PROLOGUE
THE CAT WHO WENT BANANAS
LILIAN JACKSON BRAUN, 2005
Break a leg, Fran, honey!'
'Break a leg, Alden!'
'Break a leg, Derek, old boy!'
It was opening night of the new play in Pickax City (400 miles north of everywhere), and the actors were receiving the traditional bonhomie from well-wishers. The theatre club was doing Oscar Wilde's comedy of absurd upper-class manners: The Importance of Being Earnest.
Fran Brodie, interior designer, was playing Gwendolen. The male lead was being done by Alden Wade, a new man in town. Larry Lanspeak, owner of the department store, was perfect as the butler. And the unbearably haughty Lady Bracknell was being portrayed by Derek Cuttlebrink. It was not unusual for the role to be played by a male actor in drag; the difference here was that Derek, maitre d' at an upscale restaurant, was six foot eight. Carol Lanspeak was directing. Jim Qwilleran would review the play.
Chapter 1
Jim Qwilleran was primarily a columnist for the Moose County Something, but he was more. Previously a crime reporter for major dailies across the continent, he had relocated in the north country when he inherited the vast Klingenschoen fortune. This he immediately turned over to a philanthropic foundation, claiming that he felt uncomfortable with too much money. The K Fund, as it was called, improved schools, medical facilities, and the general quality of life in Moose County, leaving Qwilleran free to mix with the people, listen to their stories write his column, and manage the care and feeding of ray, Siamese cats.
The three of them lived in a converted apple barn on the edge of Pickax City. It was there that Qwilleran was preparing dyer breakfast one day in September, arranging red salmon attractively on two plates with a garnish of crumbled Roquefort. (They were somewhat spoiled.) They sat on top of the bar in two identical bundles of fur, supervising the food preparation.
They were Koko and Yum Yum, well known to readers of the `Qwill Pen' column. The male was lithe, muscular, and cocky: the female smaller and softer and modest, although she could be demanding.
Both had the fawn fur, precise brown points, and blue eyes of the breed . . . as well as the Siamese tendency to voice an opinion on everything; Koko with a vehement 'Yow!' and Yum Yum with a soprano 'Now-ow!'
Just as Qwilleran was placing the two plates on the floor under the kitchen table, Koko's attention jerked away to a spot on the wall. A moment later the wall phone rang.
Before it could ring twice, Qwilleran said pleasantly into the mouthpiece, 'Good morning.'
`You're quick on the trigger, Qwill!' said the well-modulated voice of a woman he knew, Carol Lanspeak.
He explained, 'I have an electronic sensor here. He tells me when the phone is going to ring and even screens incoming calls as acceptable or otherwise. What's on your mind, Carol?'
`Just wanted to ask if you're going to write the programme notes for the new production.'
`Actually, I have another idea I'd like to discuss with you. Will you be in the store this morning?'
`All day! How about coffee and doughnuts at ten o'clock?' `Not today,' he said regretfully. 'I've just had my annual physical, and Dr Diane lectured me on my diet.'
The Lanspeaks were a fourth-generation family in Moose County, dating back to pioneer days. Larry's grandmother ran a general store, selling kerosene, calico, and penny candy. Larry's father started the department store on Main Street. Larry himself, having acting talent, went to New York and had a little success, but then he married an actress and they came back to Pickax to manage the family business and launch a theatre club. Larry's daughter was the medical doctor who advised Qwilleran to consume more broccoli, less coffee - and one banana a day.
After taking leave of the cats, Qwilleran walked downtown to Lanspeak's Department Store. From the barnyard an unpaved road led through a dense patch of woods to the Park Circle, where Main Street divided_ around a small park. On its rim were two churches, the courthouse, the public library, and a huge block of fieldstone that had once been the Klingenschoen mansion.
Now it was a theatre for stage productions, and the headquarters of the Pickax theatre club. Northward, Main Street was a stretch of stone buildings more than a century old - now housing stores, offices, and the newly refurbished Mackintosh Inn.
The Lanspeaks' department store, which had started a century before, advertised 'new-fashioned ideas with old-fashioned service'.
Arriving there, Qwilleran walked between glass cases of jewellery, scarves, handbags, cosmetics, and blouses - to the offices in the rear, bowing to the clerks who hailed him: 'Hi, Mr Q. How's Koko, Mr Q?'
He was known not only for his lively newspaper column and his philanthropy and his Siamese cats, but also for his magnificent pepper-and-salt moustache! It had not been equalled since Mark Twain visited Pickax in 1895. Qwilleran was a well-built six foot two, in his fifties, with a pleasing manner and a mellifluous voice. But it was his impressive moustache and brooding gaze that attracted attention. His photo appeared at the top of each 'Qwill Pen' column.
Both Lanspeaks were working in the office.
Apart from their voice quality, there was nothing about the couple to mark them as actors. There was nothing striking about them, but onstage they could assume different personalities with professional skill. At the moment they were small-town storekeepers.
'Sit down, Qwill. I suppose you're well acquainted with our play,' Larry said.
'We read it in college and went around talking like Lady Bracknell for the rest of the semester. Also, I've seen it performed a couple of times. It's a very stylish comedy. I'm curious to know why you scheduled it for this area - the boondocks, if you'll pardon the expression.'
'Good question!' Larry replied. 'Ask her! Wives sometimes rush in where husbands fear to tread.'
Throwing a humorous smirk in his direction, Carol explained, 'The club presents one classic play every year, and Larry and I happen to agree that Oscar Wilde is one of the wittiest playwrights who ever lived. The Lockmaster group did this play at the Academy of Arts two years ago. Superb! And Alden Wade, who played Jack Worthing, has just relocated in Pickax and joined the theatre club. He's terrifically talented and good-looking!'
'What brought him to Moose County?' Qwilleran asked.
'The tragic loss of his wife,' Carol said. 'He needed a drastic change of scene. It's definitely our gain. And since he has sold his property - a horse farm, I believe - it looks as if he intends to stay.'
'That guy,' Larry interrupted, 'does the stylized upper-crust Jack Worthing so well that the rest of the cast is finding it contagious!'
'We had trouble casting the role of Algemon,' Carol went on, 'so Alden suggested Ronnie Dickson, who played the role in Lockmaster and was willing to help out, even though it's a sixty-mile round-trip drive for every rehearsal - and he hasn't missed a single one.'
'Which is more than I can say for our own people,' Larry added. 'Now all we need to worry about is the audience. They'll he hearing perfectly straight-faced actors speaking outrageous lines. How will they react? I know a few who'll call it silly - and walk out.'
Carol said, 'Most people in Moose County like a laugh, but will they get the point? I'm wondering, Qwill, if you could write the programme notes with that in mind.'
'Precisely why I am here! I've noticed that our audiences never read the programme notes before the show; they're too busy chatting with people they know in the surrounding seats. What they should know - in order to enjoy the play to the fullest - is not read until they get home. So here's my idea: Tuesday, to be exact, I'll devote the Qwill column to an explanation of the ()scar Wilde style.'