"I mentioned it to Melinda, and she said it wouldn't do any harm but probably wouldn't do any good, either.
Nevertheless, I intend to try it... Have you made your packing list, Qwill?" "I never make a list. I just throw stuff into my suitcase." "You're singularly offhand, dear! I make a list and take only basic colors, double-duty garments, minimal accessories, and just enough toothpaste, face cream, and shampoo for fourteen days." "You're singularly efficient," he retorted dryly.
"No wonder the library operates so smoothly." "Have you done any of Irma's suggested reading?" "No, but Edd Smith sold me a book with a fold-out map of Scotland. As soon as I opened the map, both cats came running and pounced in the middle of it, tearing it along the old yellowed creases and making a horrible muddle, as Old Possum would say. I hope it was not a prediction that our trip is going to be a horrible muddle." "With Irma in charge, have no fear!" Polly assured him.
During the summer, following that accidental meeting with Melinda at Tipsy's Tavern, Qwilleran received several phone calls from her, making unacceptable suggestions that he found annoying. He solved that problem by screening calls through his answering machine, but the proximity of two weeks in a minibus could lead to murder, he reflected with testy humor. Eventually the final orders came from Sergeant Hasselrich, as Lyle Compton called her: "The evening before Day One we shall gather in a private parlor at our Glasgow hotel (see itinerary) for a Happy Hour from six to seven o'clock, after which you will be on your own for dinner. The tour will depart the next morning after a lavish Scottish breakfast (included in your tour package)." There followed a list of participants in alphabetical order: John Bushland Ms. Zella Chisholm Mr. and Mrs. Lyle Compton (lisa) Mrs. Polly Duncan Ms. Amanda Goodwinter Dr. Melinda Goodwinter Ms.
Irma Hasselrich Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence Lanspeak (carol) Mr. and Mrs.
Whannell MacWhannell glen da James Qwilleran Archibald Riker Dwight Somers Mrs. Grace Chisholm Utley Qwilleran showed the list to Mildred Hanstable when she arrived at the barn for her briefing prior to cat-sitting with their Royal Highnesses.
She arrived in a cloud of fluttering gauze garments that did nothing to minimize her corpulence but gave her the majesty of a clipper ship in full sail. The Siamese greeted her with enthusiasm, knowing her as the source of their crunchy treats. Mildred perused the list of names and predicted, "Interesting group! Lyle is a certified sourpuss, but nice... Amanda has foot-in-mouth disease, which can be very funny at times... Irma is so fastidious, she'll probably inspect everyone's fingernails before breakfast... Let me know how you like the Chisholm sisters." "Do they sing?" "You don't know them, Qwill, because you don't belong to the country club.
Grace is a rich widow, and her unmarried sister lives with her on Goodwinter Boulevard. They collect teddy bears." "May I offer you a drink, Mildred?" "Make it coffee," she said.
"I've brought some cookies. But first show me the ropes." As he conducted her up the ramp to the three balconies, they were followed by two inquisitive cats with stiffly vertical tails and stiffly horizontal whiskers. He explained, "My bedroom and studio are on the first balcony. The door is closed to keep the cats out, because Koko licks postage stamps and gummed envelopes... The guest room is on the second balcony. I suggest you lock up your toothbrush. Yum Yum has a brush fetish; she'd steal my moustache if it weren't firmly attached... I regret that the only television is in the cats' loft on the top balcony." "Don't apologize. I'll just set up my quilting frame on the main floor and listen to radio," she said.
"How often are the cats fed?" "Morning and evening, plus a handful of your crunchy cereal at noon and bedtime. You'll find canned and frozen delicacies for them in the kitchen." "To tell the truth, I'd rather cook for them," Mildred said.
"I really would! I miss having someone to cook for. What other care do they require?" "They appreciate brushing once a day, and intelligent conversation, and a little entertainment. Koko prefers activities that challenge his intellect; he's a very cerebral animal.
" As they both turned to look at him in admiration, Kao K'o Kung rolled over and groomed the base of his tail.
"Forget I said that," Qwilleran added.
"That scoundrel likes to make a fool of me." Mildred picked up the female cat, who was now rubbing against her ankles. They were slender and shapely, he noted, for a woman of her weight.
"Yum Yum is so hug gable she said.
"Yes, propinquity is her middle name... And now let me demonstrate the fine art of policing their commode." After the briefing they sat in the lounge area with coffee and Mildred's date-nut bars. Massive, square-cut, deep cushioned chairs and sofas were arranged around a large square coffee table, facing the fireplace cube--a large white monolith with fireplaces on two sides and bookshelves on a third. It was high enough for two Siamese cats to perch like Olympian deities, looking down on the mere mortals below.
"Now, is there anything else I should know?" Mildred asked.
"Mrs. Fulgrove comes in once a week for light cleaning. Mr. O'Dell is our handyman. We have a colony of fruit flies that came with the apple barn, and they come out of hibernation at this time of year. Koko catches them on the wing and munches them as hors d'oeuvres.... I guess that's about all." "And tell me what you're going to do in Scotland." "Listen to bagpipes, stay in country inns, visit castles, eat haggis--all the usual, I imagine." "Ugh! Haggis is the innards of sheep, boiled and cut up and mixed with oatmeal and spices, then sewn into a sheep's stomach.
" "Sounds delicious." Mildred's attitude turned suddenly sober.
"Before coming over here," she said, "I read the tarot cards for you, and I think you ought to know what they revealed." "It doesn't sound propitious, but let's hear it." Qwilleran was skeptical about card reading, palmistry, and all the occult sciences that interested his plump friend, but she was sincere, and he always humored her.
"Do you mind if I tape this, Mildred?" "Not at all. I wish you would." He had already turned on his pocket-size recorder.
"What did you learn?" "Strangely, when I asked the cards about you," she began, "the answers concerned someone else-someone in danger." "Man or woman?" "A mature woman. A woman with strict habits and upright values." That's Polly, Qwilleran thought; someone has told Mildred about the prowler.
"What kind of danger?" he asked.
"Well, the cards were rather vague, so I brought the pack with me, and I'd like to do another reading-in your presence." With mental reservations, he agreed, and they moved to the card table, Qwilleran politely averting his eyes as Mildred struggled to get out of the deep-seated lounge chair. When she asked him to shuffle the pack, Koko hopped to the table with an excited "Yowl" "Want me to lock him up, Mildred?" Qwilleran suggested.
"No, let him watch." She was laying out a certain number of cards in a certain pattern.
"I'm using the Celtic pattern for this reading. This card is the significat or They were colorful cards in fanciful designs, and as she manipulated them she mumbled to herself. There was a thoughtful pause.
Then she said, "I see a journey... a journey across water... with stormy weather ahead." "Glad I packed my raincoat," he said lightly.