The Cat Who Came to Breakfast

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by Lilian Jackson Braun




  Read ALL the CAT WHO…mysteries!

  THE CAT WHO COULD READ BACKWARDS: Modern art is a mystery to many—but for Jim Qwilleran and Koko it turns into a mystery of another sort…

  THE CAT WHO ATE DANISH MODERN: Qwill isn’t thrilled about covering the interior design beat. Little does he know that a murderer has designs on a local woman featured in one of his stories…

  THE CAT WHO TURNED ON AND OFF: Qwill and Koko are joined by Yum Yum as they try to solve a murder in an antique shop…

  THE CAT WHO SAW RED: Qwill starts his diet—and a new gourmet column for the Fluxion. It isn’t easy—but it’s not as hard as solving a shocking murder case…

  THE CAT WHO PLAYED BRAHMS: While fishing at a secluded cabin, Qwill hooks onto a murder mystery—and Koko gets hooked on classical music…

  THE CAT WHO PLAYED POST OFFICE: Koko and Yum Yum turn into fat cats when Qwill inherits millions. But amid the caviar and champagne, Koko smells something fishy…

  THE CAT WHO KNEW SHAKESPEARE: The local newspaper publisher has perished in an accident—or is it murder? That is the question…

  THE CAT WHO SNIFFED GLUE: After a rich banker and his wife are killed, Koko develops an odd appetite for glue. To solve the murder, Qwill has to figure out why…

  THE CAT WHO WENT UNDERGROUND: Qwill and the cats head for their Moose County cabin to relax—but when a handyman disappears, Koko must dig up some clues…

  THE CAT WHO TALKED TO GHOSTS: Qwill and Koko try to solve a haunting mystery in a historic farmhouse…

  THE CAT WHO LIVED HIGH: A glamorous art dealer was killed in Qwill’s high-rise—and he and the cats reach new heights in detection as they try to solve the case…

  THE CAT WHO KNEW A CARDINAL: The director of the local Shakespeare production dies in Qwill’s orchard—and the stage is set for a puzzling mystery…

  THE CAT WHO MOVED A MOUNTAIN: Qwill moves to the beautiful Potato Mountains—where a dispute between residents and developers boils over into murder…

  THE CAT WHO WASN’T THERE: Qwill’s on his way to Scotland—and on his way to solving another purr-plexing mystery…

  THE CAT WHO WENT INTO THE CLOSET: Qwill’s moved into a mansion…with fifty closets for Koko to investigate! But among the junk, Koko finds a clue…

  THE CAT WHO CAME TO BREAKFAST: Qwill and the cats scramble for clues when peaceful Breakfast Island is turned upside down by real-estate developers, controversy—and murder…

  THE CAT WHO BLEW THE WHISTLE: An old steam locomotive has been restored, causing excitement in Moose County. But murder brings the fun to a screeching halt…

  THE CAT WHO SAID CHEESE: At the Great Food Explo, scheduled events include a bake-off, a cheese tasting, and a restaurant opening. Unscheduled events include mystery and murder…

  THE CAT WHO TAILED A THIEF: A rash of petty thievery and a wealthy woman’s death leave a trail of clues as elusive as a cat burglar…

  THE CAT WHO SANG FOR THE BIRDS: Spring comes to Moose County—and a young cat’s fancy turns to crime solving…

  THE CAT WHO SAW STARS: UFOs in Mooseville? When a backpacker disappears, Qwill investigates a rumored “abduction”—with the help of his own little aliens…

  THE CAT WHO ROBBED A BANK: As the Highland Games approach, Qwill tries to make sense of Koko’s sudden interest in photographs, pennies, and paper towels…

  THE CAT WHO SMELLED A RAT: A drought plagues Moose County—and a bewildering murder case plagues Qwill and the cats…

  THE CAT WHO WENT UP THE CREEK: While visiting Black Creek, Qwill and the cats must solve the murder of a drowned man before they’re up the creek without a paddle…

  THE CAT WHO BROUGHT DOWN THE HOUSE: Koko’s stage debut is postponed when Qwill suspects the cat’s costar may be guilty of murder…

  THE CAT WHO TALKED TURKEY: A body’s been found on Qwill’s property, and now he and the cats will have to determine who committed this fowl deed…

  THE CAT WHO WENT BANANAS: Koko finds a bunch of clues when an out-of-town actor dies mysteriously…

  THE CAT WHO DROPPED A BOMBSHELL: As Pickax plans its big parade, Qwill and the cats cope with an approaching storm—and two suspicious deaths…

  THE CAT WHO HAD 60 WHISKERS: News of a fatal bee sting has Koko’s whiskers twitching—and Qwill itching to find out more…

  And don’t miss…

  THE CAT WHO HAD 14 TALES

  A delightful collection of feline mystery fiction!

