The Cat Who Dropped a Bombshell

"Nathan Ledfield in Purple Point has a private museum in a big addition at the back of his house. His old man started it - or maybe his granddad. Anyhow, he'll leave the collection to the city when he goes if we promise to provide a building for it. . . . Is there any more coffee in the pot?"

Qwilleran poured.

Koko turned abruptly and showed a sudden interest in Gil's pocket.

A moment later there was an odd noise in the pocket, and he reached in for a cell phone. "MacMurchie here . . . Hmmm . . . Yes, he's here. I'll tell him. Sorry to hear it, but we knew it was coming. Thanks for calling." He slipped the phone back into his pocket and said to Qwilleran, "Well! Well! Well! . . . Homer Tibbitt died this morning. Too bad he won't see the parade."

"Well! What can I say? He was a great man," Qwilleran said.

This was the day Qwilleran shopped for Polly's groceries and stowed them in the trunk of her car in the bookstore parking lot. But all the while he was thinking about the county historian emeritus. He would be one of the "Late Greats": the anecdotes he had told about his early life, the papers he had written for the historical collection at the public library, and the tales everyone had to tell about "The Grand Old Man," as he was known. There would never be another. . . . No doubt Homer's "young bride" could relate a few incidents. Rhoda was eighty when they were married a decade ago; neither had been married before. Together they bantered in true Moose County style and amused their friends.

His weekly shopping for Polly entitled him to dinner at her condo - a pick-up meal, she called it, since she had been working all day.

Tonight, Polly mentioned, "You and I are invited to view the parade from the second-floor windows of the department store."

"I hope you accepted," he said. "And Sunday afternoon is the first performance of the Fire Show on the stage of the opera house. I'll see that you get tickets."

"Oh, I'm so thrilled! I've seen it twice, but that was how many years ago? Will Hixie be handling the sound effects?"

"Yes, if I can get her to come down to earth for a rehearsal." And then he said, "Do you know a woman in Kennebeck who does hand knitting? Bart was wearing one of her sweaters yesterday, and it looked pretty good."

"She sings in the choir at our church. Would you like one of her sweaters? What did you have in mind? It can be your birthday present."

He protested, but not strongly.

Polly went on. "She's fairly young. She went from bride to widow in a few hours. Her husband was a lineman with the power company, and on the first day after their honeymoon he was killed by a falling tree while he was looking for downed wires. The shock affected her mind somehow; she developed second sight; she can predict calamities - like hurricanes, lightning strikes, and so forth. The doctors at the state hospital are interested in her case. I'll make an appointment for you!"

During the dessert course (some apple tarts baked by one of the bookstore's Green Smocks) Polly remembered the news from Purple Point:

"The Ledfields' nephew is coming for the Memorial Day weekend and bringing his fiancée! Doris and Nathan are delighted, having visions of the Ledfield name being continued."

"Did they mention the sketching of the barn?" Qwilleran asked, considering it of more importance than family bloodlines.

"Yes. The young man - I think his name is Harvey - said all he needs is an afternoon. Doris suggested Saturday afternoon, and I wanted her to call you and make the arrangements, but she's such a shrinking violet."

Qwilleran said, "I didn't know they had any of those on Purple Point."

Polly overlooked the pun. "She's a respector-of-persons and quite daunted by your connection with the K Fund and your ?Qwill Pen' column and your fierce moustache. Do you want to call her and confirm the date?"

"I wouldn't want to give the dear lady a heart attack," he said. "Why don't you call her and confirm it for Saturday afternoon? Then perhaps you and I could take the young couple to dinner at the Nutcracker Inn."

Polly said, "I think that's very gracious of you, Qwill."

"I'm only making sure I get a set of the sketches."

Then he brought up a subject that had long mystified him: Why do some persons live on Purple Point and others live in Purple Point?

The explanation: The long narrow peninsula extending into the lake was originally the location of shipyards where tall sailing ships were built, using 120-foot masts from the towering pine forests inland. When steamboats came in, the shipyards disappeared, and twentieth-century families built beach houses on the sandy peninsula. The occupants said they spent summers "on Purple Point." Around 1900, when fortunes were being made in mining and lumbering, wealthy families built mansions on the mainland within sight of the purplish haze that frequently shrouded the peninsula. They lived in the community of Purple Point.