Lilian Jackson Braun - Cat 18 Who Said Cheese

Qwilleran huffed into his moustache. Her statement was not true. Koko had sensed the situation. He had tried in his catly way to communicate. He started stalking Yum Yum. He drove her crazy. One might think they were playing games. Cats go through phases; they invent new games and then tire of them. But Koko also developed a sudden interest in Stalking the Wild Asparagus. Wild coincidence - or what? Was it a coincidence that Koko lost interest in Euell Gibbons and stopped stalking Yum Yum after Onoosh revealed her plight in a frantic letter? Was it a coincidence that Koko howled at the exact moment that Franklin Pickett was shot? Or that he chewed up Lenny's pledge card when the biker was in danger? Or that he campaigned for a ride to the beach on the very afternoon that the mystery woman was trespassing there? And how about the many times Koko pushed A Taste of Honey off the bookshelf?

Polly broke into his reverie. "You're pensive, dear."

"I was thinking... that these pears could use some chocolate syrup."

"There's a rumor that we're getting a Mediterranean restaurant. Do you think Pickax is ready for such exotic fare?"

"They'll like it," he predicted, "especially the meatballs in little green kimonos."

After dinner they joined the other guests around a roaring blaze in the stone fireplace and listened to the innkeeper relating the history of the building. During Prohibition it had been headquarters for rum-runners ferrying whiskey from Canada. There were tales of subterranean chambers with sealed doors and Federal agents who mysteriously disappeared. Hollow footsteps were sometimes heard in the night and apparitions hovered outside the windows.

"Pleasant dreams, everyone!" Qwilleran said, standing up. "We're going for a walk in the moonlight."

It was indeed a moonlit night, highlighting the surf that broke on the beach and giving the craggy inn an eerie otherness. Polly was tired, however. It had been an exciting day; she had walked a great deal; she was still in an early-to-bed hospital mode.

They retired to their rooms. Polly left a window open in order to hear the crashing of the surf. Qwilleran, after replacing a 40-watt light bulb with a 70-watt that he always carried in his luggage, sat up reading. It was quiet - unnaturally quiet - in that fortress of massive boulders, until... he heard a scream!

He rushed into Polly's room. She was sitting in bed, petrified and speechless. In her bed was a large gray cat.

"Easy, Polly! Easy!" he said soothingly as he grabbed the gray hulk. "It's only Dumbo. He climbed up the side of the building. He was looking for a warm bed." Qwilleran put the cat out on the wide sill and closed the window.

"I was sleeping soundly," Polly said. "It was a terrible scare-to wake and see that animal in my bed. I'm still shaking."

"Come and sit with me for a while," he said gently. "Curl up on my sofa. Calm down. I'll read to you."

In the breakfast room on Sunday morning, Qwilleran was in a playful mood, and Polly giggled at all his quips. Their waitress had a spectacular hairdo that looked, he muttered to Polly, like a bale of barbed wire. To the young woman he said, with a show of wonder and admiration, "I like your hair! It's different!"

She beamed with pleasure.

"You must have it done by a very good professional."

"No, I do it myself," she said modestly.

"Remarkable! It must take a long time and a great deal of skill and patience."

Polly was suppressing her mirth with difficulty, while kicking him under the table, but the waitress was overwhelmed. She brought extra muffins, extra butter, and extra preserves to their table, as well as an endless supply of coffee.

After another walk on the beach, they checked out. Monday would be Polly's first day at the library after several weeks of medical leave. She wanted to get herself together and switch roles - from convalescent to boss-lady, as the young clerks called her.

On the way home, they stopped at Indian Village. Since apartment leases stipulated no pets, Polly had bought a condominium. It was a two-story unit, and, Bootsie would have stairs for exercise and a small screened porch for bird-watching. Under consideration was the possibility of acquiring a companion for him.

As they neared Pickax, both of them enjoying the comfortable silence of a happy couple, Polly startled Qwilleran by saying, "Qwill, have you been keeping a big secret from me?"

A dozen possibilities flashed through his mind. "What do you mean? Give me a clue."

"Well, there's a woman in Lynette's bridge club who does the bookkeeping for Scottie's Men's Store, and she says you've just been billed for a tailor-made kilt in the Mackintosh tartan."