THE CAT WHO SAW STARS_

Cecil’s great-uncle was pessimistic. “When the Sand Giant gets mad, he gets mad! And he’s mad at somethin’ or somebody.”

From there, Qwilleran went to Elizabeth’s Magic, knowing there was always someone there on a Monday, come hell or high water. He parked at the curb, facing the wrong way, and made a dash for the overhang. When he hammered on the door, Derek came from the rear to let him in.

“Hi, Mr. Q! What d’you think of this rain?”

“The Sand Giant was sick of hearing complaints I about the dry summer.”

“Come in the back and have coffee. I’ve been sorting books, and I’m ready for a break.”

They sat in the spidery chairs, and Qwilleran asked, “Where’s Elizabeth?”

“On Grand Island for her brother’s birthday. They picked her up yesterday in the family yacht - the Argonaut. Maybe you’ve seen it in the harbor. Her dad was into Latin and Greek and all that stuff. He taught Liz the Greek alphabet. Do you know anyone who can recite the Greek alphabet?”

“Not in Moose County.”

“She’s teaching me. Alpha, beta, gamma, delta… that’s as far as I’ve got.”

Qwilleran fingered his moustache; there were some answered questions here. “These books of his that she’s putting into her lending library… I trust they’re not in Greek and Latin.”

Derek laughed - nervously, it appeared. “No, nothing like that.”

“No one has mentioned what the old boy collected. Don’t tell me it’s pornography, and Liz is opening an adult lending library in downtown Mooseville!”

There was another nervous negative.

“Come on, Derek. Am I supposed to play Twenty Questions? What’s to stop me from going to the stockroom and having a look around?”

“Okay, but promise you won’t tell Liz I spilled the beans… Her dad had everything that was ever printed about UFOs - in all languages. He had Chariots of the Gods in the original German.”

Qwilleran huffed into his moustache. “And why was she keeping it a secret?”

“Well, you know how you are about UFOs - you and Arch Riker. After the publicity breaks in the Chicago papers and on the TV networks, she thinks you’ll break down and give the story coverage.”

“And you expect that kind of national attention?”

“Well, the PR department at the K Fund is handling it, and they’ve been up here collecting facts. You see, it’s not just a tourist gimmick. It’ll attract serious researchers. The valuable books will be available only to scholars.”

Qwilleran huffed into his moustache again. Pleadingly, Derek said, “Promise me you won’t say anything about this. If you do, I’ll be in bad trouble.”

“I promise. But one question: Who’s going to catalogue the books?”

“Her dad had them all catalogued.”

“I see… Well, I’d better get home and see if the cabin has floated away. I hear your play was rained out last night. How about the restaurant tomorrow? Access roads are flooded.”

“I know. I talked to Ernie on the phone, but she’s determined to open… Wait a second, Qwill, and I’ll give you a printout of the new menu.”

-17-

Still it rained. Returning to the cabin on Monday afternoon, Qwilleran found two reproachful cats huddled on the coffee table, giving him an accusing eye, and two postcards on the floor.

“I don’t like it any more than you do,” he said. “Think dry thoughts, and maybe it’ll stop.”

It was mid-afternoon in July but dark as twilight in January. He turned on all the lights and flopped on the sofa with the new menu from Owen’s Place.

Reading it from Polly’s viewpoint, he guessed that her appetizer would be the miniature acorn squash roasted with a stuffing of wild rice, fresh corn, and caramelized onion. Her entrée would probably be the potato-crusted filet of salmon served with shiitake mushrooms, saffron risotto, and chive beurre blanc.

The telephone rang, making all three of them jump, and a grouchy male voice said, “I’ve been trying to reach you all afternoon. Where’ve you been?”

“To the haunts of coot and hern,” Qwilleran retorted. He and Arch Riker had a lifetime license to be rude to each other.

“This rain’s driving me nuts! If only it would turn off for five minutes and start again, I wouldn’t care, but it’s relentless! Mildred copes by cooking. Why don’t you come and eat with us?”

“What’s on the menu?”

“Gumbo. And she’s made some kind of pie. Come anytime, I’m mixing a martini for myself right now.”

Qwilleran changed his shirt, fed the cats, and steered the van between the raindrops to Top o’ the Dune.

Mildred met him at the kitchen door. “You’re so brave, Qwill, to come out in this downpour!”

“I’ll do anything for a free meal, especially if you prepared it. What kind of pie did you make?”

“A new recipe. Strawberry lemon cream. Arch is in the living room with his cocktail. Shall I do something creative with tomato juice for you?”

“Please. And don’t forget the hot sauce.”

“He’s as cross as a bear. See if you can cheer him up.”

Qwilleran found him growling at the TV screen and said playfully, “Don’t bother to get up, Arch.”

“I didn’t intend to,” his friend grumbled.