Lilian Jackson Braun - Cat 15 Who Went Into the Closet

He immediately phoned Arch Riker at home in Indian Village. Without preliminaries he announced, "Your new vice president is in the hospital, and your star columnist is a candidate for an oxygen tent."

"What happened to her, for God's sake?"

"The power failed where we were giving our show, and she fell off the stage, probably because she was frozen stiff. The furnace was out of order. Fortunately there was a doctor in the house. He had her moved to Pickax. I don't know the nature or extent of the injury. The robot on the telephone isn't giving out any information."

"Our night desk will find out," Riker said. "I hate to sound crass, Qwill, but what will this do to our show schedule?"

"I have a substitute lined up. I told her you'd reimburse her, so be prepared to sign some checks, and don't be parsimonious."

"Who is it? Anyone I know?"

"Nancy Fincher, daughter of the potato farmer whose body was found last week."

Riker said, "I'll bet he was growing something besides potatoes."

"I don't know about that," Qwilleran said, "but it appears that he broke up his daughter's marriage to a deputy sheriff. How about that for a suggestive situation?"

"Don't waste your time sleuthing, Qwill. You always get off the track when you're playing detective."

Qwilleran ignored the advice. "And what were you doing tonight? Romancing Mildred?"

"We had dinner at Tipsy's and talked about her apartment in town and my condo here in the Village and her cottage at the beach. The apartment's gotta go, but we may build an addition to the cottage."

"Don't!" Qwilleran warned, speaking from experience.

"By the way, the Lanspeaks want us to have the wedding at their place on Purple Point, Christmas Eve."

"Excuse me a moment, Arch." He was sitting with his arms on the desk, and Koko was digging in the crook of his elbow. "What's your problem?" he asked the cat. "You're wearing out my sweater sleeve!"

Both cats liked to knead before settling down to sleep, but Koko was working industriously. At the sharp rebuke he jumped off the desk and went to the locked closet, where he rattled the door handle.

Turning back to the phone Qwilleran explained, "Koko wants me to pick the lock on the library closet."

"I wish you took orders from your editor-in-chief the way you take orders from that cat! Hang up! I'll call the night desk about Hixie's accident."

The next morning Qwilleran phoned the hospital and learned that the patient was receiving treatment; no further information was available. It was noon when he finally reached the patient herself.

"Hixie! How are you? We're all worried about you! What's the diagnosis?"

With her usual debonair flourish she replied, "Broken foot! But I've met this perfectly wonderful Dr. Herbert! He drove me to the Brrr hospital and stayed while they X-rayed and put on a soft cast. Then he drove me down here, where they have an orthopedic surgeon. Dr. Herbert is adorable, Qwill! He cares! He has a cabin cruiser! And he's not married!"

"You sound cheerful," Qwilleran said, "but how are you from the ankle down?"

"C'est si bon! And the food! I'm sitting here with a delectable bowl of seafood chowder on my lunch tray.

They have a gourmet dietician who's fantastique! I expect a split of champagne on my dinner tray."

"Okay, I'll. drop in to see you this afternoon. Now get back to your chowder while it's hot."

"Hot? I never said it was hot! This is a hospital, mon ami!"

When Qwilleran visited her a few hours later, he found her in a private room with soft pink walls, sitting in an arm chair with her foot elevated and encased in a bright pink cast.

"Chic, n'est-ce pas?" she said. "Casts now come in five decorator colors, and I thought the hot pink would coordinate with the walls."

"Never mind the color scheme. What did the surgeon say?"

"I have a displaced fracture of the metacarpus. Doesn't that sound exotic?"

"Do you have any pain?"

"Watch your language, Qwill. Four-letter words aren't allowed in the hospital. We don't feel pain; we don't hurt; we only experience discomfort. Fortunately I have a high discomfort threshold."

"How long will you be in a cast?"

"Six weeks, but when Dr. Herbert found out I live alone in a second-floor walk-up in Indian Village, he insisted that I stay with his mother in Pickax for a while. In a couple of weeks I can go into the office with a walker."

"I'll drive you," Qwilleran offered.

"But what about the show? Who'll be your engineer?

Perhaps Arch will let you have Wilfred."

"I have someone prettier than Wilfred. Don't worry about it, Hixie. Meanwhile, is there anything you need?"

"No, thanks. Just keep your fingers crossed that get out of the hospital before the Big Snow."

Qwilleran started to leave but remembered the snapshots in his pocket. "Did you ever meet Euphonia Gage?"

"No, but I saw her around town - in her eighties and walking like a young girl!"

"I have pictures of her taken in Florida, and some of her friends look familiar. You may recognize them."