The Cat Who Had 60 Whiskers

Joe said, “I should have him do a portrait of my father—a horseradish farmer with a moustache and glasses. He looked like Teddy Roosevelt.”

Qwilleran accompanied the women to their units and went in to say hello to the new cat on the block.

Barbara owned one of Moira MacDiarmid’s cats. “Or he owns me. He’s in the deepest tawny tone like a molasses cookie, so I named him Molasses, and he seems to like it.”

Qwilleran noted that his markings, tilted over one eye, gave him the jaunty look of a soldier.

He sang an old military tune: “There’s something about Molasses, there’s something about Molasses, there’s something about Molasses that is fine, fine, fine.”

Molasses fell over sideways—an expression of approval, Barbara said.

When he returned to the barn, the Siamese greeted him with that reproachful stare that meant their bedtime snack was late.

That evening, instead of waiting for the call that never came, Qwilleran made one of his own—to Wetherby Goode. “Joe. Great party! Great music!”

“Yeah, you can always tell when old Betsey has been tuned. I pound the ivories so hard, she has to be tuned four times a year. It has something to do with the felts and the hammers. Don’t ask me what!”

“Really? Who does it?”

“Young guy in Lockmaster.”

Qwilleran asked, “Would Dr. Feltzanhammer make a good story for the Qwill Pen?”

“I don’t know. He’s young and kind of shy. But he’s likable.”

“I’ll give it a try. Before interviewing anyone on an esoteric subject, I read all about it in the encyclopedia, so I know what questions to ask and what he’s talking about. What are felts and hammers? My mother was a brilliant pianist, and she never mentioned felts and hammers.”

“By the way, it was the piano tuner’s girlfriend who was killed by a bee sting at the Old Manse.”

At that moment, Koko interrupted with a gut-wrenching howl.

“What was that all about?” Joe asked.

“Koko wants the lights turned out.”

Qwilleran knew better. It was the cat’s death howl. It meant wrongful death.

SIXTEEN

In spite of the ups and downs of his current life, Qwilleran had the steadying influence of home and workplace: feeding the cats twice a day and writing the Qwill Pen twice a week. Filling the thousand-word hole on page two kept him alert for ideas.

The morning after Joe’s party, Qwilleran was feeding the cats when he received an unexpected phone call from Rhoda Tibbitt.

“Qwill, I hope I’m not calling too early. I have exciting news. I’ve discovered the answer to the Brown Paper Bag Mystery! I was preparing Homer’s suits to give to charity, the way he wanted, and I found some little brown paper bags in the pockets! And two of them contained tiny flasks.” She paused for breath—or effect. “I tasted the contents: One of them still had…black breakfast tea! And the other had the afternoon tea that Homer liked. Lapsang souchong!”

Qwilleran said, “Don’t say a word to anyone! They’re talking about a refreshment stand for the lobby of the auditorium, something with class…and I’m going to suggest the Homer Tibbitt Tearoom!…But don’t explain, and neither will I. We’ll keep Homer’s secret.”

Qwilleran had an opportunity to use his privileged information from Rhoda Tibbitt when he called on Daisy Babcock in the refurbished auditorium. He complimented her on the metamorphosis of the building, and she praised his book review. There were daisies from Fredo on her desk—and a daisy wallpaper on the wall above a gray dado.

She said, “We’ve been thinking about a refreshment stand on the main floor—not a hangout for kids but something more civilized.”

“How about a Homer Tibbitt Tearoom?”

“Qwill. You come up with the best impromptu ideas!”

A chart on the wall gave the status of local projects. The Old Manse Museum of Art and Antiques was open two days a week with trained guides—twenty dollars a ticket—and people coming from all over the country—even Europe. She then added, “But they won’t go into the garden. They’ve all heard about the danger of bee stings.”

“Have you had any more trouble?” he asked.

She shook her head and looked sad.

Also on the chart were the following:

Senior Health Club—Ready next year.

Wildlife museum—Buildings finished/mounted

animals and art being moved in.

There was a photo of the Ledfields on Daisy’s desk, and Qwilleran said, “Handsome couple. I never met them, but their efforts for child welfare alone were commendable.”

Daisy said, “That’s because they were childless and regretful. Bringing busloads of kids from Pickax Schools to view the mounted animals gave Nathan great pleasure. He would be thrilled to know that we’re erecting two buildings downtown and the city is renaming the Old Back Road the Ledfield Highway.”

Catsmusical—Now being rehearsed.

Qwilleran asked, “How are theCats rehearsals progressing? Is Frankie still the accompanist? Who’s turning Frankie’s pages?”