The Cat Who Blew The Whistle

-16-

Before playing Celia's secret tape, Qwilleran asked himself, Shall I embarrass her by returning it... or let her think she lost it? He set it up on the telephone desk and prepared to take notes. The first sounds were nothing but sobs and whimpers, with sympathetic murmurs and questions from Celia. Then he heard a wracked voice say:

"I can't believe it, Celia! I thought she was my friend - my best friend! But she used me! She used all of us!"

"What do you mean, Tish?"

"She was going to divert funds for Mother's treatment in Switzerland! She was I going to divert money for Eddie's condos, too. We believed her, because she was so knowledgeable and so nice! (Burst of sobs.) I even cheated so it would look as if she'd been fired. She's the one who suggested it.... Oh-h-h! She was so clever! Why I didn't I see through her scheme?"

"What was her scheme, Tish? What did I she do that was so bad?"

"It's what Eddie tried to tell me before he died. She wanted someone to do a special job for her, and he took Benno to see her."

"What kind of job? Didn't Eddie ask questions?"

"I guess not. My poor brother wasn't smart. He only went to tenth grade. And he drank too much. He ended up being an accomplice in a terrible crime." (Choking sobs.)

"Oh, dear! What kind of crime?"

(Long pause.) "Murder! When F.T. disappeared, they said he'd skipped with millions of dollars that didn't belong to him, but it was Nella who skipped. Floyd was dead!"

"Was Eddie able to tell you all this?"

"In snatches. He was gasping for breath. I had to put my ear close to his lips to hear him."

"Are you sure it's true?"

"People don't lie when they're dying, do they?"

"Maybe you're right, Tish. But how was Eddie an accomplice?"

"He helped Benno bury the body. But Nella was gone, and Benno didn't get his blood money. He wanted Eddie to pay off."

"How much? Do you know?"

"No, but it must have been a lot. Eddie's money was tied up. They argued. Benno shot his dog for spite. Then, one night in a bar, the lights went out. Benno pulled a knife. Eddie tried to get it away from him. He didn't mean to kill him - "

"Oh, Tish, I feel so sorry for you! I wish I could do something to help. What can I do?"

"Nothing. It just helps to have someone to talk to. You've been so good to us, Celia."

"Are you going to do anything about Eddie's confession?"

"I don't know. I can't think straight."

"But Nella should be arrested, if she plotted the murder and stole the money. Where did they bury the body?"

"Eddie tried to tell me, but he couldn't get it out. His eyes rolled up in his head, and he was gone." (Convulsive crying.)

"There must be something I can do to help you, dear."

"I don't know. I just want to get on that plane and never come back."

"Could I handle the funeral arrangements for you?"

"Would you? I'd be so thankful."

"Do you need me at the house this afternoon?"

"No, I'll be there, getting Mother ready for the trip. She's never been on a plane. I haven't either. Wouldn't it be ironic if it crashed in the Atlantic?"

"Oh, Tish! Don't say that!"

"The Trevelyan curse!" (Wild laughter.)

As the tape ended, Qwilleran realized the meaning of Koko's eccentric behavior in recent weeks. The first hint of something wrong was the cat's unusual vigil at the front window; he sensed impending evil!

The day after Audit Sunday, Qwilleran recalled, Koko performed his ominous death dance on the coffee table - specifically circling the scandal headline on the front page of the paper. After that, he became a cat possessed. While Yum Yum pursued wads of crumpled paper and collected paper clips, Koko was infatuated with black pens, duck decoys, the wooden whistle, the brass paperweight, and other significant items. The three-headed dog may have been symbolic of the three felons involved in the Lumbertown fraud and its bloody aftermath. (On the other hand, Koko may have found the sharp edges of the paperweight useful, Qwilleran had to admit.)

Then the question arose: Were Eddie's deathbed accusations only hallucinations? Did Nella really mastermind the plot? Dwight Somers had seen "scruffy characters" knocking on her door; both Eddie and Benno fitted that description. Did Nella urge Eddie to move to Indian Village and into her own building for devious reasons? She was nothing less than gorgeous, everyone agreed, and the unkempt high school dropout from Sawdust City could easily have fallen under her spell.

Qwilleran's eye fell on the wooden whistle that someone had knocked off the coffee table for the twentieth time. Perhaps Nella herself tipped off the auditors; that would account for the neat timing of the scheme. She juggled the books; she plotted the murder; she blew the whistle and collaborated with the auditors; she made the phone call that lured Floyd to the fork in the road, where he parked his car and met a pickup truck with two carpenters, one with a hammer and one with a shovel. His disappearance was intended to confirm his guilt, and it fooled everyone - except Koko.

Qwilleran looked at his watch. It was late, but not too late to call the police chief at home. "What are you doing tomorrow morning, Andy?" he asked, after some teasing about late-night X-rated TV movies.

"Taking the wife shopping" was the gruff reply.

"How about driving over to the apple barn first, for half an hour?"

"Business or social?"

"Business, but I'll have coffee waiting for you."

"Oh, no, you won't! I'm not ready to have my hair fall out. I'll bring a nontoxic take-out from Lois's."

"What time?"

"Nine o'clock."

On Saturday morning Koko knew something was afoot. While eating his breakfast, he kept looking over his shoulder and listening. When Brodie arrived, he was not in uniform, and Yum Yum kept staring at him.

"What's the matter with her?" Brodie asked.

"She's looking for your badge."

Qwilleran had been wondering how to report his information to the police chief without naming his collaborators: a pleasant gray-haired grandmother and an intuitive cat. He began by enlisting Andy's sympathy. "Polly's in the hospital," he said morosely. "Heart attack."

