'"Koko! My God! Where were you?" Qwilleran shouted. "Where's Yum Yum?"
"There she is!" said Nick, beaming the big lantern down the hall. She was in a hunched position with rump elevated and head low - her mousing stance - and she was watching the door of the elevator.
At the same time there was pounding in the walls and a distant cry of distress.
The two men looked at each other in a moment's perplexity.
"Someone's trapped in the elevator!" Qwilleran said in amazement.
Nick peered through the small pane of glass in the elevator door. "It's stuck between here and the basement."
There was more pounding and hysterical yelling, and Qwilleran rushed to the lower level. "Call the police!" he shouted up to Nick. "The phone's in the Iibrary!"
The beam of his flashlight exposed a ravaged ballroom. Electrical wires were hanging from the ceiling and protruding from the walls, and canvas murals, peeled from their backgrounds, were lying in rolls on the floor.
-19-
THE THWARTED BURGLARY on Goodwinter Boulevard was the subject of a news bulletin on WPKX Sunday afternoon. It was a newscaster's dream: breaking and entering, vandalism, attempted theft, and four big names: the Gage mansion owned by Junior Goodwinter and occupied by James Qwilleran, the Klingenschoen heir.
After the broadcast, Junior was the first to call. "Hey, Qwill! Is there a lot of damage?"
"The ballroom's a wreck, but they didn't get around to anything on the main floor, thanks to the blackout. The light fixtures are still on the elevator. The murals are rolled up on the ballroom floor; I hope they can be salvaged."
"I'd better buzz over and take a look. Is the power back on?"
"It was restored while the police were here. I'll plug in the coffeemaker."
Minutes later, when Junior viewed the dangling wires and stripped walls, he said, "I can't believe this!
Who did it? He wasn't named on the air, and our reporter couldn't get anything at police headquarters. The suspect won't be charged until tomorrow."
"Suspect! That's a laugh! He was caught red-handed when the cops arrived - trapped in the elevator with his loot. Brodie himself was here... Come into the kitchen." Qwilleran poured coffee and said, "It's my guess that he's the dealer who phoned you and wanted to buy the stuff. He's from Milwaukee."
Junior unwrapped a few slices of fruitcake. "What made him think he could help himself?"
"It wasn't his own idea - or so he swears. He had a partner, an electrician, who decamped with the van when the power failed. It was the dealer's van, and he was madder'n hell! He was glad to name his accomplice, thinking the guy had thrown a circuit breaker in order to steal the vehicle. He didn't know it was a general blackout."
"How do you know all this?"
"I talked to Brodie afterward. The state police are tracking the van. And listen, Junior: Anything I tell you is off the record. If you jump the gun and I lose my credibility with Andy, your name isn't Junior anymore; it's something else."
"Agreed," said the editor.
"That isn't good enough."
"Scout's honor!... So if the neighborhood hadn't blacked out, the rats would have gotten away with it. That's some coincidence!"
"And if I hadn't come home when I did," Qwilleran said, "the suspect, as he is charitably called, wouldn't be in jail"
"What brought you home, Qwill? I thought you were staying till Monday. And how did you get off the Point? The highway's still blocked."
"Regarding the latter question, read my column in Tuesday's paper. The other question..." He related the cat-sitter incident: the missing cats, the frantic phone call, the strange vehicle, the alarming possibilities. "But when I walked in, there they were! Both cats! Acting as if nothing had happened! Where were those two devils hiding when Lynette was looking for them, and why were they hiding? I'm convinced that Koko can sense evil, but did he know that their absence would bring me home in a hurry?.. This is good fruitcake. Who made it?"
"Mildred... But how did the thieves know you wouldn't be home?"
"That part of the story gets complicated." Qwilleran smoothed his moustache, a familiar gesture. "With Celia Robinson's help, I've been collecting evidence about those con artists down there. She's been reporting to me from a mall, thinking her home phone is tapped. Just before Christmas I took a chance on calling her at home - about a small but urgent matter - and that's the only way those crooks could find out I'd be gone for the weekend. Her phone really was tapped, and they'd connect my name with the Gage mansion. Betty and Claude were here, you remember, for the preview of our show. They're no dummies! They're real professionals!"
Junior said, "Wait till Wilmot hears your story!"
"I discussed my suspicions with him at the wedding, but now that it's become police business, it puts a new face on the matter. There's some hard evidence."
"It'll make a hot story," the editor said, "especially with the cats involved."
"Leave the cats out of it," Qwilleran said sternly.
"Don't be crazy! That's the best part!"
"If you want a hot story, get this, Junior: Your aunt Lethe was born on the same day as your grandmother's housekeeper and in the same place. In a county as small as Lockmaster was in 1928, how many girl babies would be born on November 27? It's my contention that Euphonia paid a farm family to take Lethe and change her name to Lena Foote... That would make Nancy Fincher your cousin."
Junior gulped audibly. "That's a wild guess on your part."
"Okay. Send a reporter to Lockmaster to search the county records for a Lena Foote and a Lethe Gage born on the same day. I'll bet you a five-course dinner there's only one... unless... your esteemed grandmother bribed the county clerk to rig the books."
"That's a possibility," Junior admitted. "We all know how corrupt they are in Lockmaster."
"Don't you find it significant that Lena dropped out of school at the age of fifteen and entered the employ of the Gages - where she remained for more than forty years? Don't you think Nancy has your grandmother's genes? Euphonia was tiny, and so is she - "
"And I'm vertically challenged myself," Junior interrupted.
"Now you're getting it! Also, a deceptively young countenance is characteristic of all three of you. Nancy even has Euphonia's sweet smile. Sorry I can't say the same about you... More coffee?"
"No, thanks. I'll amble home and break the news to Jody that we have a pack of Siberian huskies for first-cousins-once-removed."
"And don't forget that the murdered potato farmer was your uncle-by-marriage," Qwilleran added.
Junior wandered out of the house in an apparent daze.
The Siamese were under the kitchen table, waiting for crumbs, and Qwilleran shared the last slice of fruitcake with them. They slobbered over it eagerly, being careful to spit out the nuts and fruits.
On Monday the snowbound Purple Pointers were able to return to town. An electrical contractor sent a crew to the Gage mansion to restore the ballroom fixtures. An installer from Amanda's design studio prepared to rehang the murals. Qwilleran wrote a column about his experience on the frozen bay, with paragraphs of praise for the musher's musher. And at five o'clock Celia Robinson called.
"Did you enjoy Christmas?" he asked.
"Yes, we had a good time," she said in a subdued manner that was unusual for her. "We splurged on dinner at a nice place, and Clayton had a real steak, not chopped."
"Did he bring Wrigley with him?"
"Yes, Wrigley's a nice cat. Black and white. But something odd is happening here, Mr. Qwilleran. Pete, the assistant manager, went to Wisconsin to spend Christmas with his parents, and he hasn't come back. Betty and Claude haven't been seen since yesterday noon. There's no one in charge of the office. Clayton and I went in and sorted the mail today, but everybody's upset."