The Cat Who Dropped a Bombshell полностью

At the restaurant they were greeted by the owner, Liz Hart, who seemed to have a particular fondness for Qwilleran.

He made the introductions, and the two women immediately warmed up to each other, as he knew they would.

Derek looked approvingly at the dimpled, curly-haired blonde.

"Is he married?" she whispered to Qwilleran after Derek had handed them menus and left the table.

"No," was the answer, "but he and his boss are . . . a couple who share a condo in Indian Village."

When drink orders were taken, Clarissa ordered a Moose County Madness, which had to be explained because Qwilleran had coined the name only two hours before.

Then food orders were placed, and Clarissa said she would like something they don't have in California.

With a wink at Qwilleran, the maître d' solemnly rose to his full height and with tongue in cheek recommended Bloody Creek frog legs or Wildcat stew. "They're not on the menu, but they're very good."

Clarissa ordered lamb chops. But Qwilleran called the man's bluff and ordered the frog legs.

"Good choice," Derek said and wrote it on his pad. "How would you like them done?"

Slyly, Qwilleran said, "The same way the chef prepared them the last time, Derek. They were excellent."

But the game was not yet over, and the ball was in Derek's court, Qwilleran mused with satisfaction.

Two minutes later, Derek returned, looking apologetic. "I'm terribly sorry, Mr. Q, but we've just served the last order of frog legs. They're very popular."

Clarissa listened solemnly, then asked, "Why is it called Bloody Creek?"

"No one knows, except that the bridge is the scene of auto accidents, caused by an S-curve in the highway. . . . Now tell me about your first day on the job."

"Well, first I interviewed Burgess Campbell in his home. They're all gingerbread houses on Pleasant Street! I was amazed!"

"It's properly called Carpenter Gothic," he corrected her, "and the street has been featured in national design magazines. The houses were built by an early Campbell, who was a builder of four-masted schooners."

"Everything here is so interesting," she cried.

"Did you meet Burgess's guide dog?"

"Yes, and he's so professional! No sniffing or tail wagging. When I told him he was a good dog, he looked as if he was thinking, ?Watch your language, lady.'

"Burgess - he told me to call him that because there are hundreds of Campbells in the county - gave me a good interview, explaining the why, what, and who of the Heirloom Auction. Then I requested a photographer from the paper and John Bushland met me at the Feed-and-Seed building, where the donated items are being collected. The auction itself will be held in the community hall downtown."

Clarissa was so excited, she was forgetting her lamb chops.

She said, "Each of my four features will have a large photo of some important item in the sale - along with my byline and mug shot, and I'm going to send my whole series to my adviser at school. She'll be impressed. I know it's not the Los Angeles Times, but it's a beginning."

During the meal, her gaze wandered as the tall, lanky black-suited maître d' moved among the tables.

"Isn't Liz Hart rather young to own a restaurant, Qwill?"

He explained. "She was a poor-young-rich-girl in Chicago who escaped a domineering mother, discovered Pickax and Derek, the most popular bachelor in town."

Clarissa said that it sounded like a fairy tale.

"It does, and everyone is waiting for the happy ending."

"Is Cuttlebrink Derek's real name?"

"Absolutely! There's a town called Wildcat that's full of Cuttlebrinks."

"Really? Where did it get its name?"

"Railroad trains go wildcatting through small towns."

"Oh! What does that mean?"

"Going too fast in a controlled-speed zone."

"Oh!"

Her cryptic syllables fascinated him, and he waited for the next question. She was, after all, a journalist.

"Before you forget, Clarissa, what did you want to tell me about the Ledfields?"

"Yes, something strange is happening at the Old Manse. I phoned to make an appointment and return her fabulous ring, but I can't talk to anyone except a secretary, who says they are unwell. When Harvey and I were there, they seemed in good health. Am I getting the runaround? What do you think I should do?"

He was getting twinges of suspicion in his upper lip. Actually, Qwilleran had not been comfortable with the situation for some time - not since Koko had dropped on Harvey's head. It was something the cat had never done before! Then, a second time, he had dropped on the sofa alongside Mitch Ogilvie. Was there a connection?

All of this flashed through Qwilleran's mind in answer to Clarissa's question.