"How bad?"

"I phoned this morning, and she's out of danger. It was a shock, although I should have seen it coming. Too much stress and not enough exercise."

"You've gotta look after that lady, Qwill. She's an asset to the community. Why don't you and Polly - "

"Never mind," Qwilleran said. "You can go and play your bagpipe at someone else's wedding."

The two men sat at the breakfast bar with their coffee and some doughnuts from Lois's.

"How's the Lumbertown investigation coming along?" Qwilleran asked.

"To tell the truth, I think they've run out of places to look for that guy."

"It's my opinion that he's right here in Moose County - underground."

"You mean - hiding out?"

"No. Buried."

Brodie swallowed a gulp of coffee too fast and coughed. "What makes you think so? Have you been conversing with your psychic cat?"

"I have an informant."

"Who?"

"I'd be crazy to reveal my source."

"Why did he come to you? Why not the police?"

"Well, it's like this, Andy. A lot of people out there don't like the media, but they like the media better than they like the cops. Tipsters, you know, are whispering in our ears all the time."

Brodie grunted. "D'you pay for the information?"

"Why would we pay for it? We didn't ask for it; we didn't want it; we can't use it."

"So what did you find out?"

"Floyd was no financial wizard, but he hired someone who was. That person juggled the books to defraud the depositors, and Floyd wasn't savvy enough to realize it, or he was too involved with his trains to care. Then the true embezzler threw suspicion on Floyd by having him disappear, when actually she had plotted his murder."

"She?" Brodie said with unprofessional astonishment. "You mean - his secretary?"

"She posed as his secretary, although she was second in command, hired to introduce new accounting methods - and she sure did! Not only did she abscond with the loot, but she didn't even payoff her hitman. The investigators questioned her in Texas but let her slip through their fingers."

"She told them she was fired for accusing the Lumbertown president of sexual harassment," Brodie explained.

"Okay, now I want to show you a video of the Lumbertown Party Train on Audit Sunday, if the cats will allow us to use their TV. The suspect appears in several frames."

"Why don't you get a TV of your own?" the chief grumbled as they climbed the ramp to the highest balcony. The Siamese followed them, then bounded ahead to claim the only available chair.

"Sorry, we have standing room only," Qwilleran apologized. "Now watch the crowd scenes for a gorgeous woman in trousers - also in the dining car with Floyd."

The video played. Brodie watched. Koko yowled at intervals.

"So where's the body?" he asked when the tape was rewinding.

"No one knows; that's for you guys to find out. The hitman himself was killed in that fracas at the Trackside Tavern, and his accomplice has since died in an accident. If you ever find the body, I believe your forensic experts will say he was killed by a blow, or blows, to the head, inflicted by a carpenter's hammer."

"You expect me to believe all this? Well... thanks for the entertainment. It was better than the play I saw Thursday night." They started down the ramp, and in passing one of the large windows Brodie said, "You should clear out that jungle and build a motel."

"The far end of the jungle," Qwilleran told him, "is where Floyd's son, Eddie, was fatally injured in the tractor rollover."

"Must be true what they say about the Trevelyan curse."

After walking with his guest to the parking area, Qwilleran made a few turns around the barn before letting himself in the front door. As he opened it, something slammed into his legs, throwing him off balance. It was Koko, shooting out of the door like a cannonball!

"Koko! Come back here!" Qwilleran yelled, but the cat was headed lickety- split down the orchard trail. The man charged after him, shouting. Koko kept on going. It was a hundred yards to Trevelyan Road, and he was covering it with the speed of a gazelle. There was the danger that he might dash across the highway in front of a car.

"Koko! Stop!" Qwilleran yelled with all the breath he could muster during the chase.

The cat stopped, but not until he had reached the building site. He ignored the framework of the new building. He went directly to the concrete slab of the garage and started his digging act. His hindquarters were elevated, and his brisket was close to the slab as he scraped the rough surface. Then he flopped on his side and rolled luxuriously on the concrete, twisting this way and that in apparent ecstasy.

The demonstration chilled Qwilleran's blood. He remembered that Eddie had poured the slab early in the morning after Audit Sunday, although the cement work had been scheduled for later in the week. It was on that Monday, also, that Koko had commenced his vigil at the foyer window. Had he witnessed something unusual during the night? From his window on the top balcony he had a view of the orchard trail. With his feline nightsight he might have seen a truck without headlights pulling onto the property. Perhaps he heard the clink of shovels in the rocky soil. Later came Koko's resolute digging in the crook of Qwilleran's elbow, not to mention his interest in the Panama Canal. Qwilleran grabbed Koko and carried him back to the barn. Now what? he asked himself. If he confided his suspicions to Brodie, the jackhammers would move in, digging up Polly's garage floor, and she'd have another heart attack.

Carrying a bunch of fresh daisies, Qwilleran went to the hospital and found Polly sitting in a chair, looking remarkably serene. She was feeling fine, she said. She was looking forward to the catheterization; it might be an adventure. The hospital food was better than she expected. Dr. Diane was a dear young woman. The cardiologist from Lockmaster was most encouraging.

There was a sparkle in Polly's eyes that Qwilleran had not seen for several weeks, and finally she said, "I have a subject to broach to you, dear. I hope you won't be offended."

"You know I'm offense-proof where you're concerned, Polly."

"Well, I believe that this little setback of mine is a message from the fates that I should not build a house; Bootsie and I should move into the Duncan homestead with Lynette. That is, if you think I can dispose of my two acres and a half-finished house."

"No problem," he said with a sigh of relief.