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The cat was more than willing. (No wonder! Qwilleran thought. He always wins!) On this occasion Koko was choosing a preponderance of low-scoring consonants like R, S, L, T, and N, and Qwilleran was considering another change in the rules, when the velvet paw drew forth O, E, V, B, 0, G, and J. Immediately Qwilleran spelled JOVE, which netted fourteen points, leaving only seven for Koko.

"By Jove!" he said to the cat. "I think we've got it!" At that moment there was an awkward knock at the door. He swept the tiles into the Scrabble box and went to admit his guest.

The Penniman bartender was loaded down with cassette-caddies and LPs. "Relax!" he said. "I'm not planning to stay three days. I brought a whole bunch so you can take your pick." "Come in. I've been looking forward to this." "Man, this is not too shabby!" said Jupiter in admiration as he perused the foyer. "And it opens right onto the terrace!" "You've never been here before?" "Never got invited." "Wait till you see the sunken living room." Qwilleran opened the French doors. "The stereo is down in the pit.

Here, let me take some of that load." They carried the recordings into the gallery and piled them on the giant cocktail table. The guest stood in the middle of the pit with his hands in his pockets, staring in every direction. "I should think you'd get fed up with mushrooms." "Don't knock them," said Qwilleran. "Since the scandal, they've become gilt-edged securities. They don't belong to me, of course. I'm just sub-letting. Let's have a drink. What's yours?" Hearing the rattle of icecubes, Koko made his imposing entrance through the open French doors. "Here comes the lord of the manor." "Good-looking cat," said Jupiter. "Better than most of the rat catchers around this building." It was almost as if Koko resented being lumped with rat catchers. From that moment on, he devised ways of tormenting the visitor. But first he had his saucer of white grapejuice.

Jupiter with his vodka on the rocks and Qwilleran with his club soda took seats on the long sofa, and the latter said, "They stole my car from the parking lot today." "Par for the course," said the other with a shrug.

"You people around here are so damned casual about car theft!" Qwilleran complained. "Even the old ladies in the lobby talk about muggings the way we talk about weather in Moose County." Koko jumped on the back of the long sofa and walked its length like a model on a runway. On the way back he stopped to sniff the guest's hair.

"Hey, what's going on back there?" Jupiter said, slapping the back of his head.

"Sorry," said Qwilleran, pushing the cat off the sofa. "He likes your shampoo... Now, can you tell me what happened at the hotel over the weekend?" "It was in the Fluxion this afternoon, so it's no secret any more. Two men and a woman in a suite on the top floor were gunned down execution-style, so you know it's drug-related. The hotel always tries to put the lid on anything like that. They think it'll scare off the tourists and conventions... Hey, what's he doing?" Koko was on the cocktail table, biting the corners of record jackets. Qwilleran sent him flying with a gentle backhand, and the cat spent the next ten minutes licking his damaged ego.

"How'd you get your big jazz collection, Randy?" "I was lucky. I had an uncle who was a bebop drummer-never made it big, but he got me hooked, and then he died and left me all his records. D'you have any requests?" "Well, I told you I like sax - Sidney Bechet, Jimmy Dorsey, Stan Getz, Charlie Parker, Coltrane. If I could play an instrument, that's what I'd like to play. It's almost like the human voice." "Okay, we'll start with Charlie... What's that thumping noise?" "That's Keestra Hedrog and her Gut Dancers. They rehearse in 14-B every Monday night. I'll close the doors and it won't bother us." Koko was standing in the doorway, half in and half out of the room, and when Qwilleran climbed out of the pit and tried to close the double doors, the cat stood as if glued to the threshold. "Are you coming in or staying out?" Qwilleran asked.

Koko deliberated, unable to make up his mind, until a slight tap from a size twelve shoe sent him catapulting into the gallery-down into the pit, up onto the rim, circling it like an indoor track, picking up speed and flying across the cocktail table, scattering cassettes in all directions.

"Cripes! He's like a tornado!" Jupiter said as he retrieved his collection.

"Sorry, he's wound up tonight for some reason.... Koko! You behave, or leave the room!" The cat jumped to the top of the bar, among the bottles and decanters, where he could keep the visitor under surveillance, and the evening progressed uneventfully for a while.

Jupiter played a program that went from bebop to swing to Chicago jazz to big band to Dixieland to blues to rag.

After his third drink he pantomimed a bebop drummer in sync with a recording, and the frenetic performance sent Koko burrowing under the dhurrie.

"Now what's he doing?" the man wanted to know.

"That rug covers the stain where Dianne Bessinger bled to death." "No kidding!" "I believe it was Labor Day weekend. How long have you lived here?" "I moved in... let's see... Memorial weekend." "Did you get to know Dianne or Ross?" "No, they never came into the bar, and I don't go for this kind of stuff." Jupiter waved an arm around the gallery walls.

Qwilleran said, "Since moving into this apartment I've discovered some new twists regarding the murder. Did you know that there are prominent men in town who would profit by Dianne's death?" "No kidding!" "It's a fact." Jupiter said he'd like another drink, and after pouring it Qwilleran said, "What's more, I hap- pen to have evidence that Ross did not kill Dianne." "You're kidding!" Koko had returned to the sofa-back and was sniffing the bartender's head again. His neck was reddening. He brushed the cat away like an annoying fly.

"Yes, there's no doubt in my mind that it was a frame-up. In fact, I have an appointment at the Homicide Squad tomorrow - to turn my information over to the detectives." "How'd you find out?" The vodka was coloring Jupiter's face to match his moustache.

"I have a snoopy nature and a little experience in criminal investigation. There are tenants who heard screams just before Ross landed on Yazbro's car. Dianne's murderer tossed the artist over the parapet, after dragging him down to the dark end of the terrace." Qwilleran kept a sharp eye on his guest and saw his hand go into his sweater pocket. "Want any more ice?" he asked as he carried his own glass to the bar. Feeling secure behind the massive piece of furniture, he went on. "But here's the clincher: You see that skylight up there? Someone was on the roof when it happened. There was a witness!" Jupiter struggled to his feet. Qwilleran thought, he's half-bombed! The man walked unsteadily to the bar and stood on the dhurrie, his hand still in his pocket. Wordlessly the two of them faced each other across the bar, until the heavy silence was broken by a clatter of glassware as something dropped between them. Koko had flown through the air, landing on the bar with arched back, bushed tail, flattened ears, and bared fangs.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Jupiter sneaked around the end of the bar, snatching a small tube from his pocket. As he raised it there was a click and a knifeblade shot out. Qwilleran, without taking his eye off the knife, grabbed a bottle by the neck. For one frozen moment they faced each other. At the same time a blur of fur passed between the two men, landing on the assailant's shoulder. A whiplike tail flicked twice.

There was a yell of pain, and the man put a hand to his eyes. The other hand wavered, and Qwilleran smashed down hard on the knife, then brought the bottle down on Jupiter's head. As he collapsed, Qwilleran kicked the knife away and stood over him with the bottle.

The French doors burst open! Two figures appeared on the level above. One of them had a gun.

"Hold it! I got you covered!" Qwilleran started to raise his hands before he realized that the man with the handgun was wearing a red golf hat. The man behind him had the paunchy figure of Arch Riker.