Lilian Jackson Braun - Cat 15 Who Went Into the Closet

"No way," she said. "They were only poor dirt farmers. Not everybody in Lockmaster is a rich horse breeder... Well, anyway, Mr. Qwilleran, I wanted to thank you and wish you a happy Thanksgiving. I'm spending it with Dan Fincher's relatives, and I'll take the kids for dogsled rides after dinner. What are you going to do?"

"Polly Duncan is roasting a turkey, and there'll be another couple, and we'll all eat too much."

"N-n-now!" shrieked Yum Yum.

It was a thankful foursome that gathered in Polly's apartment, thankful to be free after a week of confinement. The aroma of turkey was driving Bootsie to distraction, and the aroma of Mildred's mince pie, still warm from the oven, was having much the same effect on Qwilleran.

Arch Riker said, "The local pundits are saying that a Big Snow before Thanksgiving means mild weather before Christmas."

Mildred said, "I'd like to propose some ground rules. for today's dinner. Anyone who mentions the Big Snow has to wash the dishes."

"What are we allowed to discuss?"

"For starters, Hixie Rice. How is she?"

"She came to the office once this week," Riker said. "Qwill drove her, and Wilfred met her at the curb with her desk chair and wheeled her into the building. She clomps around with a walker and something called a surgical boot."

"How is her substitute working out for the show, Qwill?"

"Not bad," he replied with an offhand shrug, careful not to praise too highly the petite young woman with soulful eyes.

Mildred said, "Your show has prompted a family history program in the schools. Kids are interviewing their grandparents and great-grandparents about the Depression, World War II, and Vietnam."

"Oh sure, we're sharpening their interest in history," Qwilleran said sourly as he drew a sheaf of papers from his sweater pocket. "At Black Creek School they had to write capsule reviews of the show. Would I you like to hear a few of them?"

Riker said, "They'd be easier to take if I had a Scotch in my hand."

Drinks were poured, and then Qwilleran read the comments from sixth graders: "I liked the show because we got out of class.... I liked the red light best... It was interesting but not so interesting that it was boring... My favorite part was where the guy got his arm burned off... It was better than sitting in English and learning... The man did most of the play. The woman should have more to do and not just sit there and push buttons."

"That's the spirit!" Mildred said.

He saved the rave review for the last: "It's neat how you came up with all that stuff. I would never know how to look it all up. Don't change it at all, no matter what. I'd like to see it go all over."

Riker said, "Sign that kid up! We could use a good drama critic."

Qwilleran omitted mentioning the spitball that sailed past his ear during the performance at Black Creek.

Polly carved the bird, pacifying Bootsie with some giblets, and the four sat down to the traditional feast. "Beautiful bird!" they all agreed. In deference to Mildred the bird was never identified; there had been a star-crossed turkey farmer in her painful past.

"Now let's discuss the wedding," Polly suggested. "What are the plans so far?"

The bride-to-be said, "It'll be at the Lanspeaks' house on Purple Point, and we're all invited to stay for the three-day weekend."

Riker said, "It's black tie, Qwill, so dust off your tux."

"Black tie!" Qwilleran echoed in dismay.

"Didn't you buy a formal outfit for that weekend in Lockmaster?"

"Yes, but I never had a chance to wear it, and do you know where it. is now? My dinner jacket, cummerbund, expensive shirt, three-hundred-dollar evening pumps - they're all in a closet in my barn, behind twenty feet of snow, at the end of a half mile of unplowed driveway."

"You can rent an outfit," Riker said calmly, "but what will you do about your cats? I believe they're not invited."

Polly said, "My sister-in-law will come over twice a day to feed Koko and Yum Yum as well as Bootsie."

Everyone had seconds of the bird and the squash puree with cashews. Then the aromatic mince pie was consumed and praised, and coffee was poured, during which the telephone rang.

Polly answered and said, "It's for you, Qwill."

"Who knows I'm here?" he wondered aloud.

It was Hixie. "I hate to bother you, Qwill. Are you in the middle of dinner?"

"That's all right. We've finished."

"Carol Lanspeak just called. We have a problem." "What kind of problem?"

"Larry was scheduled to play Santa in the parade on Saturday, and he's on the verge of pneumonia," Hixie said anxiously. "Carol and I wondered if you would substitute."

"You're not serious."

"I'm not only serious, I'm desperate! When Carol gave me the news, my foot started to throb again."

Scowling and huffing into his moustache, Qwilleran

was alarmingly silent.

"Qwill, have you fainted? I know it's not your choice of role, but - "

"What would it entail?" he asked in a grouchy monotone.

"First of all, you'll have to try on Larry's Santa suit. It's in the costume department at the theatre."