“You were superb! Polly was with me, and she said your performance put her under a spell.”
Brodie grunted. He was not accustomed to compliments.
“Was your wife there?”
“Nah. She’s seen it a hundred times.”
“How about your grandchildren?”
“Nah. They’re not into that stuff.”
“It must give you satisfaction to play music that gives people deep feelings.”
“Nah. It’s just something I do.” Brodie flung the suggestion away with an impatient gesture.
“Who was the man with a video recorder?”
“Some fella from the Scottish Museum in Lockmaster. Thinks they can sell ‘em. But it won’t work with the pibroch. There has to be a direct connection between the piper and the listener.”
“Exactly what I was trying to say,” Qwilleran told him. “Take a seat and pour yourself a drink.”
His guest dropped into one of the new barstools. “Nice stool!” He glanced around the barn. “Where’s your smart cat?”
“On top of the fireplace, watching you. Don’t make a false move.”
There was a thump as Koko jumped down to the surface of the library table, making the visitor wince instinctively, but Koko merely began dragging yellow pencils from the pencil holder.
Qwilleran explained, “He likes to sink his fangs in the soft wood of a pencil. I did the same thing when I was a kid, learning to write. I chewed every pencil. Arch Riker, my seatmate, wrote with his left ear down on the desk and his right hand moving the pencil four inches from his nose. The teacher thought we were a couple of weirdos.”
Brodie chuckled. “It seems to me you turned out all right. Both of you! The worst I ever did was to try lickin’ frozen railway tracks. Almost lost a tongue.”
“Lucky you didn’t lose an entire head!” Qwilleran pushed the nut bowl toward him. “Try these. Absolutely fresh!”
“What are the big ones? They’re big as horse chestnuts!”
“Brazil nuts. We never had them up here until the Sip ‘n’ Nibble Shop opened. Good, aren’t they?… I didn’t see you at the games yesterday.”
“Had to take my wife shopping.”
“When Boze Campbell tossed a perfect caber, three out of three, it was a historic moment in Moose County. It’ll be all over the paper tomorrow. He’s a desk clerk at the inn, you know.”
“I know. He was on duty at the time of the homicide, and all he noticed was the elevator going up and down. He’s a good athlete but not smart. What can you expect? He was born with two strikes against him.”
“He was an orphan, I hear.”
“A foundling!” said Brodie. “And I’m the one that found him!”
“Is that so?”
“Yep. Twenty-five years ago when I was working for the sheriff. There was an old shack on Chipmunk Road that we had orders to keep an eye on. Kids used to hang out there. One night before Halloween I was on patrol and stopped to check it out. It was a fire hazard, what with oil lamps, candles, and smokin’. I saw no cars parked, no lights inside, but I heard a baby cryin’. I knew it wasn’t some kind of bird or animal. I went in with my flashlight, and there on an old broken-down table was a soup carton with this little red thing no bigger’n a skinned squirrel, and it was yellin’ its head off! There was no note – no clue – nothin’! I rushed it to old Dr. Goodwinter’s house – remember him? – and got him out of bed. The mother was never identified.”
“How did he get named John Campbell? That’s a prominent name around here.”
“Social Services took over, and at first he was just John Doe, but nobody wanted to adopt him and give him a name, so they took the one off the soup carton.” Brodie stopped for a chuckle. “He was a ward of the county after that, kicked around a whole string of foster homes. I kept track of him, sort of like a godfather. I saw him grow big, drop out of school, go back to play football.”
“Lois Inchpot took an interest in him.”
“Yeah, she’s a good woman – tough but goodhearted. When Boze started classes at MCCC and workin’ the desk at the inn, you could’ve knocked me over with a feather. That fella has the strength and skill of a backwoodsman.”
Qwilleran said, “It would make a good headline if his mother came forward – now that he’s a hero.”
“Nah, she’d never do it. Too many unknowns! How would her son react? How would the taxpayers react, after supporting him all these years? Would she have to answer charges of infant abandonment? What kind of life is she living now?… Nah, she’ll let sleeping dogs lie, so forget your headline.”
“Pour another drink, Andy, and I’ll get out some cheese.”
Qwilleran’s visitor was loosening up, and it was time to change the subject. “What do you think about the strange case at the inn, Andy? Too bad it happened on the heels of the grand opening.”
