The Cat Who Smelled a Rat_txt

Emma was fired by curiosity, and she went out to the smithy with a shovel. It was dark, but she went without a lantern rather than arouse further gossip. Most of the yard was trampled hard as a rock. There was one spot near the big tree where she tried digging. There were tree roots. She found another spot.

Then, just as she was about to give up, her shovel struck metal. She dropped to her knees and began scraping the soil furiously with her bare hands, gradually exposing an iron chest. With her hands trembling and heart pounding, she opened the lid. The chest was filled with gold coins! Frightened by the sight, she closed the lid and knelt there, hugging her arms in thought-deep thought… . There had been a dark rag on top of the gold. Once more she opened the lid-just a few inches-and reached in stealthily as if afraid to touch the coins. Pulling out the rag, she took it indoors to examine by lamplight.

It was bright red. It was the red bandanna that a pirate tied around his head.

She went back to the yard, covered the chest with soil, stamping it down with her feet. The next day she had the yard paved with cobblestones.

Emma had always wondered where her husband had acquired his gold watch.

And Qwilleran wondered, as he wrote the last sentence, how freely had Eddington chatted with the strangers who spent hours on his ladders? Had he told them his grandmother’s tale?

The Siamese seemed to be spending many of their waking hours on the coffee table, mesmerized by the French martini pitcher. While Yum Yum hung back warily, Koko gave it a nearsighted, nose-twitching examination. No doubt he thought he saw movement inside. The thick glass, its voluptuous shape, the ever-changing quality and direction of the light source, and his own shifting position-all produced an effect of activity inside the innocent jug.

Koko was hanging over it as if it were a crystal ball, and Qwilleran wondered whimsically if the cat could read the future. He had to guard against taking the cat’s prescience too seriously, so he said heartily, “Any excitement today? Did any river rats come up for a drink of water? I hope you didn’t invite them in.”

Koko and Yum Yum acted totally deaf.

As always, on acquiring another legend for his collection, Qwilleran was exhilarated-until he thought, How can I publish this? It’ll bring a horde of opportunists with jackhammers!

Membership in the Honorable Society of Treasure Hunters had been growing since a few had struck it rich. Old-timers in Moose County would rather bury their money in a coffee can in the backyard than entrust it to a bank. The sites of former outhouses were said to be particular treasure troves. The diggers went out after dark. It was a wholesome hobby, they said, affording fresh air, exercise, excitement, and sometimes rewards. Their enthusiasm was not shared, however, by property owners whose lawns, pastures, and fields of soy beans had been excavated.

Then Qwilleran thought, The Bixby realty agent (if that’s what he was) may have had something in mind other than a strip mall. “Yow!” came a loud clear comment from Koko-either to corroborate Qwilleran’s theory or remind him that dinner was overdue.

Qwilleran fed the Siamese and then dressed for Maggie’s dinner party.

eight

Qwilleran picked up Polly for the drive to Maggie Sprenkle’s dinner party, and as soon as they turned onto the highway, he asked, “What’s new in your exciting young life?”

“I custom-ordered a sweater from Barb Ogilvie-for my sister, for Christmas. Camel tan with sculptured texture in the knit. Did you know that Barb is dating Barry Morghan? They met through Barry’s sister-in-law, who’s an artist.”

“They sound like a likely pair,” he said.

“Barb said she saw you going into the antique shop one day.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“That all depends. Have you started collecting antiques? Or did you go to visit Susan Darling?” There had been a personality clash between the two women ever since Susan’s brief term on the library board. Susan said the head librarian had unsophisticated taste; Polly said the antique dealer had never read a book in her life. It was the kind of feud that gave Qwilleran devilish amusement. He had to bite his tongue to resist telling Polly she had Susan’s porcelain parrots.

He said, “I went in to congratulate her on being accepted for the New York show-but really to scrounge a cup of coffee. I saw a sampler I liked, and she gave it to me.”

“What kind of sampler?” Polly asked sharply.

“You’ll see, next time you come over. I also have a wall hanging over the fireplace, selected by Fran.”

“What kind of hanging?”

“Wait and see.” He was being mischievously perverse. Then to change the subject: “What’s this dinner party all about?”

“Wait and see,” Polly said smugly.