The Cat Who Dropped a Bombshell

"Koko disgraced himself, but the evening was a financial success for a good cause."

Maggie said, "Nathan called it the best fund-raiser he'd ever attended - and he'd gladly pay to see it again."

When Quilleran left he was carrying a leather case of recordings to play on the barn system. He stowed them in the trunk of his car.

Having declined Maggie's offer of "a nice cup of tea," he went instead to Lois's Luncheonette, where he could get a wicked cup of coffee and listen to the gossip. He called it "taking the public pulse."

He found the place in an uproar. Every chair at every table was filled. All the customers were talking at once - about the Ledfields - the murders . . . the family scandal - and the Ledfields' will. Especially the will! Who would inherit? How much? The possibility that the fortune might be going out of state. Everyone seemed to have a cousin or father-in-law whose wife knew the Ledfields' housekeeper or whose uncle was their window washer.

Qwilleran drank his coffee while standing at the cash register, then walked to the office of HBB&A, hoping Allen Barter would be at his desk. He was.

"What brings you out, Qwill?"

"I've been hearing strange rumours about the Ledfield bequests. Do I have to wait for tomorrow's newspaper?"

"Sit down and I'll fill you in. It's very simple. An old intermediate school will become the Ledfield Music Centre, offering private lessons, classes, recitals, et cetera, all under the supervision of Uncle Louie MacLeod. . . . The Ledfield wildlife collection will be moved to a downtown site convenient for classes of schoolchildren. . . . The Old Manse will become a museum of art and antiques, with guided tours conducted by volunteers trained as guides, and with a respectable admission charge to discourage gawkers. Nathan envisioned it as an educational experience for visitors."

"Sounds good," Qwilleran said. "There are rumours that some of the fortune is going out of state."

"You've been hanging around the coffee shops, Qwill."

Next, Qwilleran left his car in the parking lot and walked to the newspaper. "Just touching base," he said to the managing editor.

"We'll be back to normal tomorrow," Junior said. "Will you have your usual ?Qwill Pen' for Friday?"

"I'll write a ?Late Great' on the Ledfields."

"The terms of the will are scheduled to run tomorrow. It could be quite a sensation. The Ledfields go back to the nineteenth century, when mine owners made fortunes and there was no income tax. And they've had a century to invest it, so you know they were loaded. Whether they're leaving it to Moose County remains to be seen. . . . We're printing a large run tomorrow."

In the days that followed, Qwilleran's neighbours in the Village assumed he would stay there for the winter, since he had gone to the trouble of moving from the barn.

True, he had many friends there, and there were numerous activities in the clubhouse, but it could not compare with the barn for livability. The acoustics were magnificent, and he had a collection of the Ledfields' CDs waiting to be played. Altogether it was an odd situation. The barn made good country living in the city in the summer, and the condo made good city living in the country in winter.

Qwilleran pondered his options as he watched the cats gobble their dinner.

He asked, "Which shall it be, Koko? Stay here till spring . . . or move back to the barn now?"

Koko swallowed, made a few dental passes with his tongue and said "Yow-w-w" loud and clear!

And so, Qwilleran and the Siamese moved back to the barn - with its vast interior spaces, its balconies and ramps, its incredible acoustics.

Upon arrival, the cats first checked the bowls and plates (his and hers) under the kitchen table - then their private quarters on the third balcony. Yum Yum found her silver thimble. Koko remembered his new hobby: He dropped from a balcony railing, like a bombshell, into a cushiony sofa.

Pickax was glorying in its good fortune.

First, a former intermediate school was acquired for a music centre, where young people could take piano or voice lessons from teachers commuting from Lockmaster. The high-school band could practice there without annoying the neighbours. Uncle Louis organized a choral club, and there was talk about staging a production of The Mikado.

Then an abandoned warehouse was adapted as a wildlife museum, and the Ledfields' mounted birds and beasts were exhibited in realistic settings created by the theatre club's set designer.

As for the Old Manse, it adapted well to a museum of art and antiques. Volunteers from the best families were trained as guides. There were fresh flowers in every room . . . the score of Chopin's Polonaise Brillante was open on Doris's Steinway grand and on Nathan's music rack (his Stradivarius was locked up).

A preview of the mansion was being planned for those willing to pay five hundred dollars for a ticket. Guides would conduct them.