The Cat Who Dropped a Bombshell

Chapter 9

While Qwilleran waited for a calamity to prove his theory, that everything was going too well forPickax Now (he was right, of course, but proof would come later), Clarissa arrived, as reported in his private journal.

Tuesday - Clarissa has arrived.

No fuss, no muss. She's a real newswoman - independent; knows her way around; no need for welcoming assistance. Her curls and dimples are misleading.

So we learn that she and Jerome and luggage arrived by plane, then drove an airport rental car to the Winston Park apartments, where she had reserved a unit by phone. Her first consideration was to stock up on cat food and litter for Jerome's commode, which apparently came with them from California, althoughhow is not quite clear.

Although not due to report until next week, she went to the paper and introduced herself, shaking hands, lining up a desk in the feature department and even accepting an assignment for Monday morning. I'd say she's off to a good start. Joe Bunker just called to say he's giving a pizza party for our blond bombshell on Sunday night.

Qwilleran was not surprised to receive a phone call from Wetherby. "She's here! She's here!"

He replied with sly punctilio. "To whom are you referring?"

"You know who I mean! And I'm giving a pizza party for her Sunday night. Could you pick her up? She has an apartment at Winston Park."

"Am I invited to the party, or am I employed to do chauffeur service?"

"You're not only invited, you donkey, but I expect you to contribute to the entertainment. How about reciting some of your cat limericks?"

"If you'll play ?Kitten on the Keys' without exceeding the speed limit."

Following this good-old-boy repartee, Qwilleran phoned Clarissa to make arrangements. "I hope you like pizza," he said.

"Doesn't everyone? What time?"

"Six-thirty. Come as you are."

"Will you come in for a minute to say hello to Jerome? He's dying to meet you."

"Sure . . . but tell him not to dress up. His old blue fur will do."

Qwilleran had other things on his mind besides Wetherby's pizza party. He had two columns to write for the "Qwill Pen" . . . perform another Sunday matinee of The Big Burning (three down and only ten to go) . . . make an appearance at a family reunion . . . and keep his own family well fed and happy. If the Siamese felt neglected, they had succinct ways of expressing their displeasure.

So he cubed some meat loaf from Robin O'Dell Catering and arranged it attractively on two plates. While they dined, he entertained them with an impromptu parody of Gelett Burgess's wacky verse:

I've never seen a purple cat.

I never hope to see one.

But you can bet your breakfast that

I'd rather see than be one.

His listeners regarded him in perplexity, as if questioning his sanity. Their catly psyche was not being pricked.

Of the seven family reunions scheduled for Pickax, Qwilleran chose the Ogilvie-Fugtree gathering. He had known Mitch Ogilvie ever since the young bachelor had been manager of a rural museum in North Middle Hummock; Qwilleran had met Kristi Fugtree when the K Fund helped her register her ancestral home as an historic place. Now they were married and starting a family. She was a goat farmer; Mitch had learned how to make goat cheese. They lived in the house that Kristi's great-grandfather, Captain Fugtree, built when he returned from the wars: a tall brick mansion in the Victorian style - with a tower. According to legend, a "maiden in distress" once flung herself from the tower "on a dark and stormy night."

When Qwilleran drove to the reunion on Saturday afternoon, he could hear sounds of revelry in the quiet countryside long before he came upon the scene.

His first impression upon arrival was one of color, quite unlike the somber aspect of the farm in previous years, when Kristi's entire herd of goats had been tragically wiped out.

Now the grass seemed greener, the old brick redder, and the colorful attire of folks on holiday resembled a garden in motion.

Dozens of celebrators were laughing, jabbering, running around, playing games, guzzling soft drinks.

Men were pitching horseshoes, young people were playing badminton. Their elders huddled in lawn chairs, and his tape recorder picked up chatter like this:

"He's had several promotions, so they're doing all right financially."

"Do you like the color Helen dyed her hair?"

"I didn't see you at Gail's wedding; it was lovely!"

"Isn't that radio rather loud?"

"I never thought Kristi would have children, but the twins are adorable!"

"Max and Theo arrived together. Does that mean they're not feuding?"

"Uncle Morry bought their plane tickets."

"That dear man! So much money and he can't enjoy it."

"He won't be with us much longer."

"Why is Morry so good to those boys? They have no ambition."

"Morry says the rest of us have everything we want."

