"Oh, real silk!" she cried. "And my favorite color. You remembered!" Her tear-dampened eyes were enlarged by the strong lenses in her eyeglasses, and Qwilleran felt a surge of compassion for her. She liked male companionship, and yet all three of her marriages had ended sadly. Although she claimed to be happy, he knew she was lonely. Sometimes he wondered about himself. He had been a bachelor for ten years, telling himself it was the best way to live. Life had been agreeable while Mrs. Cobb was his housekeeper, and the meals had been superb. Now he ate in restaurants and was constantly looking for a dinner companion. His best friend, Arch Riker, would soon be married and staying home evenings. Most of the women he knew were either too aggressive or too frivolous for his taste. The head librarian was the exception, but he and Polly had played their last scene, and he knew when to bring down the curtain.
He was quiet, lulled into contentment by good food, pleasing environment, and the domestic tranquility of the moment. Mrs. Cobb seemed to sense his mood, and her eyes smiled hopefully. Only the crackling of the fire and Koko's heavy breathing broke the silence. Qwilleran wanted to say something, but for once he was at a loss for words. She was an amenable woman, a comfortable companion. He had only to say "Iris!" and she would say "Oh, Qwill!" with tears streaming down under her thick glasses. Suddenly there was a rushing, bumping, scrambling, thumping burst of noise from the adjoining room. The man.and woman ran to the kitchen. Yum Yum was lying on her side at the base of the gas range with her famous paw extended under the appliance while her tail slapped the floor.
"She's got a mouse'" Qwilleran said. He reached for her and received a snarl in response.
"Leave her alone," Mrs. Cobb said. "She thinks you want to take it away from her."
"That's where the mice are getting in - where the gas lines come into the house," he said. "No wonder she was watching the range all evening. She could hear them."
"Oh, she's a good kitty - a real good kitty!"
"She's smarter than your plumber, Mrs. Cobb."
The tail-thumping slowed and then stopped, and Yum Yum wriggled across the floor, withdrawing her long foreleg with the prize clutched in the sharp claws of her famous right paw. Koko walked into the room and yawned. Mrs. Cobb looked at him in consternation. "Just like a man!"
Her comment took Qwilleran by surprise. It was out of character for the docile, male-worshipping widow he had known.
"Time to go home," he said, opening the picnic hamper. "It was a wonderful dinner, Mrs. Cobb, and you're to be complimented on the museum. Let me know if there's anything I can do."
With the hamper on the backseat and the two commodes on the floor, Qwilleran tooted a farewell to his hostess on the doorstep and headed the car toward Pickax. He was thankful that Yum Yum had caught her mouse at an auspicious time, saving him from an amorous slip of the tongue. He needed no more women on his trail - least of all, his former housekeeper, who was marriage oriented and tragedy prone. All three of her husbands had died violent deaths.
He drove past the Hanging Tree and across the Old Plank Bridge and then west on Ittibittiwassee Road. There was little traffic. The county had built the road - at great expense - to accommodate Exbridge's condominium development. Most motorists preferred the shorter, more commercial route, however, and the local wags called the new highway Ittibittigraft.
Darkness was falling as he passed the site of the old Buckshot Mine. It was here, he recalled, that he had suffered a serious bicycle accident a year before - a highly questionable accident.
And now... it all happened again.
-Scene Seven-
Place: A lonely stretch of
Ittibittiwassee Road
Time: Later the same evening
IT WAS LATE Sunday night, and the traffic on Ittibittiwassee Road was sparse. Westward bound, Qwilleran met no cars approaching in the opposite direction, and he drove with his country brights illuminating the yellow lines on the pavement. On either side darkness closed in over the patches of woods, abandoned mine sites and boulder-studded pastureland. Now and then a half-moon accentuated the eeriness of the landscape, then retired behind a cloud.
Eventually headlights appeared in Qwilleran's rearview mirror - country lights excessively bright until he flicked the mirror to cut the glare. The vehicle was gaining on him. Its pattern was erratic: swerving into the eastbound lane as if planning to pass - falling back into line - coming closer-swerving again to the left. It was a van, and when it came alongside, it was too close for a prudent driver's peace of mind. Qwilleran edged to the right. The van crowded closer.
He's drunk, Qwilleran thought, and he steered close to the shoulder and eased up on the pedal. The van loomed over the small car. Another inch and it would bump him off the road. He steered onto the shoulder... Easy! Loose gravel!... Skidding! Easy! Turn into the skid! Baby the brake!... And then the little car hit a boulder and flipped over... still traveling, sliding along the edge of the ditch... another jolt, another rollover, twice, before it came to a shuddering halt in the dry ditch.
There was a moment of stunned disorientation - pedals and dashboard overhead - seat cushions and roasting pans everywhere - a shower of kitty gravel.
Why was there no cry from the cats? Qwilleran unbuckled and climbed out of the door that had been thrown open by the impact. Then he crawled back into the dark car and groped for the hamper. It was lying on the upside-down ceiling, jammed under a seat cushion, its cover open, the cats gone!
"Koko!" he yelled. "Koko! Yum Yum!" There was no answer. He thought, They might have taken flight in terror! They might have been flung from the car! In panic he searched the ditch in the immediate vicinity, looking for small light-colored bodies in the darkness. He called again. Utter silence.
Then headlights illuminated the landscape as a car approached from the east, stopping on the shoulder of the road. A man jumped out and ran to the scene. "Are you okay? Anybody hurt?"
"I'm all right, but I've lost my cats. Two of them. They may have been thrown out."
The motorist turned and shouted toward his own car, "Radio the sheriff, hon, and bring the torch!" To Qwilleran he said, "Have you tried calling them? It's heavily wooded along here. They might be hiding."
"They're indoor cats. They never go out. I don't know how they'd react to the accident and unfamiliar surroundings."
"Your car's totaled."
"I don't care about the car. I'm worried about the cats." "The guy was drunk. I saw him weaving before he crowded you off the road. Seemed like a light-colored van."
The man's wife arrived with a high-powered flashlight, and Qwilleran started beaming it in the ditch and along the edge of the thicket.
The man said to her, "He had two cats in the car. They escaped or were thrown out."
"They'll be all right," she said. "We had a cat fall from a third-floor window."
"Quiet!" Qwilleran said. "I thought I heard a cry." The wail came again.
"That's some kind of night bird," the woman said. "Quiet!... while I call them and listen for an answer."
Headlights and a flashing red rooflight appeared in the distance, and a sheriff's car pulled up. The deputy in a brown uniform said, "May I see your operator's license?" He nodded when Qwilleran handed it over. "How did it happen, Mr. Qwilleran?"
The other motorist said, "I saw it all. A drunk driver. Crowded him off the road, and then skipped."
Qwilleran said, "I had two cats in the car, and I can't find them."
The deputy flashed a light around the wreck. "Could be underneath."
The woman said, "We'd better go, honey. The babysitter has to leave at 11:30."