Braun, Lilian Jackson - The Cat... Who 26 - The Cat Who Talked Turkey by Braun Lilian Jackson

Braun, Lilian Jackson - The Cat... Who 26 - The Cat Who Talked Turkey by Braun Lilian Jackson

Author:Braun, Lilian Jackson [Braun, Lilian Jackson]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Crime
ISBN: 9781594130731
Publisher: Putnam
Published: 2003-01-02T00:00:00+00:00


Chapter 9

As Qwilleran was leaving the barn Tuesday morning, he was accompanied to the exit by the Siamese, who sat on their haunches and awaited his farewell as if they knew what he was saying. He always told them where he was going, what he would be doing, and when he would return. After he left, they would race around the barn, whisking papers off the desk and overturning wastebaskets. As Cool Koko would say, When the man’s away, the cats will play.

Qwilleran drove to the town of Brrr, which he knew only for its superlative burgers at the Black Bear Café in the Hotel Booze. For the first time he noticed the small park across the street, with its modest fountain and uncomfortable benches on which no one cared to sit.

His curiosity aroused, Qwilleran drove around town and saw a thriving business district . . . a monument to the Scots who founded the town . . . a fringe of residential streets . . . and the broad avenue known as the Parkway. It was lined with stone residences of impressive size, built in the nineteenth century, and at the very end, gleaming like a beacon in the sunlight, was the white frame replica of Mount Vernon, built by the second Dr. Carroll. It had the red roof and broad lawns of the original, but the grass needed cutting.

Qwilleran’s real reason for visiting Brrr was to meet Maxine Pratt, who would now handle the sound effects for the show. He drove down a side street that circled the hotel and sloped down to the harbor. On the boardwalk a young woman in yachting cap and royal-blue jumpsuit was giving orders to a young blond giant grasping a hammer. He nodded as she pointed and explained, and then he trotted down the pier to fix loose boards.

The woman turned and saw the famous moustache. “Qwill!” she cried.

“Are you Gary’s wife,” he asked, “or are you wearing her jumpsuit?” The name “Maxine” was embroidered on the breast pocket.

“Gary has told me so much about you!”

“Why is a nice woman like you married to that hairy brute?”

“He may look like a black bear, but he’s a real pussycat,” she said. “We used to go out in his sailboat, and he’d talk about how a sky full of sail and a whispering breeze can touch the soul of a man. And I knew he couldn’t be all bad.”

“I’m glad you got together,” Qwilleran said. “Now when can you and I get together for a technical rehearsal? All we need is a quiet room with two tables and two chairs.”

“Tomorrow night, about eight o’clock?” she suggested.

“Perfect! I’ve brought you a cue card and also a copy of the script, so you can see what happens between cues.”

“You’re so well organized, Qwill!”

“It’s a lot easier than organizing a parade of two hundred boats. How ill it work? Will they parade single file?”

“No, in fleets of about twenty-five. There are eight towns on the lakefront, and each will have a fleet — and a port master in charge.



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