The Cat Who Smelled a Rat_txt

way in the nineteenth century. The Limburger mansion had been purchased by the Klingenschoen Foundation and was now making its debut as a country inn. There had been magnificent black walnut trees in the vicinity, and the mansion had the treasured black walnut woodwork. Hence the name: the Nutcracker Inn.

Qwilleran said to Wetherby, “I was in this house when the old man was alive-an eccentric old geezer. There was a cuckoo clock in the front hall. It’s gone.”

“A good thing, too!” was the reply. “It would have driven the guests crazy. Or perhaps I should say: cuckoo.”

When the innkeeper welcomed them, Qwilleran asked about facilities for lodging and was told there were four large rooms on the second floor, two suites on the third floor, and five semi-housekeeping cabins down by the creek.

“Open all year round?”

“That depends what happens after snow flies. The K Foundation will make the decision. I’m Chicago-based, under contract to train staff and get the place running, then hire permanent innkeepers from the locality.”

“I know the ideal couple,” Qwilleran said. “Lori and Nick Bamba have the personality for innkeeping and a certain amount of experience.”

“Good! Tell them to apply to the K Foundation.”

When they were seated in the dining room, Wetherby said, “I remember the Bambas. They had a B&B at Breakfast Island. What happened?”

“The weather didn’t cooperate. Lori is working at the Pet Plaza now.”

“Kennebeck is having its annual roundup of stray cats before the Big One moves in. Any stray that’s adopted will be spayed or neutered-with Tipsy’s Tavern paying for it.”

“Tipsy herself was a stray, seventy years ago,” Qwilleran said.

“Did you see that teaser ad for a new recreation center in Pickax? What do you suppose it is?”

“Who knows? They promise fun for the whole family.”

“And did you see the letters to the editor in Monday’s paper? They’re all nuts! Did you hear that we have a professional astrologer living in the Village? I’m thinking of having my horoscope done. She does it in depth. Why don’t you have yours done, Qwill? I’m a Scorpio, sexy and talkative. What are you?”

“A Gemini-talented, likable, sensitive, kind, generous-“

“Sure,” Wetherby said.

“How about filling me in on curling-before we go to the club? How many on a team?”

“Four and a captain, called a skip.”

“How big is the rink?”

“A little wider than a bowling alley-and longer. The target, called the ‘house,’ is a circle of concentric rings, and the bull’s-eye is called the ‘tee.’”

“And what are the stones and brooms called?”

“Stones and brooms.”

“What does the skip do?”

“He reads the ice. There’s fast ice and slow ice. He calls the plays: when to sweep, when to take out an opponent’s stone, how much weight to put into the throw. A lot of strategy and a lot of skill go into the game. Also a lot of suspense for the watchers. It won’t be crowded tonight, but you should see it when they have a tournament-called a bonspiel.”

The Pickax Curling Club had been built out in the country where land was affordable, and there was plenty of space for parking during a bonspiel. It looked, everyone said, like a Swiss chalet, and the interior expressed friendliness, the essence of the sport of curling.

Qwilleran later described his reactions in his personal journal:

Joe and I started in the warming room, where I saw a few persons I knew: Theo and Misty Morghan … Fran Brodie and Dr. Prelligate … Hixie Rice and Dwight Somers… Jeffa Young with (of all people!) Kirt Nightingale. Was he trying to sell her some books? Or was she lining him up for a natal chart? Dwight thanked me for recommending him to Cass Young and said he could do the builder a lot of good.

While chatting with the Morghans, I heard something enlightening. Misty’s secret patron (I happen to know he’s Don Exbridge) dropped in at her studio to inquire if she could meet a certain deadline. He said they’re for use in a large restaurant with balconies, and the batiks would hang from the balcony railings. The restaurant wanted to open before snow flies. It would help if she could deliver a few of the batiks, if not the whole order.

So that explained why Ernie Kemple’s offer for the building was rejected! Exbridge is going into business with the former owner of Otto’s Tasty Eats!

Joe pointed out Cass Young-a good-looking man, tall and straight like his mother. Cass and the members of the ice committee were dealing with a problem, so we didn’t intrude. It appeared that the new compressor machine was not maintaining the ice properly, and there was a bonspiel scheduled for Saturday. The technician had to come from Bixby, and he had a prior emergency, but he would come late if someone would promise to let him in.

Mechanical equipment, restrooms and lockers were on a lower level, but we could see a small trophy area at the foot of the stairs. There was a commemorative curling stone on a pedestal and a pair of crossed pickaxes on the wall-the same insigne that appears in the small pin worn by members.