The Cat Who Dropped a Bombshell

Chapter 16

Early Sunday morning, two surprised Siamese were stuffed into their cat carrier and loaded into the SUV along with luggage, a food cooler, "Qwill Pen" notes, and desk clutter. Qwilleran had brought the outdoor furniture in from the gazebo and stacked it in the foyer, and Pat O'Dell's maintenance crew would disassemble the gazebo screens and otherwise storm proof the barn for a short absence.

They were moving to their condo in Indian Village, which was in a strip of four, called the Willows and shared with Polly, Wetherby Goode, and Dr. Connie, the veterinarian.

When the refugees from the barn arrived, the village management had already shuttered the large glass window walls and sandbagged the banks of the creek that they overlooked.

Eliminating the view made for a gloomy interior, but Qwilleran could read and the cats could sleep and Wetherby would find excuses for parties.

This would be the first time the connecting doors between the underground garages had ever been used.

Qwilleran notified Wetherby when he arrived. Then they joined Dr. Connie and Polly at the weatherman's unit for an impromptu lunch.

As they waited for the wind and rain to strike, conversation about the weather was avoided.

Polly talked about the success of the "violet" book. Qwilleran said he'd like to write a biography of the late Homer Tibbitt. Connie talked about her new marmalade cat, a litter mate of Dundee. The host played the piano.

Then the wind came up, and it started to rain hard, and they returned to their respective condos - through the basement tunnel - to be with their pets, who would need comforting. The question of who-comforted-whom was a topic for Qwilleran to cover in his journal that night. He wrote:

Sunday - I daresay no one is sleeping tonight, least of all Koko and Yum Yum. The wind screeches; the rain slaps against the building. It stops for a while, and the cats crawl out from under the blankets, and then it starts again, with renewed ferocity.

During the lulls, Joe calls all of us to see if we're okay. He warns us that it may start again.

And it does!

I'm no radio-nut myself, but everyone else in the county tunes in WPKX newbites, especially on weekends and holidays, when the Something doesn't publish. The station calls their newsbites a public service, but I suspect they're just trying to scoop the newspaper. Furthermore, why should I listen to the newsbites, when all my friends are addicted and will phone me with the news of the latest fires, thefts, accidents, and other calamities?

It's the Moose County Grapevine.

All night a howling, blasting wind and a drenching, whipping rain took turns in tormenting the residents of the Willows. No one could get any sleep, least of all the six cats.

On Monday, the second day of the sporadic hurricane, Junior Goodwinter, the managing editor of the paper, called.

"The way it looks, no paper tomorrow, but a skeleton crew is on call, and we might put out a Hurricane Edition - just a few pages with emergency news. We see it as a collector's item, a sort of historical document."

"Is there anything I can do, Junior?"

"You might write a short ?Qwill Pen' piece about Cool Koko's reaction to the hurricane - something to make readers smile."

Judd Amhurst called from Winston Park. "Lucky to be out there, Qwill. Will you tell Polly that we rescued Dundee from the bookstore, and he's staying with Peggy? Rudy is with me, keeping his head while all the rest of us are losing ours."

Hixie Rice called. "Glad you made it back to the condo, Qwill. Most of us are sitting it out at the clubhouse." (He thought, Getting sloshed.)

He said, "Too bad about the parade."

Then Polly called to remark that the wind had quieted a little. Qwilleran told her the good news about Dundee.

"Wait a minute! There's a death notice on the radio!" In a minute she returned. "Doris Ledfield died tonight! Following a respiratory infection! I'll hang up in case they broadcast more details."

Before she could call back, Maggie Sprenkle phoned.

"Qwill, I feel awful! I was so elated yesterday after the auction, and now I feel terrible! First I heard about dear Doris's passing on the radio, and I couldn't believe it! No one knew she was that ill! But when I called the Old Manse to talk to Nathan, the nurse said he was quite ill himself and couldn't speak to anyone!" She stopped to sob. "Perhaps I shouldn't tell you this, Qwill, but I must talk to someone!"

"I understand, Maggie," he said. "Consider me a member of the family."

After a few more tears she felt the strength to go on.

"We were very close - the Sprenkles and the Ledfields - and Nathan once told Jeremy and me in our rose garden, when Doris was having one of her setbacks, that he couldn't live without her. And if anything happened to her, life would have no meaning. He could not go on alone.

"We mumbled words of sympathy and affection, but I have always been haunted by that recollection. I can't help wondering if he'll do something rash. . . ." She burst into tears again.

"It's understandable, Maggie. It was right to share it with me. Have a cup of tea, and remember what Jeremy would say."

"You're right, Qwill. Thank you so much." As she hung up, he could hear one more painful wail.

Koko had been listening, and he rushed around growling before throwing back his head and uttering what Qwilleran had come to know as his death howl.

Before the night was over, Qwilleran's phone rang frequently, as friends felt it their duty to keep him informed:

"The Road Commission is telling drivers to stay off the highway, Qwill."

"The worst is the Bloody Creek Bridge."

"The commission has been promising to fix that death-trap for years. They've had five accidents; how many do they have to have before they act? What am I paying my taxes for?"

That was Junior Goodwinter.

Qwilleran's phone rang repeatedly. Everyone wanted to talk. He had a feeling of foreboding. Even the cats were edgy.

Later Wetherby called.

"Did you hear about the accident at Bloody Creek Bridge? Name withheld. I called the Station, and one of my buddies told me the name of the driver . . . Liz Hart!"

"Where was Derek?"

"They drive separate cars; they work different hours. After working late as maître d', he'll sometimes bunk on a cot at the restaurant so he can do early shopping for groceries the next morning."

"What was she doing on the Bloody Creek Bridge? That's north of here?" Qwilleran asked.

"Interesting question."

"Did the newsbite tell whether the car was traveling north or south?"

"They never give details."

Qwilleran speculated, "If she was northbound, she was going to the Lanspeaks. They live in the Hummocks, and they've been like godparents to both Liz and Derek. And Diane Lanspeak is probably Liz's doctor. . . . If we don't hear any further details, I suppose we could check with them, Joe."

"Liz would want you to know, Qwill. She says you saved her life on Grand Island and were responsible for her coming to Moose County and meeting Derek Cuttlebrink. I understand she comes from a very wealthy family in Chicago, but she was glad to get away from them. Fortunately, she had money from her deceased father."

"Is that so?" Qwilleran murmured, although he knew more than Wetherby did. "Liz gave me an antique chair that belonged to her father. Sitting in it is supposed to improve your intelligence."

"I should borrow it," Wetherby said. "Does it sound as if the wind is picking up again? I'd better go and hold Jet Stream's paw."