Free The Cat Who Knew Shakespeare by Lilian Jackson Braun Page B

treated accordingly.”
    There were sounds of scuffling and snarling inside the hamper as he carried it across the yard to the main house.
    It was Mrs. Cobb’s idea that the Siamese should spend their days among the Oriental rugs, French tapestries, and rare old books of the mansion. “When you have valuable antiques,” she explained, you have four things to fear: theft, fire, dry heat, and mice.”
    At her urging Qwilleran had installed humidity controls, a burglar alarm, smoke detectors, and a direct line to the police station and fire hall. Koko and Yum Yum were expected to handle the other hazards.
    When Qwilleran arrived at the back door with the wicker hamper, the housekeeper called out from the kitchen, “Would you like a mushroom omelette, Mr. Q?”
    “Sounds fine. I’ll feed the cats. What’s in the refrigerator?”
    “Sautéed chicken livers. Koko would probably prefer them warmed with some of last night’s beef Stroganoff. Yum Yum isn’t fussy.”
    After he had finished his own breakfast – a three-egg omelette with two toasted English muffins and some of Mrs. Cobb’s wild haw jelly – he said, “Delicious! Best mushroomless mushroom omelette I’ve ever eaten.”
    “Oh dear!” The housekeeper covered her face with her hands in embarrassment. “Did I forget the filling? I’m so excited about tonight, I don’t know whether I’m coming or going. Aren’t you excited, Mr. Q?”
    “I feel a faint ripple of anticipation,” he said.
    “Oh, Mr. Q, you must be kidding! You’ve worked on this for a year!”
    It was true. To prepare the mansion for public use, the attic had been paneled and equipped as a meeting room. A paved parking lot was added behind the carriage house. Engineers from Down Below had installed an elevator. A fire escape was required in the rear. For barrier-free access there were such accommodations as a ramp at the rear entrance, a new bathroom on the main floor, and elevator controls at wheelchair height.
    “What’s the order of events tonight?” Qwilleran asked Mrs. Cobb. She had chaired the Historical Society committee on arrangements.
    “The members will start arriving at seven o’clock for a conducted tour of the museum. Mrs. Exbridge has trained eighteen guides.”
    “And who trained Mrs. Exbridge? Don’t be so modest, Mrs. Cobb. I know and you know that this entire venture would have been impossible without your expertise,”
    “Oh, thank you, Mr. Q,” she said, flushing self-consciously, “but I can’t take too much credit. Mrs. Exbridge knows a lot about antiques, She wants to open an antique shop now that her divorce is final.”
    “Don Exbridge’s wife? I didn’t know they were having trouble. Sorry to hear it.” Qwilleran always empathized with the principals in a divorce case, having survived a painful experience himself.
    “Yes, it’s too bad,” Mrs. Cobb said. “I don’t know what went wrong. Susan Exbridge doesn’t talk about it. She’s a very nice woman, I’ve never met him.”
    “I’ve run into him a couple of times, He’s an agreeable guy with a smile and a handshake for everyone.”
    “Well, he’s a developer, you know, and I take a dim view of them. We were always fighting developers and bureaucrats Down Below. They wanted to tear down twenty antique shops and some historic houses.”
    “So what happens after the tour of the museum?”
    “We go up to the meeting hall, and that’s when you make your speech.”
    “Not a speech. Just a few words. Please!”
    “Then there’ll be a brief business meeting and refreshments.”
    “I hope you didn’t bake seventy-five dozen cookies for those shameless cookie hounds,” Qwilleran said, “I suspect most of them attend meetings because of your lemon-coconut bars, Will your friend be there?”
    “Herb? No, he has to get up early tomorrow morning. It’s the start of gun season for deer, you know. How about the cats? Will they attend the preview?”
    “Why not? Yum Yum will spend the