THE CAT WHO SAW STARS_

“I think he’s tired,” said the fisherman. “He’s gettin’ on in years, and he’s had a hard day.”

Driving back to the cabin, Qwilleran pounded his moustache with his fist. Now he had something pertinent to discuss with Brodie: first, the rendezvous of the Suncatcher and Fast Mama; then Owen’s disappearance; then Einstein’s behavior.

As for his houseguest, if she failed to leave on Sunday morning, he was prepared to throw her out, as Wetherby had suggested. Still, he would prefer to use psychology. For example, he could drop some leading remarks into the conversation at dinner.

During the cocktail hour: “I certainly enjoyed our visit, Tess!”

With the soup course (she had promised gazpacho): “I hope you’ve found this trip worthwhile.”

With the steak: “Feel free to phone me

about any future developments in Crowmania, such as a civil war or military coup.”

With the dessert: “They’re expecting violent weather, starting tomorrow noon.”

With the coffee: “How long does it take to drive to Horseradish?”

The excellent dinner was served on the porch, and Qwilleran dropped his hints as planned. Afterward, he said, “I’ll clean up the kitchen, in case there’s something you’d like to do.” (Like packing, he thought.)

“Thanks,” she said. “I’d like to phone my cat-sitter. The last time we talked, Princess was acting strangely.”

“She misses you,” Qwilleran was quick to say. “The females especially are upset by a long absence.”

Since the phone was on the bar, he could hardly avoid hearing her conversation: “Hi, Sandy. It’s me again. How’s Princess?…Is she still coughing? … Give her one of those pills. Mix it with her food, and let’s hope she keeps it down…

Tell Jeoffrey not to stress her… No, I don’t know when I’ll be home. I’m busy making friends for the Republic. But I’ll keep in touch.”

Qwilleran had yet another idea. He said to his guest, “Before you leave, I want to tape your story about Captain Bunker and the pirates. Why don’t we do it right now?” He made it sound urgent.

“I’d love to tell it again!” she said. “But first I want to feed my friends on the beach.” She had been scattering dried com once or twice a day, and the family of seven who had entertained Koko was now an extended family of forty or more.

Then, still immune to Qwilleran’s dropped hints, she said, “Do you realize that Grott’s Grocery carries duck eggs? I couldn’t resist buying four for breakfast. We’ll have mushroom omelettes. I also bought some of their delicious Cheddar for macaroni and cheese. I’ll prepare a casserole after breakfast, and we’ll have it for lunch.”

She had touched the two most vulnerable spots in his considerable appetite. Defeated, he mumbled, “Sounds good,” and proceeded to rationalize: Actors need audiences, writers need readers, and cooks need mouths to feed.

“Yow!” said Koko.

“He talks more than Jeoffrey does,” she said.

“Koko is a communicator.” They were sitting on the lake porch, waiting for the purple martins to swoop in for their evening ballet, during which each bird would consume his weight in mosquitoes, according to conventional wisdom. Yum Yum was on a nearby chair with Gertrude. Koko was on his pedestal. “He’s a very smart cat,” Qwilleran went on. “That’s because I read aloud to them. Yum Yum goes to sleep, but Koko listens, and his brain absorbs meanings even if his ears don’t know words.”

“Thought transference,” she said. “But how does he communicate?”

“He finds away. His senses are incredible. He knows when the phone is going to ring. A couple of weeks ago he knew there was a dead body buried in beach sand near here, and he led me to it.”

Tess said, “All cats are prescient to some extent. They’re aware of an approaching storm, or even an earthquake. Have you had any studies made of Koko’s capabilities?”

“No! I don’t want any studies, any publicity. This conversation is between you and me … Do I have your word?”

“Absolutely! And when I get home I’m going to start reading to Jeoffrey and Princess.”

-16-

On Sunday morning the sun was shining despite the weather warnings, and Tess came from the Snuggery in shorts, sandals, and a different type of crow T-shirt, depicting three nest-builders.

“Everyone out of the kitchen!” she ordered cheerily. “The poor man’s Julia Child is about to perform miracles… By the way,” she added as she picked up a skewer from the countertop, “one of these skewers keeps falling off its nail.”

“It’s no accident,” Qwilleran said. “Koko thinks it’s a toy. It was a mistake to hang them there… Is there anything I can do for you?”

“You might scatter some com on the beach.”

“There are no crows today,” he protested. “Scatter it, and they will come.”