Lilian Jackson Braun - Cat 18 Who Said Cheese

The electronic chimes of the Little Stone Church clanged their somber summons on Monday morning as hundreds of mourners flocked to the memorial service for Anna Marie Toms. Many were strangers. It was Moose County custom to attend funerals, for whatever reason: sympathy for the survivors, neighborly compassion, curiosity, grim sociability, or just something to talk about all week. Qwilleran walked to the Park Circle to see what was happening. The traffic jam was more than the local police could handle, and state troopers were assisting.

The crowd overflowed the church. Onlookers clustered on adjoining lawns and filled the circular park that divided Main Street into northbound and southbound lanes. Among them were persons that Qwilleran thought he identified as plainclothes detectives from the SBI. He also noticed a misplaced apostrophe in signs carried by Anna Marie's fellow students from Moose County Community College.

ANNA MARIE WE LUV YA

LENNY WER'E WITH Y A

He had his camera and took snapshots to show Polly. A detective asked for his identification. Photographers from the Moose County Something and the Lockmaster Ledger were busy. The afternoon papers would carry their first coverage of the Friday bombing, and they would go all out.

From there Qwilleran walked downtown to the newspaper office and handed in his Tuesday copy. He said to Junior Goodwinter, "I saw Roger and Bushy at the memorial service. The Ledger was covering it, too."

"Yeah, we're giving it the works. But, do you know what? You'll never believe this, Qwill. Franklin Pickett, the florist, was in here an hour ago, trying to make a deal. He's the one who sold the flowers to the bombing suspect, and he wanted us to buy his story! I told him no thanks and suggested he try the Ledger!" The young managing editor exploded with laughter. "I even gave him the address. I told him to ask for the editor in charge of checkbook journalism. He wrote it all down."

"You have a wicked sense of humor," Qwilleran said. "Well, the Ledger is always dumping their rejects on us, you know. They sent us the guy with the talking pig - right after we'd carpeted the city room! Everyone knows how pigs are!"

Qwilleran chuckled at the recollection. "So... what are you doing on the front page, Junior?"

"Police releases are minimal, as usual, but we've got man-on-the-street stuff, photos, and a computer sketch of the suspect based on witnesses' descriptions and supplied by the SBI. He's a white, fortyish, clean-shaven male, Qwill, so that lets you off the hook."

"Thanks. I was worried."

"Then we've got a sidebar on the history of the hotel, courtesy of good old Homer. Jill is at the memorial service right now, trying to get a sappy feature story. Roger went to the hospital, hoping to get an interview with Gustav Limburger, but the old crab threw a bedpan at him. Roger also contacted the realty firm in Lockmaster that manages the hotel, but they weren't talking to the media."

"What about the mystery woman? Wasn't her room the target?"

"Yeah. Ona Dolman, her name is. At least, that's the way she registered. She's skipped, though. Left without checking out. Didn't have any luggage to come back for, that's for sure. Owes for five nights. Ona Dolman is also the name she used at the car rental and the library and on traveler's checks. There's no evidence that she used a credit card or personal checks anywhere... So we've been busy! How did you spend your weekend?"

"Just scrounging material for my column. Did you talk to any hotel employees?"

"We buttonholed Lenny at the scene, but the police wouldn't let him talk. The chef was chummy with Ona Dolman, according to one of the waitresses. After the blast he picked himself up off the floor, grabbed his knives, and took off! Probably went back to Fall River, Massachusetts. Sounds as if he knows something about Dolman that the rest of us don't know. Anyway, the police will be checking him out. Frankly, I hope he stays in Fall River."

After talking with Junior, Qwilleran made the rounds of the newspaper offices, where his twice-weekly visits were always welcomed as if he were handing out ten-dollar bills. He wanted to have words with Arch Riker, but the publisher was still at lunch. His secretary, Wilfred, said, "He's been gone a couple of hours, so he should be back soon. Are you sponsoring anybody in the bike-a-thon, Mr. Q?"

"If you're riding, I'm sponsoring. I always back a winner," Qwilleran said as he signed a green pledge card for a dollar a mile.