Read Online The Cat Who Played Post Office by Lilian Jackson Braun - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lilian Jackson Braun
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doors never fit properly. There are too many places for an inquisitive animal to get lost." "He wasn't lost," Melinda said with a smug smile. "It's simply that you couldn't find him." "For that astute observation you'll be rewarded with a nightcap. Would you like Scotch, bourbon, white grape juice, a split of champagne? I also have beer, in case Penelope's maintenance man ever shows up to fix the doors." "What are you drinking?" "Club soda with a twist." "I'll have a split." Qwilleran carried the tray of drinks into the library and slipped the ivory elephant into a desk drawer. "Would you enjoy some music? There's a prehistoric stereo here, and an odd assortment of records that you could use for paving a patio.
This house came equipped with seven television sets, and I'd like to trade in six of them for a new music system." "Don't you like TV?" "I'm a print man. The printed word does more for me than the small screen." After some grinding and humming and a loud clunk the record changer produced some romantic zither music, and they sat on the blood red leather sofa that Qwilleran had recently shared with Penelope Goodwinter, but there was no briefcase between them and considerably less space.
He said, "Koko has an uncanny talent for finding objects of significance. I don't usually mention it because the average person wouldn't believe it, but I feel I can confide in you." "Any time," Melinda said with an agreeable inflection in her voice.
"It's good to have a confidante." His mournful eyes met her inviting green gaze and the world stood still, but the magic moment was interrupted by a simulated catfight in the foyer. Qwilleran huffed into his moustache, and Melinda sipped her champagne and looked at the three walls of bookshelves.
"Nice library," she said. "Yes. Good bindings." "Mostly classics, I suppose." "It appears so." "Did the Klingenschoens read these?" "I doubt it... Melinda, did you ever see Daisy Mull? What did she look like?" "Hmmm... tiny... reddish hair... pouty mouth. Daisy was quite visible in Pickax. She and her girlfriend used to stand outside the music store and giggle when cars tooted their horns, Her clothes were flashy by Pickax standards, but that was a few years ago. Things have changed. Today even the middle-aged women in Pickax have given up lavender sweater sets and basket bags." Qwilleran draped an arm over the back of the sofa, musing that a firm, shiny, slippery upholstery left something to be desired. A loungy, down-filled, velvety sofa would be more seductive; at least, that had been his experience in the past.
"Why did you name your cats Koko and Yum Yum?" Melinda asked. "Are you a Savoyard?" "Not especially, although I like Gilbert and Sullivan, and in college I sang in The Mikado." "You're an interesting man, Qwill. You've lived every, where and done everything." He groomed his moustache self-consciously, "It helps you've been around as long as I have. You've always dated young squirts from medical school." "Not true! I'm always attracted to older men. Eyelids with a middle-aged droop turn me on." He leaned closer to add champagne to her glass. There was a sense of pleasurable propinquity, and then the tall case clock started to bong eleven times and Koko walked into the library. Walking with a stiff-legged gait and tail at attention, he looked at the pair on the sofa and uttered an imperious "YOW!" "Hello, Koko," Melinda replied. "Are you and I going to be friends?" Without a reply he turned and left the scene, and a moment later they heard another insistent howl. "Something's wrong," Qwilleran said. "Excuse me." He followed the cat and found him in the vestibule, staring at the front door.
"Sorry, Koko. Wrong time of day. The mail comes in the afternoon." Returning to the library, Qwilleran explained the cats' obsession with the mail slot. Casually he was maneuvering to resume the intimate mood that had been interrupted, when Koko stalked into
This house came equipped with seven television sets, and I'd like to trade in six of them for a new music system." "Don't you like TV?" "I'm a print man. The printed word does more for me than the small screen." After some grinding and humming and a loud clunk the record changer produced some romantic zither music, and they sat on the blood red leather sofa that Qwilleran had recently shared with Penelope Goodwinter, but there was no briefcase between them and considerably less space.
He said, "Koko has an uncanny talent for finding objects of significance. I don't usually mention it because the average person wouldn't believe it, but I feel I can confide in you." "Any time," Melinda said with an agreeable inflection in her voice.
"It's good to have a confidante." His mournful eyes met her inviting green gaze and the world stood still, but the magic moment was interrupted by a simulated catfight in the foyer. Qwilleran huffed into his moustache, and Melinda sipped her champagne and looked at the three walls of bookshelves.
"Nice library," she said. "Yes. Good bindings." "Mostly classics, I suppose." "It appears so." "Did the Klingenschoens read these?" "I doubt it... Melinda, did you ever see Daisy Mull? What did she look like?" "Hmmm... tiny... reddish hair... pouty mouth. Daisy was quite visible in Pickax. She and her girlfriend used to stand outside the music store and giggle when cars tooted their horns, Her clothes were flashy by Pickax standards, but that was a few years ago. Things have changed. Today even the middle-aged women in Pickax have given up lavender sweater sets and basket bags." Qwilleran draped an arm over the back of the sofa, musing that a firm, shiny, slippery upholstery left something to be desired. A loungy, down-filled, velvety sofa would be more seductive; at least, that had been his experience in the past.
"Why did you name your cats Koko and Yum Yum?" Melinda asked. "Are you a Savoyard?" "Not especially, although I like Gilbert and Sullivan, and in college I sang in The Mikado." "You're an interesting man, Qwill. You've lived every, where and done everything." He groomed his moustache self-consciously, "It helps you've been around as long as I have. You've always dated young squirts from medical school." "Not true! I'm always attracted to older men. Eyelids with a middle-aged droop turn me on." He leaned closer to add champagne to her glass. There was a sense of pleasurable propinquity, and then the tall case clock started to bong eleven times and Koko walked into the library. Walking with a stiff-legged gait and tail at attention, he looked at the pair on the sofa and uttered an imperious "YOW!" "Hello, Koko," Melinda replied. "Are you and I going to be friends?" Without a reply he turned and left the scene, and a moment later they heard another insistent howl. "Something's wrong," Qwilleran said. "Excuse me." He followed the cat and found him in the vestibule, staring at the front door.
"Sorry, Koko. Wrong time of day. The mail comes in the afternoon." Returning to the library, Qwilleran explained the cats' obsession with the mail slot. Casually he was maneuvering to resume the intimate mood that had been interrupted, when Koko stalked into
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