"Does he swish his tail from side to side?"
"Definitely! Right, left - bam, bam, - right, left!"
Lori said seriously, "That's a danger signal. Does he direct his anger at Yum Yum?"
"Yes, and at me, too! He's trying to tell me something, and I'm not getting it. He's exasperated. Cats! They can drive you crazy.. This soup is great, Lori."
"Thanks. May I quote you? All I need to do is say, `Mr. Q likes it,' and there'll be a run on Asian hot and sour sausage soup."
From there he went to the design studio to pick up his dirks. "Superb job of framing!" he told Fran Brodie. "My compliments!"
"Where'll you hang them?"
"In the foyer, over the chest of drawers."
"Don't hang them too high," she cautioned. "Men of your height tend to hang wall decorations too high. It's the Giraffe syndrome." Then her manner changed from flip to confidential. "I heard a fantastic rumor this morning. Lynette is getting married at long last! And to Carter Lee James, if you can believe it!"
"It just proves there's hope for you, Fran," he said, knowing how to tease her.
"Yes, but how many Carter Lee Jameses are there to go around?" she retorted.
"Where did you hear the rumor?"
"One of my good customers called me. Do you think it's true? Lynette's older than he is, you know. He might be marrying her for the Duncan money."
"That's an unkind remark. She has a lot of good qualities, and they're both interested in old houses - and bridge. I hear they're excellent players."
"I'm surprised Danielle didn't tell me - if it's true."
"How's the play going?" he asked, smoothly changing the subject.
"Good news! We were able to get Ernie Kemple for Judge Brack, and it's perfect casting, although his booming voice and Danielle's tinny one sound like a duet for tuba and piccolo. You should come to rehearsal some night and have a few laughs. She calls him J.B. You know the line where Hedda points General Gabler's pistol and says: I'm going to shoot you, Judge Brack. Well, Danielle gave a little wiggle and said, `I'm gonna shoot you, J.B.' We all broke up!"
Qwilleran tamped his moustache. "If you want my opinion, Fran, this play will never make it to opening night." On the way out of the studio he asked casually, "Is your dad an ice fisherman?"
"No, he's not much of a sportsman. A little duck hunting in the fall, that's all. Why do you ask?"
"Just wondered... Has he said anything lately about the Willard Carmichael murder?"
"Not recently. When it first happened he said it would never be solved unless a suspect in another street crime confessed in a bid for leniency."
On the way home Qwilleran thought about Lena Inchpot and George Breze. He needed to confer with Celia Robinson - but how and where? Her bright red parked in front of his condo twice in quick success would arouse the curiosity of neighbors, Polly included. Gossip was a way of life in Pickax, although it was called "sharing information." Rumors traveled on Pickax grapevine with the speed of light. When Qwilleran was living at the barn, his location was secluded; even so, Andy Brodie had observed a red car entering woods that screened the barn from Main Street. With all of this in mind Qwilleran found it wise to brief Celia mail, as he had done when they worked together on Florida investigation... As soon as he arrived home he typed the following communication
(For your eyes only Memorize shred and flush) TO: Agent 00l3 FROM Q MISSION: Operation Winter Breeze ASSIGNMENT: To tail the subject identified in your report. Code name: Red Cap. Introduce yourself as Lenny's replacement. Play the friendly club hostess. Find out why Red Cap spends so much time in the TV lounge when he could be selling rusty snow shovels on Sandpit Road. Be charming. If he offers to buy you a drink, accept. You can pour it in the plastic ferns when he isn't looking. Bear in mind that Red Cap may be the Pickax Pilferer, and he may be covering up by falsely accusing Lenny. When mission is accomplished, phone headquarters to set up a rendezvous in the fresh produce department at Toodle's Market.
Toodle's Market was the perfect venue for a clandestine meeting. Strangers commonly exchanged opinions the best oranges for juice, the best way to cook beets, the best buy in wine. Furthermore, food demonstration created a party atmosphere by handing out samples of cheese spread or olive butter, and there were little per cups of coffee available. One could easily talk to the opposite sex without causing a traffic jam in the telephone system.
To deliver the briefing to Celia's mailbox at the gate-house, Qwilleran strapped on his snowshoes - or "webs" as they were called by the real buffs - and he trekked through the woods over a fresh fall of snow, trudging with wide-legged stance and long strides, keeping a slow and steady pace with a slightly rolling gait. He found it tranquilizing. At the gatehouse, he found a certain esthetic satisfaction in unstrapping the webs and sticking their tails in the snowbank.
As five o'clock approached, Qwilleran gave the Siamese an early dinner and instructions on how to behave during the visit of the happy couple. "No flying around! No knocking things down! No domestic quarrels!" They acted as if they understood, regarding him soberly, although actually they were just digesting their food.
The guests drove up promptly at five, Carter Lee driving Willard's Land-Rover. In the foyer, they removed their boots and hung scarfs and coats on the clothes tree, which Lynette admired at length. It was a square column of brass seven feet tall, with angular hooks of cast brass at varying levels.
"It's Art Deco, old but not antique," Qwilleran said. "Fran found it in Chicago. It came from the office of an old law firm."
The visitors hung their hats on the top hooks: one fluffy white angora knit, and one Russian-style toque of black fur. Then they walked into the living room and remarked about the fine wintery view and the beautiful cats.
"This one is Koko, and that one is Yum Yum," said Lynette, who had fed them one weekend in Qwilleran's absence. She extended a hand familiarly for them to sniff, but with typical feline perversity they ignored her and went to Carter Lee.
"Don't take it personally," the host explained to her. "They always consider it their duty to check out a new-comner."
The newcomer said, "My mother, who lives in Paris, has a Siamese called Theoria Dominys du Manoir des Ombreuses. Dodo, for short."
Lynette said, "We're going to France in May. Carter Lee speaks French fluently, and I'm going to brush up what I learned in high school. Le crayon est sur la table."
"For starters, then, how about a glass of merlot or pinot noir?" Qwilleran suggested. Red was Moose County's wine of choice in cold weather.
While he was pouring, they took the best seats in the house: the deep-cushioned sofa sheltered somewhat by the overhanging balcony and in full command of the view. The waning daylight was prolonged by the brilliant whiteness of the riverbank and the frozen river below.
"To all appearances, it's frozen solid," Qwilleran said, "but when I'm snowshoeing and all is silent, I can hear a faint trickle of water under the ice. The cats can hear it all the time. They sit in the window, listening."
The starry-eyed bride-to-be said, "We plan to have a summer place... don't we, honey? Either on the Ittibittiwassee or Rocky Burn." He nodded and smiled, looking quietly contented.
Amiable small talk continued for a while. Sitting apart on the sofa, the couple held hands across the center cushion and exchanged fond glances occasionally. Then, as if by hand signal, Lynette said, "We'd be grateful, Qwill, if you and Polly would stand up for us at our wedding. Folly is willing."
"Of course! I'm honored to be asked. What's the date?"
"A week from Tuesday. It's scheduled so we can honeymoon during Mardi Gras."
Carter Lee added, "We have a reservation that starts Wednesday, at an inn near the French Quarter."