"Who's the auctioneer?"
"Foxy Fred. Who else? He's donating his services, and you know how good he is! People will have lots of fun... Here's a list of the packages being offered." He handed Qwilleran a printout.
1 - Dinner and dancing at the Purple Point Boat Club with Gregory Blythe, investment counselor and mayor of Pickax.
2 - Transportation by limousine to Lockmaster for a gourmet dinner at the five-star Palomino Paddock with interior designer Fran Brodie.
3 - Portrait-sitting at John Bushland's photo studio and a picnic supper on his cabin cruiser, catered by the Nasty Pasty.
4 - A cocktail dress from Aurora's Boutique and dinner at the Northern Lights Hotel with Wetherby Goode, WPKX meteorologist.
5 - A boat ride around the off-shore islands and dinner at the exclusive Grand Island Club with Elizabeth Hart, newcomer from Chicago.
6 - An afternoon of horseback riding on private bridle paths and dinner at Tipsy's with Dr. Diane Lanspeak, M.D.
7 - A motorbike tour of the county and a cook-out at the State Park with Derek Cuttlebrink, former chef at the Old Stone Mill.
8 - A poolside afternoon at the Country Club and dinner in the club gazebo with Hixie Rice, vice president of the Moose County Something.
9 - An all-you-can-eat feast and acoustic rock concert at the Hot Spot with Jennifer Olsen, the theatre club's youngest leading lady.
Qwilleran read the list, nodding at the choices and chuckling a couple of times.
Dwight asked, "How does it strike you? Have we covered the bases? We included Derek and Jennifer to get the young crowd. Derek's groupies will attend en masse, screaming."
"He's not a former chef at the Old Stone Mill," Qwilleran said. "He's a former busboy, who spent two months in the kitchen mixing coleslaw. Girls like him because he's six-feet-eight-and an actor."
Dwight was making notes. "Got it! Any other comments?"
"Everything else looks good. It's well known that Elizabeth Hart has a trust fund worth millions; that'll up the bidding... Greg Blythe will go over big. Bidders will expect to get some hot investment tips as well as the Boat Club's famous Cajun Supreme, which is really carp."
"How does Dr. Diane's package hit you, Qwill?"
"She's a personable and intelligent young woman, and everyone likes Tipsy's steaks, but not everyone cares for riding. Are substitutions allowed?"
"You mean, like a complete set of blood tests and an EKG? I doubt it. But we're advertising the auction in Lockmaster, and their horsy crowd will be up here, bidding."
Then Qwilleran said, "Wait a minute! You have only nine packages on this list."
"Precisely why I'm buying your dinner tonight," Dwight said slyly. "Check this out for number ten: A complete makeup and hair styling at Brenda's Salon, prior to dinner at the Old Stone Mill with popular newspaper columnist, Qwill Qwilleran."
The popular columnist hemmed and hawed.
"You're an icon in these parts, Qwill - what with your talent, money, and moustache. Women will bid high to get you! Bidders would fight even to eat tuna casserole at the bombed-out hotel with the richest bachelor in northeast central United States. Fran Brodie will attract high-rollers, too. She's a professional charmer; the Paddock is self-consciously expensive; and the limousine will be driven by the president of the department store in a chauffeur's cap."
Qwilleran nodded with amusement. "That's Larry's favorite shtick. Where are you getting the limousine?"
"From the Dingleberry Brothers, provided they don't have an out-of-town funeral."
When the steaks arrived, Qwilleran had time to consider. Actually the adventure would be material for the "Qwill Pen." The twice-a-week stint was ceaselessly demanding, and readers were clamoring for three a week. Down Below, in a city of millions, it would be easy, but Moose County was a very small beat. Finally he said, "I hope we don't have to stand up in front of the audience like suspects in a police lineup."
"Nothing like that," Dwight assured him. "We've booked the high school auditorium, and there's a Green Room where the celebrities can sit and hear the proceedings on the PA. Onstage there'll be an enlarged photo of each celebrity, courtesy of Bushy. After each package is knocked down, the winner and celebrity will meet onstage and shake hands - amid applause, cheers, and screams, probably."
"I'm glad you explained all this, Dwight. It gives me time to disappear in the Peruvian mountains before auction night." He was merely goading his friend. Finally he said, "Let me congratulate you, Dwight, on your handling of Explo - and not just because you're buying my steak."
"Well, thanks, Qwill. It was a big job. Only one thing worries me. The timing of the explosion at the hotel could not have been worse; it gives 'Explo' a bad connotation. I can't help wondering if there's an element in the county that opposes our celebration of food. Nowadays we have anti-everything factions, but can you imagine anyone being anti-food?"
"The cranks are always with us," Qwilleran said, "hiding behind trees, peeking around corners, going about in disguise, and plotting their selfish little schemes."
When Qwilleran arrived home, it was dark, and the headlights of his car picked up a frantic cat in the kitchen window - leaping about wildly, clawing at the sash - his howls unheard through the glass. Qwilleran jumped from his car, rushed to the back door, and fumbled anxiously with the lock. In the kitchen, a single flick of the switch illuminated the main floor, and Koko flew to the lounge area. Qwilleran followed. There, on the carpet, Yum Yum appeared to be in convulsions, lashing out with all four legs, trying to turn herself inside out. Her tiny head was caught in one of the holes of the cheese basket. The more she fought the wicker noose, the greater her panic.
Qwilleran was in near-panic himself. He shouted her name and tried to grab her, but she was a slippery handful. Going down on his knees, he seized the basket with one hand and held it steady, at the risk of hurting her. With the other hand he captured her squirming flanks and squeezed her body between his knees. How could he withdraw her head without tearing her silky ears? It was impossible. Incredibly, she realized he was trying to help, and her body went limp. Murmuring words of assurance, he broke the strands of dry wicker with his free hand, one after the other, until her head could be freed from the trap.
She gulped a few times as he clutched her to his chest, massaged her ears, and called her his little sweetheart. "You gave us a scare," he said. After a few moments, Yum Yum wriggled out of his arms, licked a patch of fur on her breast, gave one tremendous shudder, and went to the kitchen for a drink of water.
8
On Sunday morning the church bells rang on Park Circle - the sonorous chimes of the Old Stone Church and the metallic echo of the Little Stone Church.
Earlier in the morning, Qwilleran had received a phone call from Carol Lanspeak, who lived in fashionable West Middle Hummock. She and Larry drove into town every Sunday with garden flowers for the larger, older, grander of the two places of worship. This time they were bringing a new couple to church, recently arrived from Down Below: J. Willard Carmichael and his wife, Danielle.
"He's the new president of Pickax People's Bank, a distinguished-looking man and a real live wire," Carol said. "His wife is much younger and a trifle - well - flashy.. But she's nice. It's a second marriage for him. I think you'd like to meet Willard, Qwill, and they're both dying to see your barn."
Qwilleran listened patiently, waiting for her to come to the point.
"Would you mind if we stopped at the barn after the service - for just a few minutes?"