The Cat Who Tailed a Thief Read Free Page A

deportment raises eyebrows and causes snickers. They call her voice cheap. It is rather strident.”
    “Rather,” Qwilleran said. It was unusual for Carol to be so critical and so candid.
    “Well, let me know if you think of something we can do. . . Shall I gift wrap Polly’s suit and blouse?”
    “Please. I’ll pick them up later. Go easy on the bows and jingle bells.”
    He next went to Amanda’s Design Studio, hoping to find a decorative object for the Rikers and hoping that Fran Brodie would be in-house. The police chief’s daughter was out, unfortunately, and her cantankerous boss was in charge. Amanda Goodwinter was a successful businesswoman and a perennial member of the Pickax City Council, always re-elected because of her name. The Goodwinters had founded Pickax in the mid-1800s.
    Amanda’s greeting was characteristically blunt. “If you’re looking for a free cup of coffee, you’re out of luck. The coffeemaker’s on the blink.” Her unruly gray hair and drab, shapeless clothing were considered “interestingly individual” by her loyal customers. Her political enemies called her the bag lady of Pickax.
    To tease her, Qwilleran said he wanted to buy a knickknack for a gift.
    She bristled. “We don’t sell knickknacks!”
    “Semantics! Semantics! Then how about a bibelot for Arch and Mildred Riker?”
    She huffed and scowled and suggested a colorful ceramic coffeepot, its surface a mass of sculptured grapes, apples, and pears.
    “Isn’t it a trifle gaudy?” Qwilleran complained.
    “Gaudy! What are you saying?” Amanda shouted in her council chamber voice. “It’s Majolica! It’s hand-painted! It’s old! It’s expensive! The Rikers will be crazy about it!”
    “I’ll take it,” Qwilleran said, knowing that Mildred was a collector with an artist’s eye and Arch was a collector with an eye for the bottom line. “And I’d like it gift wrapped, but don’t fuss.”
    “I never fuss!”
    * * *
    For the other names on his list he relied on the new Sip ’n’ Nibble shop. They would make up gift baskets of wine, cheese, and other treats and deliver them anywhere in the county by Christmas Eve.
    On a whim he also went into the men’s store to buy a waggish tie for Riker, who was known for his conservative neckwear. It was bright blue with a pattern of lifesize baseballs, white stitched in red. He hoped it would get a laugh.
    His final stop was the Pickax People’s Bank to cash a check, and the sight of the famous moustache created a stir. Customers, tellers, and security personnel smiled, waved, and greeted him:
    “Merry Christmas, Mr. Q!”
    “All ready for Santa, Mr. Q?”
    “Finished your Christmas shopping, Mr. Q?”
    He responded with courteous bows and salutes and took his place in line.
    The gray-haired woman ahead of him stepped aside. “Are you in a hurry, Mr. Q? You can go first.”
    “No, no, no,” he remonstrated. “Thank you, but stay where you are. I like to stand in line behind an attractive woman.”
    The commotion brought a man striding from an inner office with hand outstretched. “Qwill! You’re the exact person I want to see! Come into my office!” The new banker had the suave manner, expensive suit, and styled hair of a newcomer from Down Below.
    Qwilleran followed him into the presidential suite and noted a few changes: a younger secretary, more colorful furnishings, and art on the walls.
    “Have a chair,” Carmichael said. “I hear you’re living in Indian Village now.”
    “Only for the winter. The barn’s not practical in cold weather. How about you? Have you moved into your house?”
    “No, we’re still camping out in an apartment at the Village. Danielle has ordered a lot of stuff for the house, but it takes forever to get delivery. Expensive as hell, too, but that’s all right. My sweetheart likes to spend money, and whatever keeps her happy keeps me happy. . . Say, are you free for dinner tonight? I’ve been wanting us to get