Rosemary tumbled out of the car, laughing at Qwilleran's spluttering amazement. "How- what — how — ?" "The former tenant offered to sell it for fifty dollars, and I thought you could afford that much," she said. "I had fun driving up here with the bear in the front seat, but the state troopers stopped me and said it was a motoring hazard. I pushed the head down under the dashboard, but it kept popping up… What's the matter, dearest?

You're rather subdued." "There's been a shocking incident here," Qwilleran told her, "and if you want to turn around and go home, I won't blame you." "What on earth — ?" A murder, half a mile down the beach." "Someone you know?" He nodded sadly.

Rosemary raised her chin in the determined way she had. "Of course I'm not going home.

I'm going to stay here and cheer you up. You've been too solitary, and you've probably been eating all the wrong food, and you've been spending too much time at the typewriter instead of getting exercise." That was his Rosemary — not as young as some of the women he had been seeing; in fact, she was a grandmother. But she was an attractive brunette with a youthful figure, and she was comfortable to have around. Once, when he had made some foolish attempt at rigorous exercise, she had given him a remarkably skillful massage.

"Please bring in my luggage, dearest, and show me where I'm going to sleep. I'd love to have a shower and a change of clothes. Where are the beautiful cats? I've brought them some catnip." Koko and Yum Yum remembered her from Maus Haus and reacted to her presence without feline warine_ss but also without overt friendliness. Occasionally, when she had visited Qwilleran's apartment, they had been locked in the bathroom.

Rosemary's vitality and dewy complexion and bright eyes were the result, she claimed, of eating the Right Food, some of which she had brought along in a cooler. With the Right Food warming in the oven and the bearskin rug grinning on the hearth, the cabin felt homey and comfortable. Koko walked across the cassette player, and they had music.

"Aimez-vous Brahms?" Qwilleran asked.

"What?" Rosemary often missed the point of his quips.

He inquired about the situation at Maus Haus. "It's terrible. The cook has left. Hixie never says anything funny. Charlotte cries all the time. And one night the immaculate Max had a spot on his tie. You're so lucky to have this cabin for the summer, Qwill. It's so lovely. There are violets and trilliums all along the driveway, and I've never seen so many goldfinches, and the chipmunks are so cute." Rosemary noted and commented on everything: the white linen slipcovers on the sofas, the mauve and turquoise tints of the lake as the sun sank, the tall oak candlestick on the porch, the moose head and crosscut saw over the mantel.

"The pickax! Where's the pickax?" Qwilleran exclaimed, jumping to his feet. "There was an antique pickax up there a week ago. I don't know, Rosemary. People walk in and out of this cabin like it's a bus terminal. It's considered unfriendly to lock doors. My good watch has disappeared and — worst of all — the gold pen you gave me. And now the pickax is missing." "Oh, dear," she said sympathetically.

"Everything around here is strange. The police set up roadblocks just for fun. Nobody has a last name. There are footsteps on the roof in the middle of the night. The cats spend all their time staring at the septic tank." "Oh, Qwill, you must be exaggerating. You're punchy from eating the wrong food." "You think so? Well, this is a fact: Koko found a cassette hidden behind the moose head, with a threatening message recorded right in the middle of the music. And when I went fishing, I hooked the body of a man." Rosemary gasped. "Who was it?" "I don't know. It went back to the bottom of the lake, and everybody tries to tell me it was an old rubber tire." "Qwill, dearest, are you sure you're getting enough fresh fruit and vegetables?" "You're like all the others," he complained, "but there was one person who believed me, and now he's dead, with his skull bashed in." "Oh, Qwill! Don't meddle with these things. You might be in danger yourself." "We'll see about that," he said. "Let's eat. But first I want to feed the cats. A nice

woman down the beach sent over some meat loaf, and I've conned them into thinking it's p?t‚ de foie gras." "Have you met many nice women down the beach?" Rosemary inquired sweetly. "I thought you were up here to write a book." They talked far into the night. Qwilleran couldn't stop. He told her about the Nasty Pasty and the FOO, cherry blossoms and mosquitoes, agates and gravediggers, the Goodwinters and the Whatleys, shipwrecks and poachers, Little Henry and Big George, Night's Candles and Bob's Chop Shop.

Rosemary could no longer control her yawns, which she tried to disguise as laughs, coughs, and hiccups. "Dearest, I've been driving all day," she said. "Isn't it about time…?" After a prolonged good-night she escaped to the guest room and dislodged the Siamese from their favorite bunk. Qwilleran went to his own bed and thought about Rosemary for ten minutes, worried about the unlocked door for seven, and pondered the mystery of Buck Dun field's murder for four and a half before falling into a deep sleep.

He was waked by horrendous screaming. He leaped out of bed. It was just outside his window. "Rosemary!" he shouted.

"What's that?" she cried. Lights were turned on. Koko dashed about with his ears laid

back. Yum Yum hid. Rosemary came running from the guest room in her red nightgown.

The sound of wordless struggle in the underbrush ceased, and the screams gradually diminished in volume, fading away into the night stillness.

Qwilleran grabbed a flashlight and a poker from the fireplace.

"Don't go out there, Qwill!" Rosemary cried. "Call the police!" "It won't do any good. I reported one incident this week, and they made me feel like a fool." "Please call them, Qwill. It could be murder, or rape, or abduction. Some woman walking on the beach. It was a woman screaming." "It sounded like a banshee to me." Succumbing to Rosemary's pleas he phoned the sheriff's office. He gave his name and location and described the episode as calmly and objectively as possible.

In answer to a question he said: "No, there's not another house for quarter of a mile, but people walk on the beach in the middle of the night… Yes, it's heavily wooded.

… There were sounds of struggling in the woods. No other voice — just the screams..

.. Very loud at first — utter panic. Then they got weaker and just died away… A what?… Hmmm. Very interesting. Do you think that's what it was?… It certainly did… Well, thank you, officer. Sorry to bother you." Qwilleran turned to Rosemary. "It was an owl, swooping down on a rabbit and carrying it away." "Is that what he said? Well, I don't care; it scared me out of my skin. I'm still shaking. I'd feel a lot safer in your room. Do you mind?" "No, I don't mind," Qwilleran said, grooming his moustache.

"The cats would like it better, too," said Rosemary. "They seem to think I've taken their bed."