The Cat Who Had 60 Whiskers

“Not too drastic,” the attorney assured him. “Alma Lee has been named director of the museum. That involves training museum guides as well as supervising maintenance of the building. Daisy Babcock will act as her assistant, since the finances will be handled by an investment counselor appointed by the county.”

“Then I should see Miss James for a tour of the Old Manse,” Qwilleran assumed.

“Yes, either she or Miss Babcock can show you around…. If you’ll pardon a little in-house gossip: Daisy Babcock resents being demoted to second-in-command. When Nathan Ledfield was boss, Daisy was his fair-haired girl! I wouldn’t be surprised if she quits. She’s married to one of the Linguini sons but uses her maiden name.”

“Wise choice,” Qwilleran murmured, reflecting that “Daisy Linguini” would be a fetching name for a trapeze performer but not so good for a financial secretary to a billionaire.

Qwilleran asked, “Are those the Linguinis who had the wonderful Italian restaurant?” It was a mom-and-pop operation. If a customer was having a birthday, Papa Linguini would come out of the kitchen in his chef’s hat, get down on one knee, fling his arms wide, and sing Happy B-ir-r-rthday in an operatic voice. “Apparently they retired.”

“Yes, and their sons preferred to open a party store and plant a vineyard. They also want to open a winery, but the neighbors along the shore are objecting.”

Before he left, Bart said, “About visiting the Old Manse: Either of the women could show you around and answer your questions, but it might be politic to work with Alma James. Let me break the ice for you. I know she’s been dying to see your barn—”

“Half the Western world has been wanting to see my barn. That’s okay. How do we go about it?”

“I could drive her over someday, then ease her out if she wants to stay too long.”

“Does she like cats?” Qwilleran asked. “Koko has been known to react to ailurophobes in peculiar ways.”

“She’s from Lockmaster and is more accustomed to dogs and horses.”

“I could put Koko and Yum Yum out in the gazebo.”

“No! No!” said Bart, a confirmed ailurophile. “It’s their barn! Let her adjust. If she begins to itch or sneeze, she won’t want to stay so long.”

Qwilleran, detecting a lack of enthusiasm on the attorney’s part, asked, “How do you size up the two women in charge of the Manse?”

“Daisy is always relaxed and friendly. Alma—I never liked that name—is warm or cold, agreeable or reserved, depending on her mood…. You’ll have to excuse me; I grew up with an aunt called Alma, and she let her sons break my toys and squirt me with water pistols.”

That was what Qwilleran liked about Bart—he was human andhonest.

On his way out, the attorney said, “I almost forgot. My daughter asks a favor. She’s making a survey and would like you to write two words on an index card.” He drew a card and a pen from his pocket. “You writecat on one side of the card anddog on the other…. Sign your initials.”

Qwilleran wrotedog on the first side in proper penmanship. On the reverse side he dashed offcat in a flamboyant script, crossing thet with a bar an inch long.

“I thank you. My daughter thanks you. She’s quite serious about this study—her own idea—although it will never be published.”

“How old is she?” Qwilleran asked.

“Nine going on fifteen. Next summer she wants to extend the survey to Lockmaster,” he said, raising parental eyebrows.

Qwilleran found his copy ofMosses from an Old Manse and scanned it for references that might be linked with the mansion in Purple Point.

That night Qwilleran wrote in his journal:

Monday—I thought I had Koko all figured out. He knows when the phone is going to ring!

But today he knew Uncle George was coming from the county buildingbefore the guy had announced his intentions. What about the biscatti in the briefcase? Did Koko know about that, too?

I sound crazy, and and sometimes I feel I’m slipping over the edge.

What I mean is: It’s pretty well established that Koko (a) knows what’s going to happen. Does he also (b)make things happen ?

I won’t go that far, but I admit he puts ideas in my head. That’s nothing new; Christopher Smart knew that a few centuries ago.

But why does Yum Yum’s buddy have more on the ball than most felines? I still say it’s because he has sixty whiskers! Regardless of what Dr. Connie says and what the scientific literature says, I still maintain my opinion.

How far am I prepared to go?

Perhaps I’d better pipe down? They’ll start counting my own whiskers. That would be a joke! Koko transmits, and I receive!

Qwilleran mused whimsically. What an investigative team we’d make!…Koko’s whiskers transmitting inside information—and my moustache receiving the data.

FOUR