Prizewinning reporter Jim Qwilleran and his Siamese cats, Koko and Yum Yum, must solve a complicated caper while on vacation in this charming cozy mystery in the  New York Times  bestselling Cat Who series. Jim Qwilleran is enjoying his stay at the Nutcracker Inn in Black Creek. His two Siamese, Koko and Yum Yum, don’t seem quite as pleased with the accommodations...though Koko does enjoy keeping a keen eye on the squirrels and other local wildlife. Then, while Koko’s eagerly watching some jumping trout, he spots something else: a body floating downstream. When it’s revealed that the victim was a guest at the inn—and had nuggets of gold hidden in his shoes—Qwill dives into the case. And if he and the cats don’t solve it soon, they’re going to be up the creek without a paddle... Praise for Lilian Jackson Braun and the Cat Who series “A master of mystery.”— People “Upbeat prose and amiable characters.”— Publishers Weekly “The mix of crime and cats [is] catnip to readers who like both.”— Chicago Sun-Times “Braun keeps both paws on the side of charming.”— Los Angeles Times The history of Lilian Jackson Braun is perhaps as exciting and mysterious as her novels. Between 1966 and 1968, she published three novels to critical acclaim:  The Cat Who Could Read Backwards, The Cat Who Ate Danish Modern , and  The Cat Who Turned On and Off .  In 1966, the New York Times  labeled Braun, “the new detective of the year.” Then, for reasons unknown, the rising mystery author disappeared from the publishing scene. It wasn’t until 1986 that Berkley Publishing Group reintroduced Braun to the public with the publication of an original paperback,  The Cat Who Saw Red . Within two years, Berkley released four new novels in paperback and reprinted the three mysteries from the sixties. Since then, G.P. Putnam’s Sons has published seventeen additional novels in the Cat Who series. Braun passed away in 2011. chapter one It was Skeeter Week in Moose County, 400 miles north of everywhere. Armies of young enthusiastic mosquitoes rose from woodland bogs and deployed about the county, harassing tourists. Permanent residents were never bothered. And, after a while, even newcomers developed an immunity, attributed to minerals in the drinking water and in the soil that grew such flavorful potatoes. As for the summer people, they bought quantities of insect repellent and went on praising the perfect weather, the wonderful fishing, and the ravishing natural beauty of Moose County. One morning in mid-June a columnist for the Moose County Something was working against deadline, writing his annual thousand-word salute to Skeeter Week. With tongue in cheek he reported readers' exaggerated claims: A farmer in Wildcat had trained a corps of skeeters to buzz him awake every morning in time for milking. A music teacher in Pickax City had a pet skeeter that buzzed Mendelssohn's "Spinning Song." He was no backwoods journalist. He was James Mackintosh Qwilleran, former crime writer for major newspapers Down Below, as the locals called all states except Alaska. A freak inheritance had brought him north to Pickax, the county seat (population 3,000). It also made him the richest man in the northeast central United States. (It was a long story.) He cut a striking figure as he went about, interviewing and making friends for the paper. He was fiftyish, tall, well built, with an enviable head of graying hair and a pepper-and-salt moustache of magnificent proportions. But there was more to the man than an instantly recognizable moustache; he had brooding eyes and a sympathetic mien and a willingness to listen that encouraged confidences. Yet, his friends, readers, and fellow citizens had come to realize that the sober aspect masked a genial personality and sense of humor. And everyone knew that he lived alone in a converted apple barn, with two Siamese cats. Qwilleran wrote his column, "Straight from the Qwill Pen," on an old electric typewriter at the barn, closely supervised by his male cat. As he ripped the last page out of the machine, Kao K'o Kung, with an internal growl, let him know the phone was going to ring. It rang, and a familiar woman's voice said anxiously, "Sorry to bother you, Qwill." "No bother. I've just finished-" "I need to talk to you privately," she interrupted, "while my husband is out of town." Qwilleran had a healthy curiosity and a journalist's taste for intrigue. "Where's he gone?" "To Bixby, for plumbing fixtures. It may be foolish of me, but-" "Don't worry. I'll be there in a half hour." "Come to the cottage in the rear." Lori and Nick Bamba were the young couple who had come to his rescue when he was a greenhorn from Down Below getting bitten by mosquitoes. She was a small-town postmaster then; he was chief engineer at the state prison. They had two ambitions: to raise a family and to be innkeepers. When Qwilleran had an opportunity to recommend them for the new Nutcracker Inn located in Black Creek, he was happy to do