The Cat Who Dropped a Bombshell

Actually, Qwilleran knew more about the couple than he could use in a column, but he felt comfortable with them.

"Sign me up for a Saturday afternoon visit, Thorn," he said. "And by the way, I sent a young couple down to the art centre Saturday, and they bought one of your bowls for a gift. I hear you mesmerized them with some of your tall tales."

"I don't know about that, but they said they were visiting the Ledfields in Purple Point, so I completed their education."

One morning Qwilleran said to the attentive Siamese, "Your uncle George is coming again. Do your ablutions before he gets here, and don't forget to wash behind your ears."

"Uncle George" was G. Allen Barter, the attorney. To Qwilleran he was "Bart" - more of a pun than most persons realized.

When Bart arrived, the four trooped into the dining room, single file, ready for business.

The attorney said, "I searched my briefcase backwards and forward for that news photo of Harvey Ledfield. So did my wife, who has an eagle eye. Today is her birthday, by the way, and I'm taking her to dinner at the Boulder House Inn - just the two of us."

From a pencil holder Qwilleran plucked a fat yellow lead pencil stamped "Qwill Pen" in gold. "Give her this - with my birthday wishes, Bart."

"She'll be ecstatic! She's won three pens in your reader competitions, and she displays them like silver trophies."

Qwilleran said, "You married a Gemini, you lucky dog! That means she's not only eagle-eyed but strong, kind, talented, smart, physically attractive--"

"How do you know all this esoteric guff?"

With a feigned show of modesty Qwilleran said, "I happen to be a Gemini myself."

"I should have suspected one of your sly tricks! . . . What are those photos?" He pointed toward two eight-by-ten glossies.

"Oh, those!" Qwilleran said casually. "When I took my guests to dinner at the Nutcracker Inn on Saturday night, there happened to be a news photographer in the lobby, and he made shots of my party and the guest of honor, solo. You might like to give them to Harvey's aunt to replace the missing news clipping."

"Very kind of you, Qwill. And how did the sketching go?"

"He seemed to be impressed. His fiancée is charming. They walked down the lane to the art centre and bought a turned-wood bowl for Harvey's aunt. It's a work of art - but a far cry from the silver-and-porcelain bowls she probably has in her collection."

With an abrupt change of mood the attorney said, "I had a call from one of their secretaries this morning, canceling their appointment. Both Mr. and Mrs. Ledfield are ?indisposed.' Allergy symptoms."

"How many secretaries do they have?" Qwilleran interrupted.

"One to handle their financial undertakings, which are extensive, and one to handle their collectibles."

Qwilleran said, "I hope their condition is nothing serious."

"My wife calls this area Pollen Paradise. Every second person you meet has a red nose, red eyes, and a box of tissues. One would think the Ledfields, having lived here for three generations, would know how to deal with pollen."

Qwilleran thought, There were questions that could be asked, but attorneys don't talk about their clients, especially to a newspaperman.

Uncle George changed the subject. "How did the cats react to having an architectural draftsman in their private domain?"

"Yum Yum stayed out of sight, but Koko surprised us all with his interest in the operation. . . . And, by the way, Bart, someone was telling me that the Ledfields are bequeathing their historical collections to Moose County for the establishment of a museum - provided the county erects a suitable building. Is that a fact?"

"It's in the will, but I don't see it happening in the foreseeable future. The Ledfields appear to be long-lived. Nathan's father lived to be eighty and his grandfather ninety."

"But that was before freeway fatalities, plane crashes, and deranged snipers," Qwilleran said. "Not to mention [he added whimsically] a new strain of hay fever imported from Outer Space."

"Yow!" Koko interrupted petulantly. His noontime snack was behind schedule.

"Meeting adjourned," the attorney said as he stuffed papers into his briefcase.

Chapter 7

On Friday morning, as Qwilleran was preparing their breakfast, the cats huddled on top of the bar, waiting for the sideshow. They liked to be entertained, and he liked an audience. On this occasion he recited from his collection of limericks:

I live with a pair of Siamese

Who think they can do whatever they please.

They subsist on steak

And truffles and cake

And lobster and six kinds of cheese.

Two furry bodies bolted from the bar top and chased each other up and down the ramp - twice. There was something about the rhyme and rhythm of limericks and other homely verses that pricked their psyche and teed off a mad race.