"Stormy weather could stand for dissension, mistakes, accidents, or whatever.
" "Too bad I didn't know before I paid my money." "You're not taking this seriously, Qwill." "Sorry. I didn't mean to sound flippant." "This final card... is not auspicious... You might consider it a warning." The card showed a scene in a grape arbor, with a woman in flowing robes, a bird perched on her wrist, and a scattering of gold coins.
"Looks like a happy card to me," Qwilleran observed.
"But it's reversed." "Meaning..." "Some kind of fraud... or treachery." "Yowl" said Koko.
"In conclusion... I urge you to be prepared... for the unexpected." Mildred always became short of breath toward the end of a reading, and her energy flagged, so Qwilleran thought it best not to pursue the subject.
"Very interesting. Thank you," he said as he turned off the tape recorder. Mildred walked away from the table and took a few deep breaths. When she recovered, she said, "I'll look forward to hearing the outcome." "So will I!" Qwilleran admitted.
"When do you leave?" "I catch the shuttle to Chicago tomorrow noon, and the international flight leaves at six P.M. After changing planes at Heathrow and going through the formalities, I should arrive in Glasgow at ten A.M." their time. I'm leaving a list of telephone numbers where we can be reached, and don't hesitate to call if there's an emergency. Mildred, you don't realize how much this is appreciated by all three of us." "The pleasure is all mine.
We'll have a ball, won't we, cats?" "Yowl" said Koko, squeezing his eyes as if visions of shrimp Newburgh danced in his head.
The next morning Qwilleran said a regretful goodbye to the cats and looked back as he walked out the door to see two pairs of large blue eyes filled with concern. He would have wished for a more cheerful send-off. And when he drove away he was aware of two tiny creatures watching him from an upper level of the huge barn. At the Moose County Airport he parked his car in the new indoor facility, and the shuttle plane departed without requiring the usual last-minute repairs. The connection in Chicago went smoothly, perhaps too smoothly. Three meals and several magazines later, he arrived in Glasgow on schedule. His luggage was flown, unfortunately, to another city in Western Europe. So began the Bonnie Scots Tour.
Three
By the time the participants in the Bonnie Scots Tour gathered for the Happy Hour on the eve of Day One, Qwilleran had recovered from jet lag, retrieved his luggage, and paid homage to Charles Rennie Mackintosh.
Throughout the day other travelers from Moose County had been straggling wearily into the centrally located hotel selected for the jumping-off place. At six o'clock Qwilleran--dressed in blazer, shirt, and tie according to instructions from Sergeant Hasselrich--reported to the hotel lobby and found it bright with kilts worn by males of all ages; there was a wedding reception in the banquet hall. The Bonnie Scots party was scheduled for the Robert Burns parlor, which was no different from the Sir Walter Scott Parlor or the Bonnie Prince Charlie Parlor or the Robert Louis Stevenson Parlor, except for a portrait of the poet hanging above the bar. When Qwilleran entered, a white-coated young man with red hair was circulating with a tray of champagne and orange juice.
Among the guests already on hand were Larry and Carol Lanspeak, the most likable couple in Pickax. They were civic leaders, owners of the Lanspeak Department Store, and mainstays in the Theatre Club.
Qwilleran approached them, saying, "All hail, Macbeth! Hail to thee, Thane of Cawdor!" "Dammit! It means growing a beard again," said the actor ruefully, rubbing his chin.
