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Authors: Lilian Jackson Braun
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by a door that latched poorly, it was the servants' stairs to the second floor- a narrow flight with rubberized treads. Qwilleran bounded to the top, followed by Melinda, and they emerged in a hallway with a series of doors. Two doors stood ajar. One opened into a walk-in linen closet. The second gave access to another flight of ascending stairs, wide but un- finished and dusty. "The attic!" Qwilleran exclaimed. "It was supposed to be a ballroom. Never finished." Flipping wall switches, he scrambled to the top, sneezing. Melinda ventured up the stairs cautiously, shielding her mouth and nose with her hand.
The staircase ended in a large storage room illuminated faintly by fading daylight through evenly spaced windows and by eight low-wattage light bulbs dangling from the ceiling.
Qwilleran called the cat's name, but there was no answer. "If he's up here, how will we find him among all this junk?" The space was littered with boxes, trunks, cast-off furniture, framed pictures, rolls of carpet, and stacks of old National Geographics.
"He could be asleep, or sick, or worse," he said.
"Could we lure him out with a treat?" Melinda suggested.
"There's a can of lobster in the food pantry. Open it and bring it up." When she had run downstairs, Qwilleran stood still and listened. The floorboards had stopped creaking. The hum of traffic on Main Street seemed far away He held his breath. He could hear a familiar sound. What was it? He strained to listen. It was scratching - the whisper of claws gliding over a smooth surface. He followed the sound noiselessly.
There, in a far comer of the attic, stood a large carton, and Koko was on top of it with his hind end elevated and his front assembly stretched forward as he scratched industriously.
"Koko! What are you doing up here?" Qwilleran demanded in the consternation that followed his unnecessary panic.
Then a prickling sensation on his upper lip caused him to investigate the scene of the action. A corrugated carton that had once contained a shipment of paper towels was tied with twine and labeled with a tag on which was a name in excellent handwriting: Daisy Mull.
By the time Melinda returned with the lobster, Qwilleran had untied the carton and was tossing out articles of clothing.
"This is astonishing!" he shouted over his shoulder. "There's something important about this box, or Koko wouldn't have found it." Out of the carton came a musty-smelling jacket of fake fur in black and white stripes unknown to any animal species, along with a woolly stocking hat that had once been white and a pair of high red boots with ratty fur trim. There were faded flannel shirts, well-worn jeans, two maid's uniforms, and a sweatshirt printed with the message: TRY ME. A small item wrapped in a wad of newspaper proved to be an ivory elephant with Amanda's studio label on the bottom of the teakwood base.
Qwilleran said, "Obviously she went south when she cleared out - to some climate where she wouldn't need winter clothing. Probably California. Dreamers always head for California, don't they? And she left her uniforms behind, so she didn't plan a career as a domestic." "But why would she leave the elephant? If she liked it enough to steal it, wouldn't she like it enough to take it along?
You can tell it's valuable." "Smart question," Qwilleran said as he piled the clothing back into the carton. "You take the elephant; I'll carry Koko - if I can find him. Where did he go?" Having finished the can of lobster, the cat was cleaning his mask, whiskers, ears, paws, chest, underside, and tail.
"Either he was trying to tell us something about Daisy Mull," Qwilleran said, "or he thought of a sneaky way to get an extra meal." The three of them returned to the main floor, carefully closing the door to the attic stairs. It immediately popped open.
"That's typical of old buildings," Qwilleran complained. "The
The staircase ended in a large storage room illuminated faintly by fading daylight through evenly spaced windows and by eight low-wattage light bulbs dangling from the ceiling.
Qwilleran called the cat's name, but there was no answer. "If he's up here, how will we find him among all this junk?" The space was littered with boxes, trunks, cast-off furniture, framed pictures, rolls of carpet, and stacks of old National Geographics.
"He could be asleep, or sick, or worse," he said.
"Could we lure him out with a treat?" Melinda suggested.
"There's a can of lobster in the food pantry. Open it and bring it up." When she had run downstairs, Qwilleran stood still and listened. The floorboards had stopped creaking. The hum of traffic on Main Street seemed far away He held his breath. He could hear a familiar sound. What was it? He strained to listen. It was scratching - the whisper of claws gliding over a smooth surface. He followed the sound noiselessly.
There, in a far comer of the attic, stood a large carton, and Koko was on top of it with his hind end elevated and his front assembly stretched forward as he scratched industriously.
"Koko! What are you doing up here?" Qwilleran demanded in the consternation that followed his unnecessary panic.
Then a prickling sensation on his upper lip caused him to investigate the scene of the action. A corrugated carton that had once contained a shipment of paper towels was tied with twine and labeled with a tag on which was a name in excellent handwriting: Daisy Mull.
By the time Melinda returned with the lobster, Qwilleran had untied the carton and was tossing out articles of clothing.
"This is astonishing!" he shouted over his shoulder. "There's something important about this box, or Koko wouldn't have found it." Out of the carton came a musty-smelling jacket of fake fur in black and white stripes unknown to any animal species, along with a woolly stocking hat that had once been white and a pair of high red boots with ratty fur trim. There were faded flannel shirts, well-worn jeans, two maid's uniforms, and a sweatshirt printed with the message: TRY ME. A small item wrapped in a wad of newspaper proved to be an ivory elephant with Amanda's studio label on the bottom of the teakwood base.
Qwilleran said, "Obviously she went south when she cleared out - to some climate where she wouldn't need winter clothing. Probably California. Dreamers always head for California, don't they? And she left her uniforms behind, so she didn't plan a career as a domestic." "But why would she leave the elephant? If she liked it enough to steal it, wouldn't she like it enough to take it along?
You can tell it's valuable." "Smart question," Qwilleran said as he piled the clothing back into the carton. "You take the elephant; I'll carry Koko - if I can find him. Where did he go?" Having finished the can of lobster, the cat was cleaning his mask, whiskers, ears, paws, chest, underside, and tail.
"Either he was trying to tell us something about Daisy Mull," Qwilleran said, "or he thought of a sneaky way to get an extra meal." The three of them returned to the main floor, carefully closing the door to the attic stairs. It immediately popped open.
"That's typical of old buildings," Qwilleran complained. "The
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