida pictures and flicked his tongue at a couple of them.

"No!" Qwilleran said sharply, worrying about the chemicals used in processing.

"Yow!" Koko retorted in a scolding tone of his own and then left the room. Yum Yum trailed after him without so much as a backward look at the man whose lap she so frequently commandeered.

An uneasy feeling crept across Qwilleran's upper lip, and he patted his moustache as he examined the snapshots the cat had licked. Sandpaper tongue and potent saliva had left rough spots on the surface. In both of them Euphonia looked happy and pert, posed with a yellow sports car in one shot and with the Pink Sunset tour bus in the other. More important than the damage, however, was the realization that two of her companions looked vaguely familiar. He had no idea who they were or where he had met them or under what circumstances.

-10-

THURSDAY WAS BRIGHT and clear, although Wetherby Goode reminded his listeners that November was the month of the Big Snow, a threat that annually hung over the heads of Moose County residents like a Damoclean icicle.

Qwilleran said to Koko, "Would you like to take a walk? This may be your last chance before snow flies. I'll get the leash."

Yum Yum, whose vocabulary included the word "leash," immediately disappeared, but Koko purred and rolled on his side while the harness was being buckled around his middle. Then, on the back porch, he checked out the spots where the nefarious Oh Jay had left his scent. Next, he led the way down the back steps to a paved area where the last few leaves of autumn were waiting to be pawed, batted, chased, and chewed. While Koko was enjoying these simple pleasures, Qwilleran became aware of a familiar figure scrambling through the shrubs on the lot line.

"If you're looking for Oh Jay," he said to the attorney's son, "he's not here."

It appeared, however, that this was a social call. "It's gonna snow," Timmie said.

"So they say," Qwilleran replied, making no attempt to continue the conversation.

The boy looked critically at Koko. "Why is he so skinny?"

"He's not skinny. He's a Siamese."

"Oh." This was followed by a pause, then: "I can stand on my head."

"Good for you!"

There was another long pause as Timmie spread his arms wide and balanced on one leg. Finally he said, "You should marry the lady that lives in the back. Then you could live in one house, and she wouldn't have to take out the trash."

"Why don't you go and stand on your head?" Qwilleran asked.

"We're gonna move."

"What?"

"We're gonna move away from here."

"I sincerely hope you're planning to take Oh Jay with you."

"I'm gonna go to a new school and ride the school bus and have fun with the kids."

"Why do you want to leave a nice neighborhood like this?"

"My dad says some dumb fool bought the house."

"Excuse me," Qwilleran said. "I have to make a phone call." He hurried up the back steps, pulling a reluctant cat.

Ringing Junior at the office he said, "Have you heard the news? Another house on the boulevard has been sold. Pender Wilmotts. That makes two of them, side by side. What do you make of that?"

"Who bought it?" Junior demanded with suspicion. "Was it the realtor in Chicago?"

"My six-year-old informant wasn't specific."

"I hope this doesn't turn out to be anything detrimental to the neighborhood, like one of those cults or a front for something illegal."

"You don't need to worry about anything like that - not in Pickax," Qwilleran assured him, "but I admit it piques the curiosity... Well, get back to work. I'll see you tonight at the memorial service. Do you know why it's being held at the theatre instead of the Old Stone Church?"

"That's the way she wanted it, and Grandma never did anything in the ordinary way."

The K Theatre, converted from the former Klingenschoen mansion, shared the Park Circle with the public library, courthouse, and two churches. Shortly before eight o'clock on Thursday evening, more than a hundred residents of Moose County converged on the theatre, their expressions ranging from respectful to avidly curious. In dress they were less sweatery than usual, denoting the solemnity of the occasion.