Lilian Jackson Braun - Cat 18 Who Said Cheese

Fran Brodie muttered to Qwilleran, "Wouldn't you know the mayor would have the chutzpa to wear a dinner jacket and paisley cummerbund? You're dressed just right, Qwill! If I were in the audience, I'd bid a month's commissions on you. Danielle Carmichael was in the studio yesterday, looking at wallpaper. They're both here tonight. Willard is going to bid on me, and she's going to bid on you, although he won't let her go over a thousand."

"Have you heard any more about the shooting?"

"Only that they know what kind of handgun was used, but it happened less than twenty-four hours ago. Give them a break!"

At that point, Pender Wilmot of the Boosters Club arrived in the Green Room to brief the somewhat nervous celebrities. "Packages will be auctioned in the order that appears in the printed program. Foxy Fred will open the bidding with a suggested starting price. If the bids start low, don't worry; he's a master at milking the audience. When your package is knocked down, the winner will come to the platform, and you'll walk out to meet your dinner date. Relax and have fun. It's all for a good cause."

Foxy Fred banged the gavel, and the bidding commenced. The mayor's package-dinner at the Purple Point Boat Club-was knocked down for $750, and the woman he went onstage to meet was Elaine Fetter-widow, champion volunteer, gourmet cook, and grower of mushrooms.

Fran whispered to Qwilleran, "She's been running after the mayor ever since she lost her husband. She lives in West Middle Hummock. I did her house. She has a fabulous kitchen."

Her own package - dinner at the Palomino Paddock - brought $1,000 from Dr. Prelligate. After meeting him onstage, she said breathlessly to Qwilleran, "He's not at all like a college president; he's quite sexy! I wonder what I should wear for the dinner."

"Maybe you can get a decorating job out of it," he suggested. "Find out if he likes blue."

After Derek Cuttlebrink's motorcycle cook-out brought $325 amid screams from his young adherents in the audience, Jennifer Olsen was heard to complain in the Green Room, 'That's unfair! Those girls pooled their money and drew straws. A hairdresser won, and she had hundreds of dollars to bid. Nobody will have nearly that much to bid on me."

The pretty young actress stopped pouting, however, when her all-you-can-eat package brought $400. She went onstage in a state of shock to meet her dinner date, and the others in the Green Room heard her shriek "Dad!"

"That's parental love!" declared Dr. Diane backstage. "Poor Mr. Olsen will have to eat the Hot Spot's ghastly food and sit through two hours of ear-blasting rock. He'll be at the clinic Monday morning, complaining of deafness and heartburn."

Qwilleran's package - a complete makeup and hair styling, followed by dinner at the Old Stone Mill - was the last to go on the block. While other packages had been greeted with murmurs of interest and a few youthful shrieks, this one brought a storm of clapping, cheering, and stamping of feet.

Foxy Fred shouted, "Who wants to have dinner with a famous journalist?" He had been instructed not to mention money or moustache. "Shall we start with five hundred? Who'll give me five hundred?... Five hundred do I see?... I hear four hundred. No money! Go back to the hills... Who'll make it four-fifty?"

"Hep!" shouted a spotter, pointing at a flashcard.

"Four-fifty I've got. Make it five-fifty. Do I see five-fifty?"

"Hep!"

"That's the ticket! Now we're rollin'. Who'll bid six-fifty? Waddala waddala bidda waddala... Six-fifty I've got. Make it seven! Seven hundred for a thousand-dollar dinner date!... Who'll make it seven?"

"Hep!"

"Make it eight! Chance of a lifetime, folks!... I see eight in the back row. Do I see nine? Waddala waddala bidda waddala bidda bidda... Nine I've got over there at the left. Make it a thou! Let's hear from the heavy artillery! Dinner date you'll never forget!... A thousand I've got! Who'll bid twelve hundred?.. Twelve I've got from the lady in the back row! Make it fifteen! Fifteen? Fourteen is bid. Make it fifteen! Where's that card in the back row?"

Qwilleran and Fran exchanged anxious glances. Had Danielle exceeded her thousand-dollar cap? He passed a hand ruefully over his warm face.

"Do I hear fifteen? Shoot the works! Don't lose him now! Make it fifteen!"

"Hep!"

"Fifteen is bid! Who'll go sixteen? Sixteen? Sixteen?... Fifteen once, fifteen twice!" The gavel banged down. "Sold for fifteen hundred to the lady back there with number 134. Don't faint, ma'am! The red jackets will escort you to the stage."

Qwilleran said, "Oh, God! Who can it be?" A list flashed into his mind: women who had been pestering him for the last five years... women who could afford fifteen hundred dollars... women he liked... women he didn't like. If only Polly could have been in the audience! They could have rigged it: She'd bid; he'd pay.