"First it's Henry VIII, then Abe Lincoln, and now this. How come I never get a chance to play Peter Pan?" He was a mild-mannered man, difficult to imagine as the murderous Macbeth. Carol said, "Qwill, this is Dwight Somers, who's directing Macbeth. I don't think you two have met... Dwight, Jim Qwilleran is better known as Qwill. You've seen his column, "Straight from the Qwill Pen," in the paper." "I've heard a lot about you," said the man with the neatly clipped beard, "and I enjoy your column. It's always right on." "Thanks. You're new in Moose County. Where do you hail from?" "Most recently, from Iowa. Should I read that line with pride or apology?" "There's nothing wrong with Iowa that couldn't be fixed with a few Wisconsin lakes and Pennsylvania mountains," Qwilleran said encouragingly. He liked Dwight Somers on sight; the man exuded an inner energy characteristic of theatre people. And his compliments did not go unnoticed; Qwilleran was vain about his writing. The foursome was joined by the other couple, the Comptons. Lyle was the tall, lanky, saturnine superintendent of schools; Lisa, who worked for Social Services, had dancing eyes and a sense of humor that contrasted with her husband's dour demeanor. She asked, "Who's taking care of your cats, Qwill?" "Mildred Hanstable. I hope she doesn't overfeed them.
They're con artists when it comes to food... Are you two ready for a happy adventure in the Highlands?" With his usual scowl Lyle said, "I'm going to be happy if it kills me!" A young man with thinning hair walked into the parlor, a camera slung over his shoulder, and Qwilleran introduced him as the photographer from Lockmaster, John Bushland.
"Call me Bushy," he said congenially, stroking his nearly bald head.
"How come you brought your camera and not your wife, Bushy?" "Well, you see, Vicki started a catering service this summer, and she has bookings she can't cancel. What did you do about the cats, Qwill?" "They're holding the fort in Pickax, with a live-in cook to cater their meals. I hated to leave them. I left some of my old sweaters lying around, so they can sit on them and not feel abandoned." "That's thoughtful of you," said Carol Lanspeak, "but I suspect you'll miss the cats more than they'll miss you." "You don't need to tell me that, Carol. I've been bluffed and bullied by those two opportunists long enough to know." Gradually the others arrived-the women in skirts and heels, the men in coats and ties. Mr.
and Mrs. MacWhannell were a quiet couple, stiffly formal--a tall, portly man and a tiny birdlike woman. Arch Riker and Amanda Goodwinter had obviously had a head start at a pub. Irma and Polly arrived with a large map of Scotland, which the red-haired waiter hung on the wall.
Irma was, indeed, meticulously dressed and groomed, and her statuesque figure had a polished perfection that put the other women at a disadvantage. The map was an instant attraction, especially the west coast, fringed with firths, lochs, ky les and isles.
"Caused by glacial movement in the Ice Age," the leader explained with authority. Someone asked, "How big is Scotland?" Before Irma could answer, a man's voice came from the rear of the group--the chesty voice that goes with a portly figure.
"The country is 30,414 square miles, smaller than South Carolina." Everyone turned to gaze in speechless wonder at Whannell MacWhannell, accountant. In a small, fearful voice his wife asked him, "Do we have to drive over any mountains, Daddy?" "Not big ones, Mother," he assured her. Amanda whispered, "Aren't they a sweet couple? I may throw up!" The map brought forth a variety of comments: "Look! There's the famous Loch Lomond!" "Hope we see the Loch Ness monster." "Where are the distilleries?" The deep voice in the rear said, "There's a famous railway bridge over the Firth of Forth, with two spans of 1,710 feet each and two of 690 feet. The tracks are 157 feet above the water." Amanda groaned.
"Big Mac is going to be the official bore on this trip." Someone said quietly, "Put on your sunglasses, everybody.
Here come the Chisholm sisters." The two women who entered the parlor were older than the others in the group, both having white hair. One walked a few steps behind the other. In the lead was a short, stocky woman wearing a dazzling array of jewelry, her bosomy figure displaying it like a jeweler's velvet tray. Carol confided to Qwilleran in a whisper, "It's all the real thing! You should see her on Saturday night at the country club! She and Zella also collect teddy bears on a large scale." He was no connoisseur of jewelry, but he was impressed by the strands of pearls twisted with chunky gold chains and clasped at the left collarbone with a spray of diamonds.