Lilian Jackson Braun - Cat 15 Who Went Into the Closet

Koko had been moving closer to the phone and was now breathing heavily into the mouthpiece. Qwilleran pushed him away. "Did Mrs. Gage enjoy gambling or just the excitement of the races?"

"Well, she seemed to get an awful big kick out of winning. Of course, people never tell you when they lose."

"Very true," he agreed. "By the way, she was a very wealthy woman. Did she give that impression?"

"She didn't talk big, but she was kind of high-toned, and her mobile home was a double-wide. I guessed she had plenty stashed away."

"Had she changed in any way since moving into the park? Was her mind still keen?"

"Oh, she was very sharp! She always knew what she wanted to do - and how to do it - and she did it! She sometimes said 'teapot' when she meant 'lamp shade,' but we all do that around here. I'm beginning to say 'left' when I mean 'right.' Clayton says it's something in the water in Florida," she said with a giggle.

Qwilleran cleared his throat, signifying an important question: "Were you aware that she drew up a new will after moving to the park?"

"Well, she never talked about anything like that - not to me, anyway - but I told her about this fellow - this lawyer-who does work for the Sunsetters for very reasonable fees. He did my will for only twenty- five dollars, and it was all tied up with red ribbon and red wax. Very professional! Of course, it was a simple will; I'm leaving everything to Clayton - not that I have much to leave."

"Yow!" said Koko.

"I hear my master's voice," Qwilleran said. "Good night, Celia. Thank you again for the snapshots, and give my regards to the thirteen-year-old doctor."

Her merry laughter was still pealing when he hung up. He arranged the snapshots in rows and studied them. Koko was purring loudly, and Qwilleran let him pass his nose over the glossy surfaces. Once again the long pink tongue flicked at two of the prints - the same two that had attracted him before. Qwilleran smoothed his moustache in deep thought; the cat never licked, sniffed, or scratched anything without a reason.

It snowed that night. There was a breathless stillness in the atmosphere as large, wet flakes fell gently, clinging to tree branches, evergreen shrubs, porch railings, and the lintels of hundreds of windows.

Pickax, known as the City of Stone, was transformed into the City of Marshmallow Creme.

It was a good day to stay indoors and putter, Qwilleran decided after breakfasting on strong coffee and warmed-up rolls. He rummaged through the collection of Gage memorabilia that was accumulating in the desk drawer. The relics defined Grandpa Gage as a bon vivant, who smoked cigars, drank wine, collected women's garters, and liked the feel of money. There was a piece of Confederate money, and there were two large dollar bills of the kind issued before 1929. A pearl-handled buttonhook dated back to the days of high-button shoes. There was an old ivory pawn from a chess set that may have belonged to Euphonia's studious father-in-law.

Koko's excavations were not entirely scientific; they included a small, dry wishbone and a racy postcard from Paris.

By afternoon the snow had stopped falling, and Qwilleran was tempted to drive out into the countryside and enjoy the fresh snow scene. He would take his camera. He would also check the church in Brrr where Hixie had scheduled the next performance of "The Big Burning." Phoning the number listed for the Brrr Community Church, he was assured that someone would meet him there. He dressed in heavy jacket, boots, and wool cap and was saying goodbye to the Siamese when Koko staged one of his eloquent demonstrations, jumping at the handle of the back door and muttering under his breath.

"Okay, this is your last ride of the season," Qwilleran told him. He started the car and ran the heater for a few minutes before carrying the cat coop out and placing it on the backseat.

The Moose County landscape - with its flat farmland, abandoned mine sites, and rows of utility poles - could be bleak in November, but today it was a picture in black and white. The plows were operating on the major highways, sending plumes of snow ten feet high. Even the town of Brrr, with its undistinguished architecture, looked like an enchanted village.

The church was a modest frame building with a cupola; it might have been a one-room schoolhouse except for the arched windows. As soon as Qwilleran pulled up to the curb, the front door opened and a woman came out to greet him, bundled up in a parka with the hood tied securely under her chin.

"Mr. Qwilleran, I'm Donna Sims. I was watching for you. Come in out of the cold, but don't expect to get warm. The furnace is out of order."

Qwilleran threw a blanket over the cat coop and followed the woman into the building. The vestibule was a small one, with a few steps leading up to the place of worship and a few steps leading down to a spick-and-span basement. Its concrete floor was freshly painted brick red, and its concrete block walls were painted white.