The Cat Who Dropped a Bombshell

Bart said with enthusiasm, "The K Fund could publish a collection of the profiles. Do it, Qwill!"

There followed the dull business (for Qwilleran) of signing papers, making decisions, solving problems.

Then the attorney said, "Clients of mine have asked me to intercede for them in a request. Do you remember Mr. and Mrs. Ledfield, who paid three hundred dollars a ticket to attend a charity event here in the barn? Koko turned it into a fiasco that no one has forgotten."

"Don't remind me," Qwilleran said. "Ever since that debacle I've avoided opening this humble abode to sight-seers."

"Don't worry. What the Ledfields are asking won't bother Koko and might appeal to you. They have a nephew in California who is about to enter college as an architecture student. He says that the fame of this barn is known in architectural circles on the West Coast."

"Is that so?" Qwilleran remarked with a glimmer of interest.

"Their nephew would like permission to sketch the interior as part of his college entrance portfolio. As you know, many architects consider what you've done with the space to be an impossibility."

"I didn't do it. It was the work of a talented designer named Dennis Hough, who lacked the credentials to call himself an architect."

"You never told me, Qwill! Where is he now?"

"Where he'll qualify for the ?late greats' in the ?Qwill Pen' column . . . Okay, your clients' nephew can come and make sketches, as long as he gives full credit to the deceased designer. Incidentally, I've not seen any photographs that did justice to the interior. It will be interesting to know what draftsman's sketches can do with it."

Bart said, "On behalf of my clients, I thank you, and I'll see that you get a set of drawings.

"By the way, in case you want to see what the young man looks like, Mrs. Ledfield gave me a newspaper clipping with his picture, taken when he was a downhill ski racer. His major interest is skiing."

Qwilleran looked at the photo of an athletic-looking fellow dressed for snow, with a stocking cap pulled over shoulder-length hair. He said, "He'll have to cut his hair when he becomes an architect."

"Maybe yes, maybe no," Bart said. "Have you been to California lately?"

They discussed K Fund business while Koko sat on the table and watched closely. But when the attorney gathered up his papers to leave, the photo of Harvey Ledfield was missing. "His aunt wanted it returned," Bart said.

"It's probably mixed in with your papers," Qwilleran reassured him. He really thought otherwise! Koko had been hanging around with a mischievous glint in his eye!

After a lengthy career in journalism Qwilleran had his emotions under control when it came to personal events. He could be pleased, mildly moved, even enthusiastic, but never, never excited. After the attorney's visit he had to admit that he was excited about having the barn's interior sketched. He reminded himself that this young fellow was only a would-be student, not yet enrolled. And a draftsman's sketch was not the same as an artist's drawing. Still, he was too excited to wait until eleven PM to break the news to Polly in their nightly phone chat. He walked downtown.

With his oversize moustache and orange baseball cap he was recognized everywhere. "Hi, Mr. Q!" said pedestrians with faces wreathed in smiles. "How's Koko, Mr. Q?" To the men he gave a friendly salute; to women, a gracious bow, which would be described to family and friends. Qwilleran was not only the ?Qwill Pen' in person but the power behind the K Fund.

From the barnyard he walked through the evergreen woods, causing some flutterings of wings and scurrying in the underbrush, then across the parking lot of the theatre arts building and north on Main Street in the City of Stone, as the shopping centre was nicknamed. Behind the post office was the new bookstore, The Pirate's Chest, where Polly was enjoying her new career as manager.

He used his key to the side door, letting himself directly into the office. She was not there, but behind a folding screen Dundee, the bibliocat, could be heard scratching in his commode.

Soon Polly arrived. "Qwill! What a pleasant surprise! How does it feel to be able to walk downtown?"

"Invigorating! I'm really here to ask a question. . . . Do you know the Ledfields of Purple Point?"

"I know they're one of the ?fine old families' - very wealthy. Nathan is a collector. Doris was on my board of directors at the library - but not for long. She's rather frail. No children. Nathan's only brother and his wife were killed in a car accident out west not too long ago. Why do you ask?"

"The orphaned son, as I understand it, is coming here to visit his aunt and uncle and - you won't believe this - sketch the interior of my barn for a college-entrance portfolio."

"How very exciting," Polly said.

"Yes," Qwilleran said coolly, concealing his real feelings.