Braun, Lilian Jackson - The Cat... Who 20 - The Cat Who Sang For The Birds by Braun Lilian Jackson

Author:Braun, Lilian Jackson [Braun, Lilian Jackson]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Qwilleran; Jim (Fictitious Character), Journalists, Mystery & Detective, Political, Fiction, Cats, Siamese Cat, Yum Yum (Fictitious Character : Braun), Koko (Fictitious Character), General
ISBN: 9780515124637
Google: xZu8PXb7iuQC
Amazon: 051512463X
Publisher: Jove
Published: 1998-01-02T08:00:00+00:00

On the way home Qwilleran wondered about the viper—or was it a serpent?—who had ruined Duff Campbell's family and was now about to be Derek's employer. How this ruin had been accomplished was a tantalizing question, and unanswered questions bothered Qwilleran more than hunger, thirst, or deerflies. Any inquiry had to be handled with circumspection. In no way did he want to be associated with such a nosey search. He was too prominent a figure in the community, and anything he did or said was bandied about with glee.

Amanda Goodwinter might know the answer. She was a politician herself and a foe of Chester Ramsbottom for some unexplained reason. She was city; he was county.

Or Fran Brodie, the police chiefs daughter, could be approached in strict confidence... but she was still on vacation.

Or Brodie himself might talk if invited over for a nightcap.

Or Polly could sound out her assistant, who was an encyclopedia of local secrets.

Or Lisa Compton would definitely know. Her maiden name was Campbell, but would she talk? Celia Robinson could get her to talk. They both worked at the Senior Care Facility—Celia as a volunteer—and they were good friends. Furthermore, Celia liked undercover assignments. Celia was the solution.

Arriving at the barn, Qwilleran found Yum Yum rifling wastebaskets and Koko watching crows through the foyer window.

"Treat!" he announced, and the two responded at once, racing to the kitchen and colliding broadside.

After they had crunched their Kabibbles, he produced Elizabeth's yo-yo and bounced it up and down for their amusement, saying, "A friend of yours sent this to you. Jump for it!" They followed the rise and fall of his hand with dreamy inattention, sitting side by side on their briskets. They were only mildly curious about this latest eccentricity of the person who provided their bed and board.

"Come on! Let's play! Jump! Oompah! Oompah!"

They looked at each other as if questioning his sanity. "Cats!" he muttered and threw the yo-yo into the wastebasket.

It was Saturday; Polly would have had her first session with the portrait artist, wearing her blue silk dress, sitting in a highback Windsor in front of leather-bound books inherited from the family of her late husband, and holding a volume of Hamlet. Even before the picture was painted, Qwilleran could see it in his mind's eye, and he was eager to hear the details of its making.

Meanwhile, a phone call from Celia Robinson demanded his attention. "Are you there?" she asked.

"No, I'm only a reasonable facsimile of the person you called."

Her shrill laughter made him move the receiver away from his ear. "I have some things for you, Chief. Okay if I bring them down there now?"

"Please do, and I hope you can stay for a glass of fruit juice."

The Siamese knew she was driving through the evergreen woods long before the little red car appeared.

Qwilleran went out to meet her. "Look in the backseat," she said. "It's my brother-in-law's picture, and I've got some things for your freezer. Are you going to show me the picture?.

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