Lilian Jackson Braun - Cat 18 Who Said Cheese

"That, madame, is precisely why you are here," Qwilleran said in the declamatory style that always made her laugh.

"Okay. Shoot!" she said merrily. "First, a little background information: Have you heard of Iris Cobb? She died before you moved up here."

"Virginia talks about her. She made wonderful cookies."

"She contributed greatly to the community, but she's chiefly remembered for her cooking, Her collection of personal cooking secrets was left to me in her will, but it disappeared before I could put my hands on it."

"You don't cook, Chief! What good would it do?" "She also left me that pine wardrobe over there, a Pennsylvania German schrank, The cookbook, I think, was supposed to be a joke, but I planned to publish it and donate the proceeds to charity, in her name."

"That's pretty nice, Yes, I like that!" Celia said. "Any notion what happened to it?"

"There are three possibilities: It was in a piece of furniture that was sold to an out-of-state dealer when her apartment was liquidated. Or it was thrown out as junk, being a greasy, spotted, scuffed notebook with a broken spine and loose pages. Or it was simply stolen. A request for its return, with no questions asked, produced no results."

"Sounds like something I wouldn't mind reading myself," Celia said.

"You may get a chance. When I was in Mrs. Fetter's kitchen this afternoon, I noticed a battered black book among all the colorful jackets of slick new cookbooks. I didn't think too much of it at the time; I was concentrating on how to handle all the technical stuff on spawn and inoculation and incubation without boring my readers. Later, though, I remembered that the spine of the black book had been repaired with transparent tape. That's when my suspicions arose." He touched his moustache tentatively. "The next time you go to see Donald - if you do go, that is - you might sneak a peek. Could you manage that?"

"Could I! You know me, Chief! I'll go there with one of the junior trainees. Is there anything special I should look for, besides grease spots?"

"I don't imagine Iris ever put her name on it. If she did, no doubt it's been obliterated. But first you should look for almost illegible handwriting. Next you might look for certain recipes that made her a legend in her time, like butter pecan ginger snaps and lemon coconut squares. She also had a secret way with meatloaf and macaroni and cheese."

"Oh, this will be fun!" She rummaged in her large handbag for a notepad and made a few jottings. "If it turns out to be Mrs. Cobb's book, how will you go about getting it?"

"That's the difficulty. In a small town you don't send a cop with a search warrant and a court order to seize stolen property - especially when the suspect is a prominent woman who has a dinner date with the mayor... Although - off the record, Celia - the mayor himself has a few shadows falling across his illustrious past."

"Oh, this town is a hoot!" Celia squealed with laughter. "Somebody should write a book!... But look! It's getting dusk. I should get home before it's dark in the woods." She gathered up her large handbag and struggled to rise from the deep cushions of the sofa.

"Better check your handbag for stowaways," Qwilleran suggested, noticing that one cat was missing from the top of the fireplace cube. He escorted her to her car and then returned to check out the Siamese. Yum Yum had jumped down from the cube and was doing extravagant stretching exercises. Koko was sitting in front of the refrigerator, staring at the door handle. Inside, the frozen turkey was still hard as a rock.

The next morning a delegation arrived at the barn on official business. They were there to discuss arrangements for the cheese-tasting party: the two men from Sip'n'Nibble, who were catering the event; Hixie Rice as volunteer publicist; Carol Lanspeak and Susan Exbridge, representing the Country Club. The male-dominated service organization had recently voted to allow women members to serve on committees.

"Not because they were suddenly conscious of women's rights," Susan explained dryly, "but because they need help with their projects."

"So true!" Carol said.

Jerry Sip and Jack Nibble, who had never seen the barn before, were overwhelmed by its size and rustic contemporary magnificence. The main floor was a hundred feet across, minus the space occupied by the fireplace cube, and living areas on all sides of the cube were roomy, to say the least.

"This is some place!" Jack said, "We can handle a hundred people here without a hitch. We'll have the punch bowls on the dining table and set up two eight-foot folding tables on either side - for the cheese service. With white tablecloths, of course."