"A drum, a drum!
Macbeth doth come!" A murmur rippled through the audience when Larry made his entrance, proclaiming in his great voice, "So foul and fair a day I have not seen." Two scenes later, when Melinda entered as Lady Macbeth, the audience gasped at her costume-sweeping robes of what looked like fur, and a jeweled wimple. When she began her monologue, however, Qwilleran and Polly exchanged brief glances; her delivery lacked energy. Still, act one kept the audience on the edge of their seats: the king murdered by Macbeth... the two grooms murdered as a cover-up... alarm bells and bloody daggers. There was a moment's comic relief when Derek Cuttlebrink telescoped his youth and height into the arthritic shape of an ancient porter.
"Knock, knock, knock! Who's there?" At intermission it was the French fry chef from the Old Stone Mill who was the topic of conversation in the lobby. When Qwilleran spoke to the Comptons, Lyle said, "I think Macbeth was written for bumper stickers: What's done is done! ... Out, out, brief candle... Lay on, Macduff!" Lisa said, "Qwill, how do you like Melinda. I think she's dragging." Her husband agreed.
"The sleepwalking scene is supposed to come in act two. She played it in act one." Most of the audience, while waiting for flashing lights to signal them back into their the seats, spoke of other things, as small-town audiences do: "Hey, what did you think about the teddy bear heist?" ... "Everybody on Goodwinter Boulevard is blowing their stack after that sale!" Nick and Lori Bamba were there, and Nick whispered something in Qwilleran's ear that he remembered later. In the second act the weird music accompanied the witches' dance around the cauldron.
"Thrice the brinded cat hath mew'd!" Macbeth, suffering from strange diseases and seeing ghosts, was going mad. Lady Macbeth walked in her sleep, plagued by visions of bloody hands.
"Out, damned spot! Out, I say!" To make matters worse, their castle was besieged by an army of ten thousand soldiers. While waiting for his favorite line--Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, creeps in this petty pace from day to day--Qwilleran began to feel uncomfortable. He found himself staring at the stage without seeing it. Then a chilling shriek of women's voices came from the wings. He clapped his hand to his moustache and half rose from his seat, whispering to Polly.
"Tell Arch to drive you home!" A second later he was walking quickly up the aisle. On the stage, Macbeth was saying, "Wherefore was that cry?" And an attendant replied, "The Queen, my lord, is dead!" Neither line was heard by Qwilleran. He was running across the theatre parking lot to his car. He drove through the woods at the rear, and as he approached the barn, he could see the long orchard trail and red taillights receding at the far end of it. The barn's automatic lights were on, indoors and out, but he beamed his headlights on the rear entrance and found the glass panel in the door shattered.
Jumping out of his car he hurried into the kitchen. The first thing he saw was blood on the earthen tile floor.
"Koko!" he shouted. The cat was sitting on top of the refrigerator, methodically licking his paws with toes spread wide and claws extended.
For one moment, Qwilleran thought he had attacked the intruder and driven him away.
Yet, there was too much blood for ordinary cat scratches. More likely the housebreaker suffered gashes from broken glass. He phoned the police from the kitchen, and the patrol car reported immediately, with the state police not far behind. A Ban dE at the Qwilleran barn had top priority. By the time they arrived, he had assessed the damage: "Broken window, forced entry, two items missing," he reported.
"One is a combination radio and cassette player. The other is a carrying case of cassettes--all spoken tapes from my trip to Scotland plus interviews conducted around Moose County. The tapes would be of no value to anyone, unless he wanted to suppress the material contained, and that's highly unlikely." Or is it? he wondered, almost at the same moment. One of the officers said, "They thought it was country music or rock. Cassettes are like candy to the kids." "You think it was a juvenile break-in?" Qwilleran asked.
"It happened just before I arrived home. I saw a car leaving through the orchard and turning right on Trevelyan. Either I interrupted them, or they had taken what they came for. The equipment was on my desk, visible through the windows. The interior lights came on automatically at dusk." "You should keep the shades pulled when you go out," the officer advised.
"Lotta nice stuff here." "I guess you're right. What's happening to Pickax? Petty thieves.
master burglars... prowlers..." "The town's growing. New people coming in.
We were on TV last week." Koko was watching the police stoically from the top of the refrigerator, and one of them, feeling eyes boring into the back of his head, turned suddenly and asked, "Is that the cat Brodie talks about?" As soon as they were off the premises, however, Koko's cool behavior changed. He uttered a loud wail from the pit of his stomach, ending in a falsetto shriek.
"For God's sake! What's that about?" Qwilleran gasped. And then he shouted in alarm, "Where's Yum Yum?" She had a dozen secret hiding places and was known to evaporate when strangers came to the house.
"TREAT!" Qwilleran shouted and then listened for the soft thumps meaning a cat had jumped down from a perch. There was a hollow silence.
"TREAT!" His voice reverberated among the beams and balconies, but there was no soft patter of bounding feet. Even Koko was ignoring the irresistible T word; he sat on the refrigerator as if petrified.
Qwilleran peeled off his coat and tie, grabbed a highpowered flashlight from the broom closet, and raced to the upper level to begin a frantic search of every known hiding place, every crevice in the radiating beams, under and over every piece of furniture, inside every drawer and closet... all the while calling her name. He didn't see the headlights approaching the barn through the woods, but he heard the pounding on what remained of the back door. Looking over the balcony railing, he saw Nick and Lori Bamba wandering inquisitively into the kitchen.
"Is this blood on the floor?" Nick was asking.
"What's wrong with Koko?" Lori was saying.
As Qwilleran walked down the ramp, flashlight in hand, Nick called up to him, "I picked up the Ban dE on my police band when we left the theatre. How bad is it?" Qwilleran could hardly force himself to say what he was thinking.
"It looks... as if... they've stolen Yum Yum.
" "Stolen Yum Yum!" they echoed in shocked unison.
"The police were here, and I reported the theft of a radio and cassettes. I didn't know then that she was missing. I've searched everywhere. I'm convinced she's gone. There's an emptiness when she's not here." He stooped and picked up a stray emery board and snapped it in two.
"Koko knows something's radically wrong. He knows she's gone." "Why would they take her?" Lori wondered. That was something Qwilleran preferred not to contemplate. He walked aimlessly back and forth, pounding his moustache. Nick headed for the phone.
"I'm going to call the police again." Qwilleran and the cat on the refrigerator had been staring at each other.
"One minute, Nick!" he said.
"At the theatre you mentioned you'd seen the prowler again." "Yes, today.
His car was parked outside the Dimsdale Diner, so I went in and sat at the counter next to this bearded guy. The cook called him Chuck.
I talked about fishing and baseball, but he didn't respond. I got the impression he wasn't tightly wound, or else he was stoned. I'm sure he hangs out in Shantytown." "Let's go out there," Qwilleran said impulsively, reaching for a jacket.