  SHORT & TALL TALES: LEGENDS OF MOOSE COUNTY

  Legends, stories, and anecdotes from four hundred miles north of everywhere…

  THE PRIVATE LIFE OF THE CAT WHO…

  A charming collection of feline antics that provides an intimate look at the private lives of those extraordinary Siamese cats Koko and Yum Yum.

  Titles by Lilian Jackson Braun

  THE CAT WHO COULD READ BACKWARDS

  THE CAT WHO ATE DANISH MODERN

  THE CAT WHO TURNED ON AND OFF

  THE CAT WHO SAW RED

  THE CAT WHO PLAYED BRAHMS

  THE CAT WHO PLAYED POST OFFICE

  THE CAT WHO KNEW SHAKESPEARE

  THE CAT WHO SNIFFED GLUE

  THE CAT WHO WENT UNDERGROUND

  THE CAT WHO TALKED TO GHOSTS

  THE CAT WHO LIVED HIGH

  THE CAT WHO KNEW A CARDINAL

  THE CAT WHO MOVED A MOUNTAIN

  THE CAT WHO WASN’T THERE

  THE CAT WHO WENT INTO THE CLOSET

  THE CAT WHO CAME TO BREAKFAST

  THE CAT WHO BLEW THE WHISTLE

  THE CAT WHO SAID CHEESE

  THE CAT WHO TAILED A THIEF

  THE CAT WHO SANG FOR THE BIRDS

  THE CAT WHO SAW STARS

  THE CAT WHO ROBBED A BANK

  THE CAT WHO SMELLED A RAT

  THE CAT WHO WENT UP THE CREEK

  THE CAT WHO BROUGHT DOWN THE HOUSE

  THE CAT WHO TALKED TURKEY

  THE CAT WHO WENT BANANAS

  THE CAT WHO DROPPED A BOMBSHELL

  THE CAT WHO HAD 60 WHISKERS

  SHORT STORY COLLECTIONS:

  THE CAT WHO HAD 14 TALES

  SHORT & TALL TALES

  THE PRIVATE LIFE OF THE CAT WHO…

  The Cat

  Who

  Came to

  Breakfast

  Lilian Jackson Braun

  JOVE BOOKS, NEW YORK

  THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

  Published by the Penguin Group

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  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, busin
ess establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  THE CAT WHO CAME TO BREAKFAST

  A Jove Book / published by arrangement with the author

  PRINTING HISTORY

  G. P. Putnam’s Sons hardcover edition / February 1994

  First Jove mass-market edition / March 1995

  Copyright © 1994 by Lilian Jackson Braun.

  Excerpt from The Cat Who Blew the Whistle copyright © 1995 by Lilian Jackson Braun.

  Cover image of Dominoes by Ingram Publishing/Fotosearch; cover image of Cat by Corbis/Fotosearch;

  cover image of Pear by SoFood/Fotosearch; cover image of Water Ripples by Comstock/Fotosearch.

  Cover design by Elaine Groh.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street. New York. New York 10014.

  ISBN: 978-1-101-21421-3

  JOVE®

  Jove Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  JOVE® is a registered trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  The “J” design is a trademark belonging to Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

  28 27 26 25 24 23 22

  If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  Dedicated to Earl Bettinger,

  the husband who…

  Table of Contents

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  THE CAT WHO BLEW THE WHISTLE

  It was a weekend in June—glorious weather for boating. A small cabin cruiser with Double-Six freshly painted on the sternboard chugged across the lake at a cautious speed. Stowed on the aft deck were suitcases, cartons, a turkey roaster without handles, and a small wire-mesh cage with a jacket thrown over the top.

  “They’re quiet!” the pilot yelled above the motor noise.

  The passenger, a man with a large moustache, shouted back, “They like the vibration!”

  “Yeah. They can smell the lake, too!”

  “How long does it take to cross?”

  “The ferry makes it in thirty minutes! I’m going slow so they don’t get seasick!”

  The passenger lifted a sleeve of the jacket for a surreptitious peek. “They seem to be okay!”

  Pointing across the water to a thin black line on the horizon, the pilot announced loudly. “That’s our destination!…Breakfast Island, ahoy!”

  “YOW!” came a piercing baritone from the cage.

  “That’s Koko!” the passenger yelled. “He knows what ‘breakfast’ means!”

  “N-n-NOW!” came a shrill soprano echo.

  “That’s Yum Yum! They’re both hungry!”

  The cabin cruiser picked up speed. For all of them it was a voyage to another world.

  Breakfast Island, several miles from the Moose County mainland, was not on the navigation chart. The pear-shaped blip of land—broad at the south end and elongated at the northern tip—had been named Pear Island by nineteenth-century cartographers. Less printable names were invented by lake captains who lost ships and cargo on the treacherous rocks at the stem end of the pear.

  The southern shore was more hospitable. For many years, fishermen from the mainland, rowing out at dawn to try their luck, would beach their dinghies on the sand and fry up some of their catch for breakfast. No one knew exactly when or how Breakfast Island earned its affectionate nickname, but it was a long time before the economic blessing known as tourism.

