First there was a German shepherd from the Moose County sheriff’s department, trained for search and rescue. He had found lost children, missing persons, fugitives, and accident victims. He listened modestly as his handler extolled his intelligence and perseverance. “Henever-gives-up!”
From Bixby County came a black Labrador retriever trained for drug searching. She amused the audience by retrieving a folded towel again and again with unflagging enthusiasm. Her handler said, “In training sessions, narcotics of different kinds are wrapped in the towel. In a drug raid she can spot nine kinds of contraband.”
The audience waited expectantly for another extraordinary dog, when who should amble on stage but the six-foot-eight Derek Cuttlebrink with his guitar. The audience screamed and applauded. After strumming a few chords with a bouncy rhythm, Moose County’s favorite young-man-about-town sang with a nasal twang:
I found my puppy in Pickax At the animal shelter one day.
four
Qwilleran knew what time she would be leaving for work on Monday morning. He waited on his doorstep until her small car backed out of its underground slot, then went to meet her.
She lowered the car window. “Qwill! You can’t imagine how perfect the parrots are on my mantel. Beautiful glaze! Wonderful shade of green! And so tasteful! I can’t help wondering who donated them.”
“I’m curious about the Danish rug. No one in this neck of the woods has any contemporary. Where has it been for the last fifty years? It accomplishes what Fran wanted; it sparks the whole room. She’s sending over a few more items with decorative pizzazz.”
“Have the cats pronounced their verdict about the rug?” Polly asked.
“The jury is still out. They’ll have to deliberate for a couple of days… . But on a serious note, Polly, have you heard about Eddington Smith? It was on the air.”
“I haven’t been listening.”
“He died yesterday. Heart attack.”
“Oh, that dear man!” Polly said. “He was approaching eighty and was never healthy, but he did all the repairs and bookbinding for the library-in that stuffy back room. We shall miss him.”
“I stayed up half the night writing his obituary,” Qwilleran said, “and I must admit it’s one of my better pieces of funerary prose. Would your board of directors consider a memorial to Eddington-an annual scholarship or essay contest for the lower grades, or both? The K Fund would go fifty-fifty.”
“Definitely. I’ll call a special meeting tonight.”
“Be sure to send a release to the newspaper.”
“I will…. What are you doing today, Qwill?”
“Just puttering around.”
When the black commercial van came slowly down River Road, Yum Yum disappeared, but Koko hopped on and off the windows ill in excitement, as if he knew this was an authorized delivery. The door of the van was tastefully lettered in gold: Amanda’s Studio of Interior Design. The driver was a big, blond fellow in a black nylon jacket lettered on the back: MUDVILLE CURLERS.
Qwilleran went out to meet him. “Are you on the curling team in Sawdust City?”
“Yep,” said the young man as he started to unload.
“I hear that’s quite an interesting sport.”
“Yep.”
First he brought in the square brown lampshade for the square-based copper lamp. It was obviously ten times better than the former shade, which was round and ivory-colored.
Next came the bowl of shiny red apples and the pair of red pillows for the sofa, followed by a crate of five plant pots filled with red geraniums.
“What are those?” asked the surprised customer.
“Plants. She said to put them up there on the top railing.”
“On the balcony?”
“That’s what she said.”
The pots were placed at intervals of about a foot. Fran always insisted that four are better than three, and five are better than four. She never stated her reasoning; anyone as attractive and talented as Fran needed no reasons.
Finally came the wall hanging, measuring three-by-four. It covered much of the brick chimney breast-a stylized nature study of two red-breasted robins tugging a worm out of a lawn. Everything was superscale: the robins in the foreground as big as turkeys, the green leaves in the background as big as a pizza, and the worm as big as a salami.
After hanging it and checking it with a small level, the installer stood back to survey it. “Cool!” he said to Qwilleran. “They’re robins.”
“They’re big enough to be turkeys,” Qwilleran observed.
“Yeah. Artists do crazy things like that.”
Qwilleran did his puttering at the office of the Moose County Something, when he handed in copy
for the obituary. He scanned page proofs, and checked photos and final drafts. There were photos of ten mines and five direct descendants…. Coverage on the silent auction included shots of Derek Cuttlebrink and the two G-dogs, as well as a satisfied customer carrying away a rocking chair….. Eddington Smith’s farewell ran on the obituary page with a photo of the store and a photo-file shot of the late bookseller.
Only Qwilleran knew the story behind the story of the motorcade: the politicians’ speeches getting shorter and shorter, dignitaries refusing to leave the limousines, the county historian asleep on a backseat, nine wreaths for ten mines, and a direct descendant taking potshots at everyone with his index finger. Ping! And more!
In the column of news briefs on the business page Qwilleran found three items of note:
The Pickax shop of Exbridge & Cobb, Fine Antiques, has achieved the longtime goal of Susan Exbridge: acceptance as an exhibitor at the Eastside Settlement House Antique Show in New York, one of the most prestigious in the country.
Theo Morghan, M.D., and David Todd, M.D., both of Chicago, have arrived here to open the Moose County Dermatology Clinic in the medical center. Specialties are skin diseases, plastic surgery, and liposuction.
Donald Exbridge, CEO of XYZ Enterprises, announces the dissolution of the eight-year-old corporation and the formation of a new enterprise: Donex &. Associates. The move coincides with the resignation of two principals: Henry Zoller is retiring, and Caspar Young will establish his own construction business. The flagship development of XYZ, Indian Village, will continue under the management of Donex.
The new Pet Plaza in Kennebeck is booked to capacity for October. According to a spokesperson, it is “designed for pet owners who feel guilty about leaving their loved ones in a boarding kennel while they take luxury cruises.” Reservations are being accepted for November.
Qwilleran enjoyed a few chuckles over the news briefs. They had been slyly edited with Don Exbridge’s ex-wife as the lead item, while Don’s new firm was sandwiched between skin diseases and animal hospitality. Had the billboard prank caused the upheaval? Who were the unnamed associates?
It was a good excuse to visit Susan Exbridge’s shop on Main Street.
“Darling! How wonderful to see you!” she exclaimed in the dramatic manner she affected. “Did you come to spend money or scrounge a cup of coffee?”
“Thelatter. I’m honest to a fault… . Also I want to congratulate you on making the New York show. Your late partner would be proud of you.”
“Thankyou. The show is too grand for words.” He followed her to the office, through an aisle of polished mahogany and brass.
“Do you want your coffee black?”
“Please … There was another interesting item on the business page today. What do you suppose Donex & Associates have up their corporate sleeve?”
“Nothing entirely honorable, I’m sure.”