THE CAT WHO SAW STARS_

She followed him down the sandladder and along the shore to Koko’s excavation. “How’d you find it?”

“Just walking on the beach.”

She examined the hole. “Looks like some animal’s been digging.”

“It seems so, doesn’t it?”

Unhooking her phone, she called the state police post, and Qwilleran said he would go back to the cabin and direct whoever responded.

In the next half-hour the clearing filled with vehicles. Qwilleran met each one and pointed to the sandladder; otherwise, he stayed out of sight.

First, the state police car with two officers. Second, the ambulance of the rescue squad.

They had shovels and a stretcher.

Then, another sheriff’s car with two passengers in the backseat. Magnus and Doris Hawley were escorted down the sandladder by the deputy.

Soon, the helicopter from Pickax, landing on the hard flat sand near the water. That would be the medical examiner, Qwilleran presumed.

Unexpectedly, a blue pickup delivering the railroad tie and copper sculpture. “Hey, what’s goin’ on here?” Kenneth asked.

“A simulated rescue drill. My responsibility is to keep the driveway open. So just drop the stuff and I go back down the drive.”

“Hey, this is cool! How old is this cabin?”

“I don’t know,” Qwilleran said. “I’ll take the sculpture. You take the tie around to the lakeside and put it on the screened porch. I’ll lead the way.”

With some prodding, Kenneth positioned the tie in the northwest comer of the porch. “Hey, some view you got here!”

“Yes. This way out…”

“Are those… cats?”

“Yes. Come on, Kenneth. This drill is being timed to the split second… On the double!”

Qwilleran packed him off down the driveway, just as the deputy escorted the Hawleys up the sandladder. Qwilleran ducked indoors. They drove away. Then the ambulance left. The helicopter lifted off, taking a blue body bag on a stretcher. When the state troopers drove away, only Deputy Greenleaf remained, and Qwilleran went out to size her up. Though not bad looking, she was stony-faced, a mask that seemed to go with the wide-brimmed hats worn by deputies.

Glancing at him and getting out her pad, she said, “You must be Mr. Q.”

“Yes, but are you aware of the department’s policy?”

“We don’t release your name.”

“That’s right. You must be Deputy Greenleaf.” It had said in the paper that a woman deputy was needed to escort women prisoners to the Bixby County detention facility. “Glad to have you in the department.”

She nodded, and the tassels on her hat bobbed.

Now Qwilleran knew why Koko had stayed up all night; he knew what was on the beach. If he had not campaigned for an outing on the shore… if he had not insisted on going east instead of west… if he had not started digging at one particular spot, the backpacker mystery would remain unsolved. Most cats had a sixth sense, but Koko’s perception of right and wrong went beyond catly concerns. He sensed answers to the questions that baffled humans and found ways of communicating his findings. Qwilleran could attribute his talents only to his magnificent whiskers. Yum Yum had the standard forty-eight; Koko had sixty.

Qwilleran had reasons for being secretive about Koko’s special gifts and his own involvement, and he was relieved to hear the six o’ clock newscast on WPKX: “Acting on a tip from a beachcomber, the sheriff’s department today found the body of the backpacker missing since Friday. It was buried in the sand near Mooseville. The deceased was identified by Magnus and Doris Hawley as the hiker who had come to their house asking permission to camp on their property. Cause of death has not been determined, according to a sheriff’s spokesperson. Identification was found on the body but is being withheld pending notification of family. The deceased was not from the tri-county area.”

The locals always felt better when the subject of an accident or crime was not one of their own. Arch Riker would be furious, Qwilleran knew, because the newsbreak had happened on the radio station’s time, and the Something could not cover it until Friday; no paper was published on the holiday.

Qwilleran himself was pleased with the way things had turned out and proposed to reward the Siamese with a session of reading aloud. They always enjoyed the sound of his voice, and he rather enjoyed it, too. He suggested Far from the

Madding Crowd. “You’ll like it,” he said. “It’s about sheep and cows. There’s also a dog named George and a cat who plays a minor role.” His readings for the Siamese were always dramatized by sound effects. His theater training in college had made him an expert at bleating, barking, and meowing - if nothing else - and the cats especially liked the lowing of cattle. He did a two-note “moo-oo” like a foghorn. When he mooed, they looked at him with a do-it-again expression in their alert blue eyes, and he did it again. To tell the truth, he enjoyed mooing.