The Cat Who Dropped a Bombshell

Polly said, "Now about Vicki. She's not staying as long as she planned. She starts a new job Tuesday morning, and she wants to get home to help her kitten adjust and prepare herself for a new work challenge. So she'll have to miss The Big Burning and Monday's parade."

Polly said, "Vicki was sorry she couldn't stay to meet you, Qwill, but she left a note for you."

It was an unusual shade of gray, with her monogram in white on the envelope flap. It was apparently something she had written before leaving home. He slipped it into his coat pocket.

Late Saturday evening, as Qwilleran was considering a bedtime read for the cats, Koko was more interested in the kitchen window than the bookshelf. He kept jumping on the kitchen counter and staring at the blackness outdoors.

"Expecting someone?" he asked. Then he realized how long it had been since Andrew Brodie had dropped in for a nightcap. He phoned the police chief at home, and in five minutes the big burly Scot was barging into the kitchen demanding, "Where's my smart cat? Where's my little sweetheart?" He dropped on a stool at the snack bar where Qwilleran had prepared a tray of Scotch, ice cubes, and cheese.

The Siamese frisked about, happy to see him: Andy usually maneuvered a few crumbs of cheese to them.

To Qwilleran he said, "Been listening to Joe on the air. That storm that's been stalled over Canada has started moving across the lakes. It might reach us by tomorrow and eliminate our parade on Monday."

"We can hardly complain," Qwilleran said. "We've had a spectacularly good summer."

"It's a pity, though. Our granddaughter is supposed to be on the Queen's float, and my wife is cutting a truckload of peonies in our backyard for the parade."

"Joe has been wrong before, Andy."

"Yeah, but . . . What kind of cheese is this? It's good!"

"It's domestic. Not all the good stuff comes from Switzerland and France. How's everything at City Hall, Andy? Who's watering the pansies?"

"Ach, mon! We haven't had trouble with the vandals all summer."

"Do you know that woman in Kennebeck who sees into the future, Andy?"

"She goes to our church. A fine woman. She saw the shooting as a crime, not an accident, but that doesn't hold up in court."

Qwilleran could have told him about Koko's death howl, signifying foul play, but as evidence it lacked credibility, to say the least.

Suddenly Koko emerged from somewhere and hopped up to the kitchen window, where he stared out with ears alert and tail pointed.

Both men turned to look at the dark glass.

In a minute or two, they heard a muffled blast and saw a bright flash in the dark sky.

Brodie jumped to his feet, talked on his cell phone, hurried to the door. "Crazies! Firebombed the window boxes at city hall!"

He rushed to his vehicle leaving Qwilleran to reflect: the anti-pansy faction! . . . Too bad. Another idea of Hixie's ruined but she won't give up!

Only then did it dawn on Qwilleran that Koko had been staring out the window into the blackness for half an hour - before the blast.

That cat! Qwilleran thought. He looks like a cat, walks like a cat, talks like a cat, but he knows what's going to happen - like that woman in Kennebeck. Is it because he has sixty whiskers instead of the normal forty-eight?

Baffled, he scooped himself a dish of ice cream.

Chapter 16

Early Sunday morning, two surprised Siamese were stuffed into their cat carrier and loaded into the SUV along with luggage, a food cooler, "Qwill Pen" notes, and desk clutter. Qwilleran had brought the outdoor furniture in from the gazebo and stacked it in the foyer, and Pat O'Dell's maintenance crew would disassemble the gazebo screens and otherwise storm proof the barn for a short absence.

They were moving to their condo in Indian Village, which was in a strip of four, called the Willows and shared with Polly, Wetherby Goode, and Dr. Connie, the veterinarian.

When the refugees from the barn arrived, the village management had already shuttered the large glass window walls and sandbagged the banks of the creek that they overlooked.

Eliminating the view made for a gloomy interior, but Qwilleran could read and the cats could sleep and Wetherby would find excuses for parties.

This would be the first time the connecting doors between the underground garages had ever been used.

Qwilleran notified Wetherby when he arrived. Then they joined Dr. Connie and Polly at the weatherman's unit for an impromptu lunch.

As they waited for the wind and rain to strike, conversation about the weather was avoided.

Polly talked about the success of the "violet" book. Qwilleran said he'd like to write a biography of the late Homer Tibbitt. Connie talked about her new marmalade cat, a litter mate of Dundee. The host played the piano.