A tall, medium built man rolled over in his bed and put his pillow over his head. He groaned and rolled over with the pillow. Stoppppp he yelled, stop that screeching. He abruptly sat up and tossed the pillow across the room. He put his feet in his slippers and padded out of the bedroom and down the stairs. He crossed his living room in five steps and holding his fist to the large window overlooking the back yard began to bang. Stop that eternal screeching he bellowed. Suddenly, surprising him, the screeching stopped. He turned on the outside flood lights, which lit the yard all the way down to a creek and peered out. He could see nothing. He was as perplexed as he had been all week. Each night, an animal or animals began screeching in the middle of the night. Usually their noise woke up his cats, who sometimes joined in the chorus of yeows, and meows and screeches. Tonight his cats remained silent. Perhaps they were getting used to the noise he thought as he stroked his long luxurious mustache. He said out loud, to no one, I wonder if the noise woke up Joe next door this time. His neighbor, Joe Bunker had been heard, yelling and pounding at the sounds the night before. He turned off the floodlights and slowly climbed back up the stairs. As he did, his cats began to yeowwwwwww. All these nightly interruptions had begun to effect their sleep and schedule. They heard him downstairs and thought it was time for breakfast. They did not sound like they were going to stop anytime soon, so he went to their bedroom and let them out. The television he kept on in their room on a nature channel was showing gorillas in the forest. He always kept the sound muted. The cats promptly got in his bed with him and he got into the bed himself, he began stroking the little one, as much to sooth himself as her.

Qwilleran fell into a deep soul satisfying sleep with Koko in the crook of his knees and Yumyum in the crook of one underarm. He woke up a bit cramped to the sound of someone ringing the front doorbell. They had been ringing for awhile before his brain reached consciousness and he grumbled as he dislodged the cats. They two were unhappy over this state of events and yeowed loudly in protest. Qwilleran found his robe and slippers and made his way clumsily down the stairs to the front door. He swung it open and barked, who is it at the same time. It was Amanda Goodwinter and she marched in uninvited. Amanda happened to be the mayor of the fair city in which Jim Qwilleran lived and worked. He had moved to the city of Pickax over a decade before, when he inherited money from a distant "aunt", who had actually been a friend of his mothers and not a "proper" aunt. Qwill, where is your coffee, why don't I smell that tar you call coffee. I need some coffee, Amanda barked as she pushed her way to the kitchen area of the condo Qwill shared with two cats. Amanda, if you will calm down and lower your voice, where I can think, I will brew some. Get quiet, get quiet she bellowed, That wild varmmit yelling and waking up the dead did not get quiet last night. I have not slept in a week, she said, lowering her voice a bit. Qwill went about the routine of making coffee and placed some Scotish shortbread out, slicing it and passing it to Amanda. Well I need some butter on this mess to get it down. I don't know why all you Scots eat this stuff. I would rather havd a doughnut or cinnamon roll, she barked. The coffee began to brew and filled the condo with a rich aroma. He quickly passed a cup to Amanda. We have got to do something about this animal making all this noise. I plan to call the state forest service today she said. As soon as I get to my office. And why isn't your newspaper covering this story. They should get one of their reporters out there tonight and find this animal. Amanda, can you really picture Roger out in the woods at 3 am with a camera and tape recorder, interviewing a screeching animal. Her answer was Hummmmpffff. Well there has to be an agency that is in charge of wild screeching animals. What do you think it is , Qwill?

Thanks for the info on scottish shortbread. I have never had any. And we shall see if this is a "real" panther.............or perhaps............not, lolololol. Joyce your encourgement means alot to me!

By the time Amanda left, Qwilleran was in a foul mood. The early morning visit, coupled with being woken up in the middle of the night several times during the last week left him with a short fuse. He should have just taken a nap when she left, but instead he drove to Lois' Luncheonette. He thought a stack of her pancakes was what he needed. So when he parked downtown and walked up to her door, he was in no mood to see a closed sign and a locked building. He walked briskly, mumbling to himself as he strode toward the office of The Moose County Something, the local newspaper. So briskly, as a matter of fact that he tripped over a slight uneven place in the sidewalk and fell, sprawling on the sidewalk with a thumb. He stayed there. To shocked to immediately get up. He happened to have fallen right in front of "Exbridge and Cobb" Fine Antiques, a classy store owned by Susan Exbridge, who he counted as one of his friends. She came running out of the store and helped him to his feet.

Qwill, Qwill darling.....are you all right. I saw you trip. Here let me help you up. Are you hurt anywhere? No, no, just my pride I think, he answered her as she led him into the store. Here sit down and I will get you some coffee. He sat down at the back of the store where she had a silver service with hot coffee and a silver Victorian tray with slices of cherry coffee cake. He drank the much needed coffee and ate some cake. The color is coming back in your face, Qwill, I think you will be okay. Thank you, Susan. I have had a frustrating morning and missed breakfast. Well, she said, I hope you were not counting on eating at Lois'. She did not open this morning and no one knows why. People have been knocking on the luncheonetter door and gathering and complaining all morning.

Well thank you Susan, I must be going, and thank you for the coffee and cake. No problem Qwill, you just gave me a scare is all.

Qwilleran decided to return to his car and go home and take a long morning nap. This was highly unusual for him, but the lack of sleep was getting to him and had probably caused him to stumble. Before he could get to his car, Junior Goodwinter, editor of the newpaper hailed him......Qwill, Qwill.........I need to talk to you.

I like the action here. It feels very "Pickax". The characterization is on target, too, especially Susan Exbridge, with her "Darling" and her silver coffee service.