Free The Cat Who Played Brahms by Lilian Jackson Braun Page A

dislodging the receiver. It fell to the bar top with a crash.
    The man seized it. "Hello? Hello?"
    "Oh, there you are," said the gravel voice from Pickax. "I was worried about you, dear. I called yesterday and the phone made the most unusual noises. When I called back I got a busy signal. I finally told the operator to cut in, and she said the phone was off the hook, so I sent Tom out there to investigate. He said the receiver was lying on the bar—and no one was home. You should be more careful, dear. I suppose you're pre-occupied with your book. How is it progressing? Are you still. . ."
    "Aunt Fanny!"
    "Yes, dear?"
    "I spent the day in town. and my cat knocked the receiver off. It's a bad habit he's developed. I'm sorry about it. I'll start keeping the phone in the kitchen cupboard. if the cord will reach."
    "Be sure to close the windows whenever you go out, dear. A squall can come up suddenly and deluge the place. How many chapters of the book have you written? Do you know when it will be published? Tom says the big jack pine has been cut down. He'll be out there tomorrow with a log-splitter. Have you noticed the canoe under the porch? The paddles are in the toolshed. Don't go out in rough weather, dear, and be sure to stay close to shore.
    Now I won't talk any more because I know you want to get back to your writing. Some day you can write my life story, and we'll both make a fortune."
     
    Wearing his orange cap, of which he was getting inordinately fond, Qwilleran drove to Mooseville to mail the letter to Arch. At the post office he sniffed warily but detected only fresh floor wax.
    His next stop was the Cannery Mall, where he decided the aroma of smoked fish was not entirely unpleasant after all. At the medical clinic the young doctor was sitting at the reception desk, reading a gourmet magazine. He was right about her green eyes; they sparkled with youth and health and humor.
    "Remember me?" he began, doffing his cap. "I'm the patient with the Cemetery Syndrome."
    "Glad to see you're not as grouchy as you were yesterday."
    "The shot took effect immediately. Do you get many cases like mine?"
    "Oh, yes," she said. "Ivy poisoning, second-degree sunburn, infected heel blisters, rabid squirrel bites—all the usual vacation delights."
    "Any drownings?"
    "The police emergency squad takes care of those. I hope you're not planning to fall in the lake. It's so cold that anyone who falls overboard goes down once and never comes up.
    At least, that's the conventional wisdom in these parts." She closed her magazine. "Won't you sit down?"
    Qwilleran settled into a chair and smoothed his moustache nervously. "I'd like to ask you a question about that shot you gave me. Could it cause hallucinations?"
    "Extremely unlikely. Do you have a history of hallucinating?"
    "No, but I had an unusual experience after the shot, and no one believes I saw what I saw. I'm beginning to doubt my sanity."
    "You may be the one person in ten million who had an abnormal reaction," the doctor said cheerfully. "Congratulations!”
    Qwilleran regarded her intently, and she returned his gaze with laughing eyes and fluttering eyelashes.
    He said: "Can I sue you for malpractice? Or will you settle for a dinner date?"
    "Make it a quick lunch, and I can go right now," she said, consulting her watch. "I never refuse lunch with an interesting older man. Do you like pasties?"
    "They'd be okay if they had flaky pastry, a little sauce, and less turnip."
    "Then you'll love the Nasty Pasty. Let's go." She threw off the white coat that covered a Mooseville T-shirt.
    The restaurant was small and designed for intimacy, with two rows of booths and accents of fishnet, weathered rope, and stuffed seagulls.
    Qwilleran said: "I never thought I'd be consulting a doctor who is female and half my age and easy to look at."
    "Better get used to the idea," she said. "We're in plentiful supply. . . . You're in good shape for your age. Do you exercise a lot?"
    "Not a great deal," he