Lilian Jackson Braun - Cat 18 Who Said Cheese

"Precisely why I'm buying your dinner tonight," Dwight said slyly. "Check this out for number ten: A complete makeup and hair styling at Brenda's Salon, prior to dinner at the Old Stone Mill with popular newspaper columnist, Qwill Qwilleran."

The popular columnist hemmed and hawed.

"You're an icon in these parts, Qwill - what with your talent, money, and moustache. Women will bid high to get you! Bidders would fight even to eat tuna casserole at the bombed-out hotel with the richest bachelor in northeast central United States. Fran Brodie will attract high-rollers, too. She's a professional charmer; the Paddock is self-consciously expensive; and the limousine will be driven by the president of the department store in a chauffeur's cap."

Qwilleran nodded with amusement. "That's Larry's favorite shtick. Where are you getting the limousine?"

"From the Dingleberry Brothers, provided they don't have an out-of-town funeral."

When the steaks arrived, Qwilleran had time to consider. Actually the adventure would be material for the "Qwill Pen." The twice-a-week stint was ceaselessly demanding, and readers were clamoring for three a week. Down Below, in a city of millions, it would be easy, but Moose County was a very small beat. Finally he said, "I hope we don't have to stand up in front of the audience like suspects in a police lineup."

"Nothing like that," Dwight assured him. "We've booked the high school auditorium, and there's a Green Room where the celebrities can sit and hear the proceedings on the PA. Onstage there'll be an enlarged photo of each celebrity, courtesy of Bushy. After each package is knocked down, the winner and celebrity will meet onstage and shake hands - amid applause, cheers, and screams, probably."

"I'm glad you explained all this, Dwight. It gives me time to disappear in the Peruvian mountains before auction night." He was merely goading his friend. Finally he said, "Let me congratulate you, Dwight, on your handling of Explo - and not just because you're buying my steak."

"Well, thanks, Qwill. It was a big job. Only one thing worries me. The timing of the explosion at the hotel could not have been worse; it gives 'Explo' a bad connotation. I can't help wondering if there's an element in the county that opposes our celebration of food. Nowadays we have anti-everything factions, but can you imagine anyone being anti-food?"

"The cranks are always with us," Qwilleran said, "hiding behind trees, peeking around corners, going about in disguise, and plotting their selfish little schemes."

When Qwilleran arrived home, it was dark, and the headlights of his car picked up a frantic cat in the kitchen window - leaping about wildly, clawing at the sash - his howls unheard through the glass. Qwilleran jumped from his car, rushed to the back door, and fumbled anxiously with the lock. In the kitchen, a single flick of the switch illuminated the main floor, and Koko flew to the lounge area. Qwilleran followed. There, on the carpet, Yum Yum appeared to be in convulsions, lashing out with all four legs, trying to turn herself inside out. Her tiny head was caught in one of the holes of the cheese basket. The more she fought the wicker noose, the greater her panic.

Qwilleran was in near-panic himself. He shouted her name and tried to grab her, but she was a slippery handful. Going down on his knees, he seized the basket with one hand and held it steady, at the risk of hurting her. With the other hand he captured her squirming flanks and squeezed her body between his knees. How could he withdraw her head without tearing her silky ears? It was impossible. Incredibly, she realized he was trying to help, and her body went limp. Murmuring words of assurance, he broke the strands of dry wicker with his free hand, one after the other, until her head could be freed from the trap.

She gulped a few times as he clutched her to his chest, massaged her ears, and called her his little sweetheart. "You gave us a scare," he said. After a few moments, Yum Yum wriggled out of his arms, licked a patch of fur on her breast, gave one tremendous shudder, and went to the kitchen for a drink of water.

8

On Sunday morning the church bells rang on Park Circle - the sonorous chimes of the Old Stone Church and the metallic echo of the Little Stone Church.

Earlier in the morning, Qwilleran had received a phone call from Carol Lanspeak, who lived in fashionable West Middle Hummock. She and Larry drove into town every Sunday with garden flowers for the larger, older, grander of the two places of worship. This time they were bringing a new couple to church, recently arrived from Down Below: J. Willard Carmichael and his wife, Danielle.

"He's the new president of Pickax People's Bank, a distinguished-looking man and a real live wire," Carol said. "His wife is much younger and a trifle - well - flashy.. But she's nice. It's a second marriage for him. I think you'd like to meet Willard, Qwill, and they're both dying to see your barn."