"Have you seen the Wilsons' new house? It's very modern!"

"Their son went to college on a basketball scholarship."

"Laura's talking about a divorce. Too bad."

"How do you feel about goats? Kristi's mad about them."

"She says goat's milk is good for the digestion."

"I should try it. Isn't that radio awfully loud?"

Qwilleran asked Kristi how they handled overnight accommodations. She said, "The kids like the tents in the backyard, and the older folks sleep in the rooms upstairs. We've an elevator now. Others shack up with Ogilvie families around the county."

"Who has traveled the farthest?"

"A Fugtree family from Texas."

"Do you make an effort to entertain them?"

"As you probably know, Mitch is a good storyteller, and I introduce everyone to the goats, who are really sweet and sociable. Also, Mitch explains cheese making.

"And then, you've probably noticed the games at the picnic tables: cards, Parcheesi, checkers, jigsaw puzzles--"

"Does everyone get along?"

"The kids have a few squabbles, but Mitch is great at handling them. He's also organized a committee to figure out how the Ogilvies and the Fugtrees can leave the town of Pickax some useful memento of their visit here."

"Any ideas yet?"

"Not so far."

Qwilleran circulated. Many out-of-towners knew who he was and wanted to be photographed with him. It was the moustache they loved.

He enjoyed talking to two young women, sisters, who played mandolin and flute. Then there were two young men, cousins, who asked him about rabbit hunting in Moose County. And Kristi said the caterer would make hasenpfeffer if they brought back any rabbits.

When the hunters left for the woods, Qwilleran left to go home and feed the cats. As he told Polly later, "I didn't want to be there when two grinning hunters returned, clutching rabbits by the ears."

On the way home, Qwilleran stopped at the bookstore. He and Polly had decided to forgo their Saturday night dinner date and musicale - this, in anticipation of a busy weekend.

He said, "Joe has asked me to pick up Clarissa for his party, but Judd Amhurst will take her home. So you and I can finish the evening with a little Mozart and Berlioz at your place."

She agreed. "What did you think of the Ogilvie-Fugtree reunion?"

"Not bad. I can make it sound better than it was."

Polly said, "I'm excited about tomorrow afternoon; I've seen the Big Burning show a total of four times over the years, but I always weep when you talk about the father who tried to save his two small children."

Qwilleran admitted that he choked up himself, no matter how many times he had read that passage.

In the script the radio announcer said, "And then there was a father who tried to save his two small children, but he couldn't because his right arm was burned off. Burned off! He had to choose between them!"

There were a few minutes of silence, and then Polly said, "Don't forget the Heirloom Auction next Saturday. Have you thought of anything you can donate?"

"Only the twistle-twig rocker, but I donated it to a charity auction once before and had to buy it back because Koko went on a hunger strike. The myth is that anyone sitting in it will think great thoughts."

"Where do you keep it?" Polly asked. "I haven't seen it for years!"

"Well, the barn interior looks best with no-nonsense contemporary. I keep the twistle-twig in the cats' apartment. Yum Yum gives it a wide berth, but Koko likes the bowl-shaped seat. Well, see you tomorrow after the show."

As Qwilleran drove back to the barn, it occurred to him that the twistle-twig rocker might account for Koko's remarkable psychic ability. Qwilleran had always attributed the cat's foresight to his sixty whiskers - sixty instead of the standard forty-eight; but perhaps that crafty little animal had also been sitting in the bowl-shaped seat of the twistle-twig and thinking extraordinary thoughts.

The "Smart Koko" was dancing in the kitchen window when Qwilleran drove into the barnyard; it meant there was a message on the answering machine.

A man's voice said, "Qwill! Don't run anything in the paper about the reunion! We have some bad trouble here! This is Mitch."

Unable to believe his ears, Qwilleran listened to the message a second time. At the same moment Koko, who was right at his elbow, stretched his neck and uttered a howl that would chill the blood.

It started in his lower depths and ended in an unearthly shriek! It was not the first time Qwilleran had heard Koko's death howl, and he knew what it meant. Wrongful death . . . someone . . . somewhere.

Linking Mitch's cryptic message and Koko's doleful one, Qwilleran refrained from phoning the farmhouse for more particulars; he could imagine the frenzy that had replaced the happy scene.

Instead, he took a shortcut; he phoned the newspaper.