this amount, drawn on a Chicago bank, will arrive under
separate cover.) Observe the management's reaction to
the above and report to Q. Watch for further briefings in
the mail.
Qwilleran had planned the tongue-in-cheek approach to relieve any apprehension Celia might have, and he could imagine her merry laughter upon reading the document. And if, he reflected grimly, she happened to be a double agent, her laughter would be even merrier. He still trusted the encouraging sensation on his upper lip, however, and he prepared a second secret document to go out in the mail the next day:
MISSION: Operation Greenback, Phase Two
ASSIGNMENT: Ask the management about the
possibility of moving into a double-wide... Test them by
saying that your sister wished you to adopt her cat, who
has a trust fund of his own of $10,000 a year. Ask for a
special permit to have an indoor cat who is quiet, and
not destructive, and rich. Observe their reactions to the
above and report to Q at HQ.
Qwilleran enclosed a card with his home phone number and instructions to call collect from a pay phone any evening between five and six o'clock. Then he waited. He wrote two columns for the Moose County Something. He signed a hundred Christmas cards for Lori Bamba to address. He looked at jewelry from Minneapolis and selected a lavaliere and earrings for Polly: fiery black opals rimmed with discreet diamonds. He read more of Robinson Crusoe to the cats.
One early evening, as he was beginning to doubt the wisdom of enlisting Celia, he was talking with Lori Bamba on the phone when Koko started biting the cord. "Excuse me, Lori," he said. "Koko wants me to hang up."
A moment later the phone rang, and a hushed voice said, "This is Double-Oh-Thirteen-and-a-half. Is it all right to talk?" Background noises assured him she was calling from the mall.
"By all means. I've been waiting for your report."
"Well! Let me tell you!" she said in her normal voice. "I've been having a ball! Everybody's excited about the party, and Betty and Claude are falling all over me! They used to treat me like a clown; now I get respect! They're giving me a special permit for the cat, and they're putting me at the top of the list for a double-wide!"
"You're a good operative, Celia."
"Shall I go ahead and get a cat?"
"Wait a minute! Not so fast! In the interest of realism, the cat should be shipped from Chicago."
"Clayton could bring it when he flies down for Christmas. I'd like a Burmese, but they're expensive. Maybe he could find one at an animal shelter."
Qwilleran said, "Cost is not the issue here, but let's not get ahead of the game. Wait for orders."
"I'm sorry. I'm just so excited! I feel as if I've really inherited my sister's fortune, and I don't even have a ]sister! What do I do next?"
"Keep checking the post office, and call whenever you have something to report."
"Isn't this fun?" she was squealing as he said goodnight.
Qwilleran had already plotted his next move. The following day he walked downtown to the store that had gold lettering on the window: EXBRIDGE & COBB, FINE ANTIQUES.
Susan Exbridge greeted him effusively. "Darling! You survived the Big Snow! Did you enjoy being snow-bound?"
"It wasn't what John Greenleaf Whittier had led me to expect. The lucky bunch in his poem sat around a blazing fire, roasting apples and telling stories. I was alone with a kerosene stove and two cats, and all of us were bored stiff. How about you?"
"The people in my building in Indian Village played bridge for five days."
Wandering through the shop, Qwilleran lingered over a pair of brass candlesticks a foot high, with thick, twisted stems and chunky bases the size of a soup bowl. "I like candlesticks," he remarked.
"Most men do, and I refuse to guess why," she said.
"These are Dutch baroque, but I found them in
Stockholm."
"I'll take them," he said. "Do you know how or where Euphonia sold her belongings?"
"I know how... but not exactly where," said Susan. "I wanted her to work with some good dealers in New York and Philadelphia, but someone in Florida offered her a lump sum for everything, and she fell for it. People get lazy about liquidating and want to do it the easy way."
"How much did they offer? Do you know?"
"I have no idea, but we can assume that it was well under the going price."
He paid for his purchase and asked to borrow some magazines on antiques.
On the way home he stopped at the Bushland Studio. John Bushland had transferred his commercial photography studio from Lockmaster to Pickax, and Qwilleran asked if he had any interior photos of his previous house in Lockmaster.
"I've got a complete set. Want to see 'em?"
Qwilleran had visited the photographer's century-old house and remembered the foyer with its carved staircase, stained-glass windows, and converted gas-light fixtures. "I could use a copy of this shot," he said. "Also a close-up of the marble fireplace in the front parlor and the one with painted tiles in the dining room. Don't ask me why I want them, Bushy; it's too complicated. I need them, that's all."
"Sure," said the genial young man. "How quick?"
"A.S.A.P."
"Then take these prints. I'll make more for the file."
The magazines that Qwilleran carried home contained dealer ads for choice antiques at five-digit and six-digit prices that shocked his frugal psyche. Nevertheless, he made a list of items that would fit his scheme: Jacobean chair... carved and gilded divan from India... four-poster brass bed in Gothic style... spiral staircase from Irish country house... collection of botanical plates in porcelain, eighteenth century... Empire desk in
mahogany and ormolu...and more. He omitted any reference to price.
He photocopied the list at the public library. One copy would go to Susan Exbridge for appraisal; the other, to Celia Robinson with another briefing:
MISSION: Operation Greenback, Phase Three
ASSIGNMENT: Your late sister was a collector of
antiques and art objects, none of which you understand
or even like. There are twelve rooms of such furnishings
that you wish to sell with as littIe effort as possible. Ask
the park management if they know how to go about it.
Show them the enclosed list as a sampling of the items
involved. Mention also that you must sell your sister's
house. Show them the enclosed photos of the interior.
Report their responses as usual.
December in Pickax was a month of crowded stores, sparkling decorations, holiday parties, school pageants, and carol singing, with a picturesque snowfall every day. In the "Qwill Pen" column the veteran newsman strove to write about these perennial subjects with a fresh approach, although his mind was on Operation Greenback. He was relieved when his agent made her second report:
"Oh, it was a wonderful party, Mr. Qwilleran! Everybody had a terrific time," she began. "All the Sunsetters congratulated me on my inheritance."
"Did Mr. Crocus attend?"
"Well, I had to coax him, but afterwards he said he had a good time. I don't know whether he meant it. He
always says the polite thing."
"What do you know about his background?"
"Only that he was in some kind of wholesale business in Ohio. No one in his family ever visits him. Maybe that's why he enjoys Clayton's company. They play chess together."
Qwilleran asked, "And how did the management react
to your questions?"
"They were very helpful. They have experience and a lot of connections, they said. They're going to show my list of furniture to a dealer, and he'll make an offer on the whole houseful."
"Did you show them the photographs of the house?"
"Yes, they were quite impressed and said there were things that should be removed before vandals get them. They know somebody who does that. He would pay for them, of course. And guess what! Betty and Claude invited me to the dog races! It looks as if I'm in solid! Things were going so good that I did something on my own. I hope I did right."