The Cat Who Knew Shakespeare by Lilian Jackson Braun Page B

or the patient would die of blood poisoning. Grandfather talked about performing surgery by candlelight in a log cabin while a member of the family shooed flies away from the open incision. That was over a hundred years ago, you understand. When my father began his practice, conditions had improved. He had an office in our front parlor, and he made house calls in a buggy or sleigh, and he had a full-time driver who lived in the stable and took care of horses. The driver – Zack was his name – later went to work for the Picayune and achieved notoriety by killing Titus Goodwinter.
    Do you know the circumstances?
    To go back a bit, Zack’s father was a miner, blown to bits in an underground explosion. Zack became a bitter and violent man who regularly beat his wife and two children. Father used to patch them up and report it to the constable, but nothing was done about it. Zack’s young daughter worked at the Picayune, too, and Titus, who was a flagrant roue, seduced the poor girl. She drowned herself, and Zack went after Titus with a hunting knife. Not a pretty story.
    Was the Picayune a good newspaper in its early days?
    Well… I’ll tell you… if you’ll turn that thing off.
    End of interview.
     
    After Qwilleran snapped off the tape recorder, Mrs. Gage said, “I can speak to you confidentially because you’re a friend of my favorite grandson. Junior speaks highly of you. The truth is: I have never thought well of that branch of the Goodwinter family, nor of the newspaper they published. Ephraim, the founder of the Picayune, was not a journalist. He was a rich mine owner and lumber baron who would do anything for money. It was his avarice and negligence that caused the terrible mine explosion, killing thirty-nine men. Eventually he took his own life. His sons were no better. His grandson, Senior, was a strange one; he was interested only in setting type!” She rolled her eyes in derision.
    “Why did your daughter marry him?” Qwilleran asked bluntly, since Euphonia was noted for blunt candor.
    “Gritty had always wanted to marry a Goodwinter, and she always did exactly what she wanted. It was a strange match. She’s a spirited girl who likes a good time. Senior had no spirit at all and was certainly not my idea of a good time. How they produced Junior, I can’t explain. He’s too small to be Gritty’s offspring – she’s such an amazon! – and too smart to be Senior’s son.”
    “Recessive genes,” Qwilleran said. “He resembles his grandmother.”
    “You are a charming man, Mr. Qwilleran. I wish Junior might have had you for a father.”
    “You are a charming woman, Mrs. Gage.”
    They both paused for a moment of mutual admiration, and he found himself wishing she were thirty years younger. Spirit – that’s what she had – spirit! Probably the result of all that breathing.
    “Do you think Junior shows promise?” she asked.
    “Great promise, Mrs. Gage. You can be proud of him. Were you aware that the Picayune was failing?”
    “Of course I was aware. I tried to help. I don’t know what that man did with my money, unless…”
    “Unless what, Mrs. Gage?”
    “I’ll be perfectly frank. Let it all hang out, as Junior says. You see, I learned in a roundabout way that Senior had been making frequent one-day trips Down Below. To Minneapolis, as a matter of fact. If my son-in-law had ever shown any spirit, I would have guessed it was another woman. Under the circumstances, I could only deduce that he was gambling as a last resort – gambling and losing.”
    “Has it occurred to you that his death may have been suicide?”
    She looked startled. “Senior would not have the spirit, Mr. Qwilleran, to take his own life.”
    Upon leaving, he said, “You are an excellent subject for an interview, Mrs. Gage. I hope we can meet again – perhaps for dinner some evening.”
    “I shall be delighted to accept if the invitation is still good in the spring. I leave for Florida tomorrow,” she said. “This