THE CAT WHO SAW STARS_

He huffed into his moustache. Young females were always confiding in him, and he was tired of the kindly uncle role. “If you’re looking for free advice, don’t expect any from me,” he said, adding lightly, “unless you sign a release promising not to sue.”

Barb gestured helplessly. “I just want to unload, and you’re the only one I know who’s cool enough to understand.”

The compliment, coupled with his unbridled curiosity, led him to suggest talking over a cup of coffee somewhere.

She hesitated. “I don’t dare… talk about it… in a public place.”

He thought, If she expects an invitation to the cabin, it’s no deal! Then he had an inspiration! “I’ve never seen the petroglyphs. You could give me a guided tour.” He knew they were on the Ogilvie ranch. “It wouldn’t be for a newspaper story - just for my own education.”

She hesitated. “It would have to be when Alice isn’t at home, like… this afternoon?”

“Four o’clock?” he suggested.

“Wear boots. It could be muddy.”

-19-

When Qwilleran drove into the Ogilvie farmyard at four o’clock, Barb met him and told him where’ to park. “My dad’s pleased to know you want to see the’ glyph garden,” she said. “He reads your column, and he met you once at Scottish Night in Pickax. He says you wore a kilt and made a great speech.”

“Why didn’t you want your mother here, if I may ask?”

“Oh… she’d want to go with us. She has to stick her nose in everything.”

The driveway tapered into a rough wagon trail and then into a footpath. “Nice day for a hike,” he said. “May I carry the tote bag?” It contained two colorful seat cushions from the porch furniture.

“We’ll want to sit on the stones, and they’re damp,” she said. “I often go down there to knit. Is that crazy?”

“Not at all. I imagine it’s quiet.”

“Not really. I take a boom box.”

“In that case, if I have a choice, I’d like my vest to be knitted under the influence of Dizzy Gillespie and Charlie Parker.”

They tramped across pastures, through the gates of numerous fences, and past grazing flocks. “What are the petroglyphs doing on your land?” he asked. He knew the answer, but she enjoyed explaining how the lake had shrunk in the last few thousand years. “The shoreline that’s two miles away was once right here, so the glyphs were on the beach. I don’t know who put them here - probably the Sand Giant.”

The trail ended at a high chain-link fence enclosing a clutter of large flat slabs… and a colony of crows.

“This looks like the Republic of Crowmania in parliamentary session,” Qwilleran said.

“They know me. I usually bring them a handful of corn. Today I forgot… Do you want to poke around the stones for a while? There’s not much to see - just chicken scratchings that are supposed to be some kind of secret language.”

“Then I suggest we get down to business.” They selected two fairly horizontal slabs and sat on the red-and-white striped cushions.

“Mind if I smoke?” Barb asked, taking cigarettes from the tote bag.

“Yes, I mind,” Qwilleran said, “but for your sake, not necessarily mine.”

With a roguish glance, she said, “You sound just like my parents.”

“Then there are three smart people around here,” he said, “… Now what did you want to tell me?” He was in a snappish mood.

Reluctantly she dropped the cigarette pack into the tote bag. “I don’t know where to begin.”

“As the King of Hearts said to the White Rabbit, ‘Begin at the beginning and go on till you come to the end, then stop.’ “

“Well … I told you about Florida and the balloon-chaser, didn’t I? After I chalked him off, I started dating my boss. He was a lot older, but we had fun. He took me out on his boat, and I think he really liked me. I liked my job, too.”

“Where were you working?”

“At his restaurant. The only trouble was - the other waitresses were jealous. The boss gave me the best tables, and I was in solid with the chef. That meant my orders were filled first, and my customers got little extras, so I got bigger tips… Do you know? - A guy once left me a big tip and then went to the restroom, and I saw his date swipe it!”

Qwilleran huffed into his moustache. “Nothing surprises me. Stick to your story.”

“Well… one day another waitress backed me into a comer and said, ‘We all know what’s goin’ on, honey, and you’d better quit this job right now or we’ll tell his wife, and she’ll come after you. with a cleaver!’ … His wife! She was the chef! I thought he was a bachelor! I thought they were brother and sister! How could I be so dumb?”

“It happens,” he said. “I decided in a hurry that Florida was a dead end for me. I came home and started being a country girl again.”

“How long ago was that?”

“A year ago last winter. I started knitting seriously, and everything was okay until this summer, and then they suddenly showed up in Mooseville - the Bowens!”

“Did they know you lived here?”

“I guess I talked about my hometown a lot when I was Down Below. I always told people about the nice summer temperature in Moose County. Summers down there were unbearable!”

“Did Owen try to contact you?”