The Cat Who Had 60 Whiskers by Lilian Jackson Braun Page B

for dining out. The Mackintosh Inn is too formal, the Grist Mill too festive, the Boulder House too far.”
    â€œWhy not get a picnic supper catered by Robin O’Dell, Qwill, and serve it in the gazebo? You don’t know how lucky you are to have premises that are screened.”
    Qwilleran said, “Once in a while you come up with a good idea…. Have another splash in your glass.”
    â€œAnd if there’s anything Polly doesn’t know about those horse people in Lockmaster, call on me. I can give you some ancient history about Bestbooks, Qwill. It’s been in the same family for a hundred years, you know. At one time they kept a bottle in the back room and had a men’s club back there. Lots of loud laughter and bawdy jokes. Parents put the whole store off-limits to kids. Women wouldn’t go in to buy a cookbook. They lost a lot of business to mail order and secondhand and the public library.”
    Qwilleran said, “The librarians of both Lockmaster and Pickax became great friends at that time. That’s why Polly was invited to Shirley’s birthday party yesterday.”
    Joe drained his glass and headed for the back door.
    â€œBefore you go, Joe, one question. Does Jet Stream accept food from the automatic feeder?”
    â€œHe’ll take anything he can get…. Why?”
    â€œWhen Koko hears the little bell ring and sees the little door open, he looks at the food in disbelief and then looks up at me and shakes his right paw—then sniffs the dish again and shakes his other paw before walking away.”
    Â 
    There was time, before Polly came from the bookstore, to call Celia and order a picnic supper.
    Celia said, “Does she like cold soup? I have some lovely gazpacho. And I have individual quiches in the oven with bacon and tomato. For dessert, chilled Bartlett pears would be nice, with a bit of Stilton…. Pat can deliver it after five o’clock, and I’ll send a little goodie for the cats.”
    When Polly drove to the barn around six o’clock, Qwilleran said, “We’ll have an aperitif in the gazebo. Will you take the cats?”
    She knew right where to go for their “limousine,” a canvas tote bag in the broom closet, advertising the Pickax Public Library. Qwilleran carried a tray with sherry for her and Squunk water for himself. “I want to hear all about the Birthday Party of the Century.”
    â€œWell!” she said, promising a momentous report. “You wouldn’t have liked it, Qwill. The main dining room looked like a stable—tack hanging on the walls, waitresses in riding boots—everything but the horses! I thought the food was terrible! I ordered salmon; I don’t know what they did to it.”
    Parodying an old joke, Qwilleran said, “Apart from that, Mrs. Duncan, how did you like the party?”
    â€œThere were forty guests at long institutional tables…forty frosted cupcakes, each with a tiny candle, and a matchbook…forty gift-wrapped birthday presents, including one that must have been a refrigerator and one that was obviously a bicycle!”
    â€œHow did the guest of honor react?”
    â€œShirley is always charming. She told her son she would like everything trucked to her home—where she could open the small ones with her shoes off and her cat on her lap. She said she would send everyone a thank-you note suitable for framing. That means an original cartoon.”
    â€œShirley sounds like a clever woman. I’m sorry I never met her…. What about the guessing games? You haven’t mentioned them.”
    â€œThey were boring: Why does the firefly flash his light? Who owns the Volvo company in Sweden? Who explored Idaho in the early nineteenth century?”
    They were both accustomed to Literary Club questions. Who wrote these lines: “She walks in beauty like the night…” “Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow creeps in this petty