Lilian Jackson Braun - Cat 18 Who Said Cheese

"Don't worry, Arch. No one will claim it, but it's large enough to put a lot of sleuths on the trail. I'm betting that the guilty person will mail the cookbook anonymously to the P.O. box, rather than be exposed."

Qwilleran circulated, listening and looking for ideas. He was always the columnist, always on duty, always hoping for material to fill the space on page two above the fold. What he heard was mostly small talk:

Don Exbridge: "It's never safe to recommend a restaurant. If you do, the chef quits the next day, the management replaces him with a hash-slinger, and your friends think you have a tin palate."

Larry Lanspeak: "Has anyone been to the Boulder House Inn? The chef grows his own herbs and knows how to cook vegetables-with a bone in them."

Carol Lanspeak: "Qwill, there's a fuchsia silk blouse at the store that Polly would love - scarf neck, drop shoulder. In fact, I've laid one aside in her size. If you want me to, I'll gift-wrap it and drop it off here."

Pender Wilmot: "Who's interested in starting a gourmet club? I'm taking applications."

Arch Riker: "Deal us in - but not if it's just another dinner club where you talk about the national deficit while you're eating. I want to learn something about food and wine."

Mildred Riker: "Someone has said that food worth eating is worth talking about."

Qwilleran: "Would this be a club for gourmands, gourmets, or gastronomes?"

Don Exbridge: "Get the dictionary, somebody!"

Dr. Diane: "How would it work? Would we flock around to restaurants? Or would we have to cook?"

Willard Carmichael: "In Detroit we belonged to a hands-on group. The host planned the menu and prepared the entree. Other members were assigned to bring the other courses. Recipes were provided - all unusual, but not freaky. No fried grasshoppers."

Danielle Carmichael: "You had to follow the recipe exactly or pay a forfeit - like running the dishwasher or paying for the wine."

Qwilleran: "I'll join if I can be permanent dishwasher."

Amanda Goodwinter: "Don't put my name on the list. The last time I attended a gourmet dinner, I had indigestion for a month!"

The evening wore on, with much consumption of cheese and the amber-colored punch. Voices grew louder. A few couples started to leave. Suddenly there was a commotion in the kitchen-a thumping and growling, followed by a shattering crash! Conversations stopped abruptly, and Qwilleran rushed to the scene. Koko was having a cat fit. He raced around the kitchen in a frenzy, flinging himself at the refrigerator.

When Qwilleran tried to intervene, the cat leaped over the bar and crashed into a lamp, sending the shade and the base flying in opposite directions. Women screamed and men yelled as he zipped around the fireplace cube and headed for the cheese tables.

"Stop him!" Qwilleran shouted as the cat skidded through the cheese platters and scattered crumbs of Roquefort, cubes of Cheddar, slices of Gouda, and gobs of runny Brie, before leaping to the punch table and knocking over the lighted candles.

"Fire!" someone shouted. Qwilleran dashed to a closet for a fire extinguisher, at the same time bellowing, "Grab him! Grab him!"

Three men tore after the mad cat as he streaked around the fireplace cube with fur flying. Pender, Larry, and Big Mac tore after him, bumping into the furniture and each other. Around and around they went.

"Somebody go the other way!" Somebody did, but the trapped animal only sailed to the top of the cube and looked down on his pursuers.

"We've got him!" A moment later Koko swooped over their heads and pelted up the ramp, not stopping until he reached the roof, where he perched on a beam and licked his fur.

Qwilleran was embarrassed. "My apologies! The cat went berserk! I don't know why."

"He drank some of Jerry's amber punch," Big Mac suggested.

Truthfully, Koko wanted everyone to go home, Qwilleran suspected, leaving him unlimited access to the cheese tables.

The guests were understanding but decided it was time to think about leaving. The dinner jackets on Larry, Pender, and Big Mac looked more like gray fur than black wool. A few cat hairs might have been an annoyance, but a million cat hairs - thanks to the amber punch - made it a joke. It was a merry crowd that boarded the jitneys, twelve at a time, for the ride back to the parking lot, and the students cleaning up the mess grinned to each other; it was the best thing that would happen all semester.

The Sip'n'Nibble partners were philosophical. Jerry said, "Don't feel bad about it, Qwill. There's nothing like a minor catastrophe to make a party a success. They'll talk about this for the rest of the century."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

"I just hope they mention the name of our store," Jack added, "including the address and telephone number."

Carol said, "It was really funny to see three adult males chasing a little cat in a cloud of flying fur! I wonder if Koko has any left. It was better than a car chase! Aren't we lucky that Bushy got it on tape? We'll sell loads of videos."