The Cat Who Played Brahms Read Online Free PDF Page B

in snugly fitting pants and a Mooseville T-shirt, leered at his orange cap and said: "All ready for Halloween, Clyde?"
    Glancing at her blimplike figure he thought of an apt retort but curbed his impulse.
    He returned home with one and a half pasties in soggy waxed paper and discovered some new developments. The damaged screen in the porch door had been replaced, and the hawk-spotted furnishings had been cleaned. There was a can of insect spray in the kitchen.
    Additional cassettes were stacked on the stereo cabinet. And his watch was missing. He clearly remembered placing it on a bathroom shelf before showering. Now it was gone. It was an expensive timepiece, presented to him by the Antique Dealers' Association at a testimonial dinner.
    With mystification and annoyance muddling his head he sat down to think. Koko rubbed against his ankles, and Yum Yum jumped upon his knee. He stroked her fur absently as he reviewed the last twenty-four hours.
    First there was the sunken grave; the cats were still mesmerized and kept returning to their vantage point in the guest-room window. Next there were the footsteps on the roof; the intruder was heading for the chimney when frightened away by light and noise. This morning there had been the incredible odor at the post office. And why did Roger discourage him from visiting the old cemetery? The Chamber of Commerce brochure recommended it to history buffs, photographers, and artists interested in making rubbings of nineteenth century tombstones.
    And now his watch had been stolen. He had another he could use, but the missing watch was gold and had pleasant associations. Would Aunt Fanny's trusted employee attempt a theft so easily traceable? Perhaps he had a light-fingered helper; after all, a lot of work had been accomplished in a very short time.
    Qwilleran's reverie was interrupted by the sound of a vehicle moving slowly up the driveway, tires crunching on gravel. It had the purring motor of an expensive car.
    The cats were alerted. Koko marched to the south porch to inspect the new arrival. Yum Yum hid under one of the sofas.
    The man who stepped out of the car was an alarming sight in this northern wilderness.
    He wore a business suit, obviously tailor-made, and a white shirt with a proper striped tie. There was a hint of cologne, a conservative scent. His long thin face was somber.
    "I presume you are Miss Klingenschoen's nephew," he said when Qwilleran advanced. "I'm her attorney.. . “
    "Is anything wrong?" Qwilleran cut in quickly, alarmed by the funereal tone.
    "No, no, no, no. I had business in the vicinity and merely stopped to introduce myself. I'm Alexander Goodwinter."
    "Come in, come in. My name is Qwilleran. Jim Qwilleran."
    "So I am aware. Spelled with a W," the attorney said. "I read the Daily Fluxion. We all read the Fluxion up here, chiefly to convince ourselves that we're fortunate to live four hundred miles away. When we refer to the metropolitan area as Down Below, we are thinking not only of geography." He seemed entirely at ease in the cabin, seating himself on Yum Yum's sofa and crossing his knees comfortably. "I believe a storm is imminent.
    They can be quite violent up here."
    The newsman had learned that any conversation in the north country opened with comments on the weather, almost as a matter of etiquette. "Yes," he said with a declamatory flourish, "the texture of the lake and the lambency of the wind are rather ominous."
    When the attorney gave him a wary look, Qwilleran quickly added: "I'd offer you a drink, but I haven't had a chance to stock up. We arrived only yesterday."
    "So Fanny informed me. We are pleased to have one of her relatives nearby. She is so very much alone—the last of the Klingenschoens."
    "We're not. . . really. . . relatives," Qwilleran said with a slight lapse of concentration. He could see Yum Yum's nose emerging stealthily under the skirt of the sofa, not far from the attorney's foot. "She and my mother were friends, and I was