Qwilleran was only too happy to drive her home; he had a question to ask: 'Have you met Alden Wade? He has a strong presence onstage; what is he like as a person?'
`He's charming!' she said. 'And so helpful! Although he's hired to do specific things for the bookstore, he comes downstairs to ask if he can do anything for the ESP. And that's not all! A couple of weeks ago he brought me a long-stemmed red rose in a bud vase and told me to watch it open day by day. He said it's inspirational! . . . Then I found out that he gave Polly one! And also Violet, his landlady! I think that was very sweet of him, and it makes me think he's lonely.'
Or he's covering all the bases, Qwilleran thought. Then he wondered why Polly had not mentioned the rose during one of their nightly phone chats. And he speculated about the rumour that Alden Wade was buying Unit Two. Perhaps he had looked at it just to please Polly. Perhaps she had suggested it!
`Well, thanks for the lift, Qwill,' Lisa said, 'and while you're here, let me give you a copy of our rare-book list. Tell me if you want to buy the Dr Seuss for Koko.'
He drove home and found two hungry cats looking aggrieved because their dinner was late.
`Sorry!' he said. 'But wait till you see what Mildred has sent you!'
The square plastic box contained not only the leftover casserole for the Siamese but a few items for human consumption: cookies, dinner rolls, apples, and two bananas past their prime.
Qwilleran divided the mysterious casserole between the two dishes under the kitchen table and stood by to observe their rapturous gobbling. Instead, they sniffed their plates and walked away, flicking their tails in irritation.
`Please!' Qwilleran protested. 'You're entitled to your opinion, but this is going too far!'
He knew they would gobble Mildred's delicacies as soon as his back was turned.
Later that evening Qwilleran sprawled in his favourite thinking chair and considered Susan Exbridge, the individual whose arm he was expected to twist.
He jerked to attention for a moment as he heard Koko's gut-wrenching howl that had come to be known as his 'death howl'. More likely, he decided, it was evidence of catly indigestion following the mysterious casserole.
Susan Exbridge was a character, no doubt about it! She amused him with her pretensions and affectations, and he enjoyed teasing her and scolding her occasionally. He could get away with it because of his connection with the K Fund.
Susan had a great respect for money. In Pickax she was considered a snob. She received a goodly amount of alimony, bought her clothes in Chicago, and drove a status car. Her shop, Exbridge & Cobb Fine Antiques, was so high-toned that locals were afraid to enter - except to hurry to the annex, where the primitives were kept, huddled together like poor relations. They were the collection of the late Iris Cobb, who had left them to her partner. Mrs Cobb's extensive library of books on antiques now filled the shelves in Susan's office, although Polly said Mrs Exbridge had never read a book in her life. There was a slight clash of personalities here, no doubt exacerbated by Susan's custom of greeting Qwilleran with an effusive 'dahling'.
Now he had to convince her to donate the jelly cupboard to a good cause. The K Fund could contribute it easily, but the idea was to teach Susan a lesson in community involvement.
The easy way would be to storm into her shop and say, 'Susan! I hear you're selling Mrs Cobb's jelly cupboard to the ESP! Isn't that rather shoddy business? After all, it was Mrs Cobb's, and you didn't pay a penny for it! Your rich friends are donating five-thousand-dollar books! Surely you could manage a three-thousand-dollar jelly cupboard . . . You know, you can take it as a tax deduction.'
A confrontation would be easy and effective but too obvious. He would prefer something more subtle, even devious.
Then he thought of the Moose County method of making things happen: spread the rumour and, before anyone knows, it's a fact.
He phoned Polly Duncan. First he listened patiently to the details of organizing her winter wardrobe. Then he described the impromptu dinner she had missed, adding, 'And by the way, I heard some surprising news! Susan Exbridge is donating a three-thousand-dollar cabinet to the ESP!'
`I can't believe it!' Polly cried. 'She never gives anything away! And she always referred to Eddington as "that dreadful little man". How do you explain it, Qwill?'
`Hard to say. You might check it out with some of your sources. It's certainly good news - if it's true.'
'I'll make a few calls right away. Hang up, dear! Thanks for letting me know . . . A bientôt!
A bientôt.
Qwilleran hung up with satisfaction. In the morning he would visit Susan's shop and congratulate her.
Having plotted the jelly cupboard strategy to his satisfaction, he tuned in WPKX and heard a bulletin that snapped him to attention: a fatal car accident at the Black Creek bridge at eight-fifteen P.M. That was the precise moment that Koko had uttered his ominous howl. It had nothing to do with feline indigestion: it was Koko's death howl. Qwilleran had heard it many times before. It always signified wrongful death. The victim's name was not released in the bulletin.
Chapter 6
It was early Monday morning. Qwilleran was groggily pressing the button on his automated coffeemaker. The cats were staggering down the ramp from their sleeping quarters on the third balcony — stretching, yawning, waking up their fur with electrifying shudders.
He had forgotten about the WPKX news bulletin until Carol Lanspeak phoned. 'Qwill! Did you hear about the accident last night? The victim's name has just been released! It was Ronnie. It was our Ronnie! You know — Ronald Dickson, who played Algernon! I feel terrible about it — such a nice young man — and he was going to be married soon.'
`Sad news,' Qwilleran murmured. 'What were the circumstances? Does anyone know?'
`A few members of the cast went to Onoosh's to celebrate after the matinee. Ronnie had to drive hack to Lockmaster. He missed the curve at the bridge. We're cancelling all performances and refunding ticket money. Will your review be running today —anyway?'
`On the entertainment page, but call the city desk immediately and request a front-page bulletin: all performances cancelled owing to the death of a member of the cast. And when I file my copy this morning, I'll check to see that the bulletin gets a prominent position.'
When domestic matters at the barn were resolved to the satisfaction of all concerned, Qwilleran drove to the office of the Something to file his review of the play. Walking down the long corridor to the managing editor's office, he said 'Hi!' to a young man hurrying in the opposite direction with a fistful of proofs — the new copyboy, apparently. Only copyboys hurried. This one had a beard, and longer hair than was usual.
`New copyboy?' Qwilleran said to Junior Goodwinter.
`Copy facilitator,' Junior corrected him.
`Isn't he rather hirsute?'
Times have changed since you hacked for a living . . . Is that your review of the play?'
Qwilleran handed him his copy. Did you and Jody see the production?'
`Sunday afternoon. We thought it was great! Rotten news about the fatal accident. We're running a bulletin in a black border on the front page. Obit tomorrow. Who's the best source of information?'
`Wetherby Goode at WPKX and Alden Wade at the bookstore.'
`And what's the topic for tomorrow's "Qwill Pen"?'
`A brief history of literacy in Moose County — leading into community involvement in the ESP.'
Junior said, 'This is a big week for Moose County! Dwight Somers guarantees we'll get national coverage. Roger, Bushy, and Jill will cover the press preview for us and we'll give it the front page and picture page on Friday.'