Lilian Jackson Braun - Cat 15 Who Went Into the Closet

"Way back, maybe forty years ago," Junior said. "Before leaving for Florida she asked me to videotape one of her dances. Yikes! It was embarrassing, Qwill - this woman in her eighties, in filmy draperies, cavorting around the ballroom like a woodland nymph. She was limber enough, and still kind of graceful, but I felt like a voyeur."

"What happened to the video?"

"She took it to Florida. Do you think she plays it on a VCR and dreams old dreams?"

"It's not a bad idea," Qwilleran said. "When I'm her age I'd like to watch myself sliding into first base."

"I saw you talking to Pender Wilmot. How did he like the show?"

"He was quite enthusiastic. By the way, Junior, I'm surprised your grandmother doesn't take her legal work to Hasselrich Bennett & Barter."

"They're too stuffy for her taste. She likes younger people. She feels young herself. It's my guess that she'll outlive us all... Well, it looks like everyone's leaving. Sure was a success! I can't believe, Qwill, that you did all those voices yourself!"

Only a few members of the hungry and thirsty press remained to drain the two punch bowls. They mixed the contents of both and declared it tasted like varnish, but good!

Qwilleran said to Hixie, "Did you see the guy in a suit and tie? He was with a blonde - the only ones not in sweaters."

"That was a wig she was wearing," Hixie informed him. "Who were they?"

"That's what I was going to ask you."

"I say they were spies from the Lockmaster Ledger;" she said. "They steal all our good ideas. Do you suppose she had a tape recorder under that big wig? I'm glad we copyrighted the script; we can sue."

Arch Riker and Mildred Hanstable were almost the last to leave. The publisher was beaming. "Great job, you two kids! Best PR stunt we could spring on this kind of community!"

"Thanks, boss," said Qwilleran. "I'll expect a raise."

"You'll be fired if you don't start writing your column again. The readers are screaming for your pellucid prose on page two. Consider your vacation over as of tomorrow."

"Vacation! I've been working like a dog on this show! And I haven't seen anything that looks like a bonus!"

This sparring between the two old friends was a perpetual game, since the Moose County Something was backed financially by the Klingenschoen Foundation, established by Qwilleran to dispose of his unwanted millions.

Riker drove Mildred home, and Qwilleran told Polly he would escort her to her carriage house in the rear. "I'll be right back," he told the Siamese, who were loitering nearby and beaming questioning looks in his direction.

"I've missed you, dear," Polly said as they walked briskly hand in hand through the chill October evening. "I thought I had lost my Most Favored Woman status. Bootsie missed you, too."

"Sure," Qwilleran replied testily. He and Polly's macho Siamese had been engaged in a cold war ever since Bootsie was a kitten.

"Would you like to come upstairs for some real food and a cup of coffee?"

Qwilleran said he wouldn't mind going up for a few minutes. When he came down two hours later, he walked slowly despite the falling temperature, reflecting that he was happier than he had ever been in his entire life-not that the pursuit of happiness had concerned him in his earlier years. What mattered then was the excitement of covering breaking news, working all night to meet a deadline, moving from city to city for new challenges, hanging out at press clubs, and not caring about money. Now he was experiencing something totally different: the contentment of living in a small town, writing for a small newspaper, loving an intelligent woman of his own age, living with two companionable cats. And, to cap it all, he was on the stage again! Not since college days, when he played Tom in "The Glass Menagerie," had he known the satisfaction of creating a character and bringing that character to life for an audience.

At the side door of the mansion he was greeted by the scolding yowls and switching tails of two indignant Siamese, whose evening repast was late.

"My apologies," he said as he gave them a crunchy snack. "The pressure is off now, and we'll get back to normal. You've been very understanding and cooperative. How would you like a read after I've turned out the lights? The electric bill is going to be astronomical."

Despite his affluence, Qwilleran was frugal about utilities. Now he went from room to room through the great house, flipping off switches. The Siamese accompanied him, pursuing their own special interests. In one of the large front bedrooms upstairs he noticed a closet door ajar and a horizontal brown tail disappearing within. Minutes later, Koko caught up with him and dropped something at his feet.

"Thank you," Qwilleran said courteously as he picked up a purple ribbon bow and dropped it in his sweater pocket. To himself he said, If Euphonia's theory is true, Koko sensed a source of energy. Cats, he had been told, are attracted to sources of energy.