Free The Cat Who Tailed a Thief by Lilian Jackson Braun

when he moved to Indian Village.
    Qwilleran had a strong desire to investigate this lead, considering Red Cap a latter-day Fagin, but he had to postpone extracurricular activity and work on the “Qwill Pen.” Finding subject matter in winter was a greater problem than in summer, and this year he had encountered a few dead ends. The dowsing story was on hold until spring thaw; a piece on mushroom-growing had hit a credibility snag; it was too soon to write about the Ice Festival; Carter Lee was not ready.
    In a quandary, Qwilleran paced back and forth across a floor that bounced more than usual. Suddenly there was a crash near the front door, and two cats fled from the foyer, either frightened or guilty. He had hung his snowshoes on the foyer wall, with their tails crossed, and the Siamese had ventured to investigate something new.
    First, he phoned Polly at the library, asking if there might be a book on the fine points of snowshoeing and, if so, would she bring it home? Meanwhile he gave the sport a try. He was clumsy. He tripped. His right shoe stepped on his left shoe. After he got the hang of it, he enjoyed tramping through the silent woods, although certain thigh muscles protested. When he wrote his column on the joys of snowshoeing, it began: “Did you ever try walking through snow with your feet strapped to a couple of tennis rackets?”
    * * *
    Qwilleran was one of those invited to join the Nouvelle Dining Club. The prospectus—signed by Mildred Riker, Hixie Rice, and Willard Carmichael—stated: “We are committed to quality rather than quantity, pleasing the palate with the natural flavors of fresh ingredients seasoned with herbs, spices, and the essence of fruits and vegetables.”
    For each monthly dinner, a committee would plan the menu, assign cooking responsibilities, and provide the recipes. One member would host the event and serve the entrée. Others would bring the appetizers, soup, salad, and dessert courses. Expenses would be prorated.
    Qwilleran signed up, volunteering for the wine detail, and he and Polly attended the first dinner one evening in January. It was held at the Lanspeaks’ picturesque farmhouse in West Middle Hummock. Twelve members assembled in the country-style living room and talked about food as they sipped aperitifs.
    Mildred entertained listeners with an account of her first cooking experience at the age of eleven. “I was visiting my aunt and was watching her make BLT sandwiches for lunch. Just as she started the bacon, the phone rang and she left the room, saying, ‘Watch the bacon, Millie.’ I did what she told me; I watched the strips turn brown and shrink and curl up. She kept yakking on the phone, and I kept watching the frying pan, and the bacon kept getting smaller and blacker. Just as I was opening a window to let out the smoke, my aunt came running. ‘I told you to watch the bacon!’ she screamed.”
    Everyone laughed, except Danielle Carmichael, who looked puzzled. Foodwise she was at age eleven, according to her husband. Since he and Carter Lee had left for Detroit, she had driven to the dinner with Fran Brodie. Hixie Rice and Dwight Somers had carpooled with the Rikers. The Wilmots lived nearby.
    For the sit-down courses, three tables-for-four were set up in the family room. There were place cards, and Qwilleran found himself seated with Mildred, Hixie, and Pender Wilmot. He noted that Riker and Dwight were the lucky ones, seated with Danielle. At each place there was a printed menu:
    Smoked whitefish on triangles of spoon bread with mustard broccoli coulis
    Black bean soup with conchiglie (pasta shells)
    Roast tenderloin of lamb in a crust of pine nuts, mushrooms, and cardamom
    Purée of Hubbard squash and leeks
    Pear chutney
    Crusty rolls
    Spinach and redleaf lettuce tossed with ginger vinaigrette and garnished with goat cheese
    Baked apples with peppercorn sauce
    Mildred said, “The menu is built around local products: lamb, whitefish, beans, squash, goat