The Cat Who Knew Shakespeare by Lilian Jackson Braun

work. She’d have to be proved mentally incompetent. It’s her own property now, and she can do whatever she wishes.”
    At that moment Mrs. Cobb, in robe and bedroom slippers, made an abrupt appearance in the doorway. “Look out the window!” she said in alarm. “There’s a fire on Main Street! It looks like the lodge hall’s on fire!”
    Qwilleran and Jody jumped up, and all three of them hurried to the front windows.
    “That’s Herb’s lodge,” Mrs. Cobb said. “This is their meeting night. There could be thirty or forty people in the building.”
    “I’ll drive down and see,” Qwilleran said, “Come on, Jody, and I’ll take you home afterward. Out this way… back door… car’s in the garage.”
    Downtown Main Street was filled with flashing blue and red lights. Traffic was rerouted, and fire trucks were parked in an arc, training their headlights on the center of the block. The pumpers were working, and fire hoses were pouring water on the roof of the three-story lodge hall. Beyond that building there was an orange-red glow with flames leaping upward – then a hiss of steam – then a cloud of smoke.
    Qwilleran parked, and he and Jody walked closer.
    “It’s the Picayune!” he shouted. “The whole building’s on fire!”
    Jody started to cry. “Poor Juney!” she kept saying. “Poor Juney!”
    “They’re hosing down the lodge hall to keep it from catching,” Qwilleran said. “The post office, too. The newspaper plant is going to be totaled, I’m afraid.”
    “I think that’s what his father was trying to tell him in the dream,” she said. “Can you see Juney?”
    “Can’t recognize anyone in those helmets and rubber coats. Even their faces are black. Dirty job! The white helmet is the fire chief, that’s all I can tell.”
    “I hope Juney doesn’t do anything crazy, like running into the building to save something.”
    “They’re trained not to take foolish risks,” Qwilleran assured her.
    “But he’s so impulsive – and sentimental. That’s why he’s taking it so hard – his mother selling the Pic, I mean.” A sudden look of horror crossed her face. “Oh, no! William Allen’s in there! They always lock him up for the night. I’m going to be sick…”
    “Easy, Jody! He may have escaped. Cats are clever… Come on. We can’t stay here. It’s icing up, and you’re shivering. The men will be on the job for hours, mopping up and looking for hot spots. I’ll drive you home. Will you be all right?”
    “Yes, I’ll wait up till Juney comes home. He’s been staying at my place since his father died, you know.”
     
    At the K mansion Qwilleran found Mrs. Cobb at the kitchen table, still in her pink robe, drinking cocoa and looking worried. “There’s no news on the radio,” she said anxiously.
    “It wasn’t the lodge hall,” Qwilleran told her. “It was the Picayune building. It’s gutted. More than a century of publishing destroyed in half an hour.”
    “Did you see Herb?” She poured a cup of cocoa for Qwilleran. It was not his favorite beverage.
    “No, but I’m sure he was there, swinging an ax.”
    “He shouldn’t be doing such strenuous work. He’s over fifty, you know, and most of the men are much younger.”
    “You seem unusually concerned about him, Mrs. Cobb.” He gave her a searching look.
    The housekeeper lowered her eyes and smiled sheepishly. “Well, I admit I’m fond of him. We always have a good time together, and he’s beginning to drop hints.”
    “About marriage?” Qwilleran’s dismay showed in his brusque question. As a housekeeper she was a jewel – too valuable to lose. She had spoiled him and the Siamese with her cooking.
    “I wouldn’t stop working, though,” Mrs. Cobb hastened to say. “I’ve always worked, and this is the most wonderful job I ever had. It’s a dream come true. I mean it!”
    “And you’re perfect for the position. Don’t rush into anything, Mrs. Cobb.”
    “I won’t,” she promised. “He