The Cat Who Went Up the Creek by Lilian Jackson Braun

Author:Lilian Jackson Braun [Braun, Lilian Jackson]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Crime
ISBN: 9780515134384
Publisher: Jove
Published: 2002-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

On Saturday, Qwilleran was `up betimes,' as they used to say three centuries ago. What, he wondered, had happened to that word? It was still in the dictionary. If Polly were there, they would have a lively discussion about it. He missed her most on weekends. Later, he would drive over to her place to cheer up the cats, who missed her too.

Meanwhile he had coffee and a thawed breakfast roll on the porch. The cats were nearby, washing up after their own breakfast when, suddenly, they went on ear-alert. Someone was coming along the creek footpath.

It was the small boy from Cabin Two. He approached the screen saying, 'Kitty! Kitty! You found your mittens!'

The cats remained stiffly aloof from this alien creature who was larger than a squirrel and smaller than a human.

Qwilleran started to say, 'Does your mother—?'

`Danny! Danny!' screamed a shrill voice, and a frail-looking woman came hurrying along the path. 'I told you not to bother people!'

`I wanna see the kitties!'

She snatched his wrist and dragged him home while he looked back in disappointment.

In preparation for Barter's luncheon visit, he had some exploring to do and was pleased that he had brought his trail bike. The dense woods called the Black Forest Conservancy adjoined the Nutcracker Inn to the south and stretched for miles and miles.

He put on the biking gear that always scared the cats – tight-fitting green-and-purple suit, spherical yellow helmet, large black sun goggles – and wheeled his bike to Cabin One, where he rapped on Hannah's back door.

She greeted him with a small cry of alarm and then laughed.

'Oh, it's you, Qwill! I thought it was someone from outer space. Come in!'

`Not today, thanks. I have miles to bike before noon. Just stopped to say that your ovation last night was well deserved.'

'I had a lot of friends in the audience.'

`Friends or no friends, you created a believable character, and you have a splendid voice!'

`Thank you,' she said graciously, with the aplomb of one who believes in herself.

`We'll talk about it tomorrow night at dinner. I suggest we all meet here and walk up the hill.'

Qwilleran pedaled east on Gully Road with farmland on his left and the Black Forest on his right, and he thought about Fanny Klingenschoen. While pursuing a lucrative career on the fast track – elsewhere – she had bought up half of Moose County. She acquired woodland and abandoned mining villages as well as property in downtown Pickax. Ecologically, she was doing something right, but she was doing it for her own reason: revenge against the `respectable' families who had scorned her freewheeling ancestors. Now the wilderness holdings had been placed in conservancy by the Klingenschoen Foundation – to prevent development and do some small part in saving the planet.

In the wrong hands, Qwilleran was aware, millions of trees would have been cleared to make way for high-density condominiums, a golf course, and even an auto raceway. The pure air and water of the north country would have been exchanged for population growth and pollution.

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