  Moose County itself, 400 miles north of everywhere, had recently been discovered as a vacation paradise; its popularity was developing gradually by word of mouth. Breakfast Island, on the other hand, blossomed suddenly—the result of a seed planted by a real-estate entrepreneur, nurtured by a financial institution, and watered by the careful hand of national publicity.

  Two days before the voyage of the Double-Six, the flowering of Breakfast Island was the subject of debate on the mainland, where two couples were having dinner at the Old Stone Mill.

  “Let’s drink a toast to the new Pear Island resort,” said Arch Riker, publisher of the local newspaper. “Best thing that ever happened to Moose County!”

  “I can hardly wait to see it,” said Polly Duncan, head of the Pickax Public Library.

  Mildred Riker suggested, “Let’s all four of us go over for a weekend and stay at a bed-and-breakfast!”

  The fourth member of the party sat in moody silence, tamping his luxuriant moustache.

  “How about it, Qwill?” asked Riker. “Will you drink to that?”

  “No!” said Jim Qwilleran. “I don’t like what they’ve done to Breakfast Island; I see no reason for changing its name; and I have no desire to go there!”

  “Well!” said Polly in surprise.

  “Really!” said Mildred in protest.

  The two men were old friends—journalists from “Down Below,” as Moose County natives called the population centers of the United States. Now Riker was realizing his dream of publishing a country newspaper, and Qwilleran, having inherited money, was living a comfortable bachelor life in Pickax City (population 3,000) and writing a column for the Moose County Something. Despite the droop of his pepper-and-salt moustache and the melancholy look in his heavy-lidded eyes, he had found middle-aged contentment here. He walked and biked and filled his lungs with country air. He met new people and confronted new challenges. He had a fulfilling friendship with Polly Duncan. He lived in a spectacular converted apple barn. And he shared the routine of everyday living with two Siamese cats.

  “Let me tell you,” he went on to his dinner partners, “why I’m opposed to the Pear Island resort. When I first came up here from Down Below, some boaters took me out to the island, and we tied up at an old wooden pier. The silence was absolute, except for the scream of a gull or the splash of a fish jumping out of the water. God! It was peaceful! No cars, no paved roads, no telephone poles, no people, and only a few nondescript shacks on the edge of the forest!” He paused and noted the effect he was having on his listeners. “What is on that lonely shore now? A three-story hotel, a marina with fifty boat slips, a pizza parlor, a T-shirt studio, and two fudge shops!”

  “How do you know?” Riker challenged him. “You haven’t even been over there to see the resort, let alone count the fudge shops.”

  “I read the publicity releases. That was enough to turn me off.”

  “If you had attended the press preview, you’d have a proper perspective.” Riker had the ruddy face and paunchy figure of an editor who had attended too many press previews.

  “If I ate their free lunch,” Qwilleran shot back, “they’d expect all kinds of puffery in my column…No, it was enough, Arch, that you gave them the lead story on page one, three pictures inside, and an editorial!”

  The publisher’s new wife, Mildred, spoke up. “Qwill, I went to the preview with Arch and thought XYZ Enterprises did a very ta
steful job with the hotel. It’s rustic and blends in nicely. There’s a shopping strip on either side of the hotel—also rustic—and the signage is standardized and not at all junky.” This was high praise coming from someone who taught art in the public schools. “I must admit, though, that you can smell fudge all over the island.”

  “And horses,” said her husband. “It’s a heady combination, let me tell you! Since motor vehicles are prohibited, visitors hire carriages or hail horse cabs or rent bicycles or walk.”

  “Can you picture the traffic jam when that little island is cluttered with hordes of bicycles and strollers and sightseeing carriages?” Qwilleran asked with a hint of belligerence.

  Polly Duncan laid a hand softly on his arm. “Qwill, dear, should we attribute your negative attitude to guilt? If so, banish the thought!”

  Qwilleran winced. There was some painful truth in her well-intended statement. It was his own money that had financed, to a great degree, the development of the island. Having inherited the enormous Klingenschoen fortune based in Moose County, he had established the Klingenschoen Foundation to distribute megamillions for the betterment of the community, thus relieving himself of responsibility. A host of changes had resulted, some of which he questioned. Nevertheless, he adhered to his policy of hands-off.

  Polly continued, with sincere enthusiasm. “Think how much the K Foundation has done for the schools, health care, and literacy! If it weren’t for Klingenschoen backing, we wouldn’t have a good newspaper and plans for a community college!”

  Riker said, “The Pear Island Hotel alone will provide three hundred jobs, many of them much-needed summer work for young people. We pointed that out on our editorial page. Also, the influx of tourists will pour millions into the local economy over a period of time. At the press preview, I met the editor of the Lockmaster Ledger, and he told me that Lockmaster County is green with envy. They say we have an offshore goldmine. One has to admire XYZ for undertaking such a herculean project. Everything had to be shipped over on barges: building materials, heavy equipment, furniture! Talk about giving yourself a few problems!”

 

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