Free The Cat Who Played Post Office by Lilian Jackson Braun

the room a second time. Looking sternly at Melinda, he said, "nyik nyik nyik YOW!" And again I he marched to the front door.
     
     
"Does he want to go out?" "No, he's an indoor cat." "He has a noble face, hasn't he?" She glanced at her watch.
     
     
"Siamese are a noble breed." The third time Koko made his entrance, scolding and glaring at the guest, she said, "He's trying to tell me something." She jumped up and trailed after the determined animal, who plodded resolutely toward the front of the house, stopping at intervals and looking back to be sure she was following. In the vestibule he stared pointedly at the door handle.
     
     
"Qwill, I believe he's telling me to go home." "This is embarrassing, Melinda." "That's okay. I have the early shift at the clinic tomorrow." "My apology! He likes the lights turned out at eleven. Next time we'll lock him up somewhere." "Next time," she corrected him, "we'll go to my place - if you don't mind sitting on the floor. I don't have any furniture yet. Only a bed," she added with a sidelong glance. "How soon is next time?" "After the medical conference. When I come back from Paris I'm leaving the Mooseville clinic. I'm tired of taking fishhooks out of tourists' backsides." "What do you plan to do?" "Join my father's office in Pickax." "I'll be your first patient. Can you check cholesterol, heart, and all that?" "You'll be surprised what I can do!" She threw him another of her provocative green-eyed glances.
     
     
Qwilleran escorted Melinda to her silver convertible parked discreetly in the garage - not a bad idea, as it turned out.
     
     
When she finally drove away, he walked back to the house with a buoyant step and found Koko waiting for him with a smug look of accomplishment.
     
     
"You're not as smart as you think you are," Qwilleran said to him, preening his moustache with satisfaction.
     
     
Early the next morning he walked downtown to Amanda's studio to order a sofa. The crotchety designer was out on a house call, but a friendly young assistant produced some catalogues of contemporary furniture. Within five minutes Qwilleran had ordered a slouchy sofa in rust-colored suede, a brown lounge chair and ottoman, and some reading lamps - for his new studio.
     
     
"You have good taste," the assistant said, "and I've never seen a client make such speedy decisions. I'd love to your carriage house when it's finished." "And what is your name?" he asked.
     
     
"Francesca Brodie. My father knows you - by reputation, that is. He's the police chief. Aren't you sort of a detective?" "I like to solve puzzles, that's all," Qwilleran said. "Did you ever know a Daisy Mull who worked here?" "No, I've only been here four months." For the next two days Qwilleran spent most of his time answering the letters that came shooting through the mail slot in great number, much to the delight of the Siamese. Koko personally delivered an envelope addressed in red ink, and he was not surprised that it came from a building in which they had recently lived.
     
     
The letter was written by another tenant, a young woman who used to speak French to Koko and who was subject to problems with weight and problems with men. She wrote:
     
     
Dear Qwill, Arch Riker gave me your address. Congratulations in striking oil. We miss you.
     
     
Want to hear my good news? I'm dating a chef now, and he's not married - or so he says. The bad news is that I've gained ten pounds. I'm still hacking copy at the ad agency, but I'd kill to get into the restaurant business. If you'd like to open a restaurant in Pickax, let me know. Have chef; will travel. Say bon jour to Koko.
     
     
Hixie Rice
     
     
Other letters arrived faster than Qwilleran could poke out answers on his old typewriter. The telephone rang constantly. And there were other interruptions, as when a young man in white coveralls suddenly appeared at the door of the library, carrying a six-pack of diet cola.
     
     
"Hi!" he said. "Mind if I put this in