The Cat Who Played Brahms by Lilian Jackson Braun Page A

room.
    "Excuse the mess," the host said. "My wife went to Canada with my sister to see some plays about dead kings. The gals go for that kind of stuff. . . . What'll you have? I drink rye, but I've got Scotch and bourbon. Or maybe you'd like a gin and tonic?"
    "Just tonic water or ginger ale," Qwilleran said. "I'm off the hard stuff."
    "Not a bad idea. I should cut down. Planning on doing any fishing?"
    "My fishing is on a par with my canoeing. My chief reason for being here is to find time to write a book."
    "Man, if I could write I'd write a best-seller," Buck said. "The things I've seen! I spent twenty-five years in law enforcement Down Below. Took early retirement with a good pension, but I got restless—you know how it is—and took a job in Pickax. Chief of police in a small town! Some experience!" He shook his head. "The respectable citizens were more trouble than the lawbreakers, so I quit, I'm satisfied to take it easy now. I do a little woodworking. See that row of candlesticks? I turn them on my lathe, and Mildred sells them to raise money for the hospital."
    "I like the big ones," Qwilleran said. "They look like cathedral candlesticks."
    They were sitting at the bar. Buck poured refills and then lighted a pipe, going through the ritual that Qwilleran knew so well. "I've made bigger sticks than that," he said between puffs. "Come on downstairs and see my workshop." He led the way to a room dominated by machinery and sawdust. "I start with one of these four-by-fours and turn it on the lathe. Simple, but the tourists like 'em, and it's for a good cause. Mildred finished one pair in gold and made them look antique. She's a clever woman."
    "She does a lot for the hospital, I hear.”
    "Yeah, she's got crazy ideas for fund-raising, That's all right. It keeps her mind off her troubles."
    The pipe smoke was reaching Qwilleran's nostrils, and he remarked: "You get your tobacco from Scotland."
    "How did you know? I order it from Down Below."
    "I used to smoke the same blend, Groat and Boddle Number Five."
    "Exactly! I smoked Auld Clootie Number Three for a long time, but I switched last year."
    "I used to alternate between Groat and Boddle and Auld Barleyfumble."
    Buck swept the sawdust from the seat of a captain's chair and pushed it toward his guest. "Put it there, my friend."
    Qwilleran slid into the chair and enjoyed the wholesome smell of sawdust mixed with his favorite tobacco.
    "Tell me, Buck. How long did it take you to adjust to living up here?"
    "Oh, four or five years."
    "Do you lock your doors?"
    "We did at first, but after a while we didn't bother."
    "It's a lot different from Down Below. The surroundings, the activities, the weather, the customs, the pace, the attitude. I never realized it would be such a drastic change.
    My chief idea was to get away from pollution and congestion and crime for a while."
    "Don't be too sure about that last one," Buck said in a confidential tone.
    "What makes you say that?"
    "I've made a few observations." The retired policeman threw his guest a meaningful glance.
    Qwilleran smoothed his moustache. "Why don't you drop in for a drink this weekend? I'm staying at the Klingenschoen cabin. Ever been there?"
    Buck was relighting his pipe. He puffed, shook his head, and puffed again.
    "It's on the dune, about a half mile west of here. And I've got a bottle of rye with your name on it."
    When Qwilleran paddled the canoe home through shallow water, he was thinking about the man who had saved his life with a bullhorn. Buck had denied ever being at the Klingenschoen cabin, and yet. . . On the evening when Mildred left her gift of turkey, two figures had disappeared into the fog, headed for the beach, and one of them had been smoking Groat and Boddle Number Five.
     

-7-
    The muffled bell of the telephone rang several times before Qwilleran roused enough to answer it. The instrument was now housed in a kitchen cupboard, and Koko had not yet devised a means of unlatching the cupboard