Picture a bustling Midwestern metropolis, cloaked in the chill of a gusty December day. Braun masterfully orchestrates the entrance as if directing a stage play: a middle-aged reporter strides in first, shadowed by his two mysterious Siamese cats. Their identities remain a secret until a brief exchange with a desk clerk unveils the man's name as Mr. Qwilleran, or simply Qwill, and their mystical feline companions are later addressed by name.

The narrative unfolds with a dramatic flair akin to ancient Greek tragedies, where the horror of violence is already a shadow looming over the story. The novel opens with the mention of a chilling murder: Andrew Glanz, found gruesomely pierced by a roof finial. Details are sparse, revealed through the hesitant accounts of Glanz's girlfriend and his wary landlady, who both seem eager to dismiss the death as a mere "accident." Even when Qwill stumbles upon the second victim, Braun shuns sensationalism, presenting only the skeletal facts.

In a clever twist, Braun introduces an inventive technique through the intuitive actions of the Siamese cats. KoKo and Yum-Yum, behaving true to their feline nature, inadvertently guide Qwill to crucial discoveries, including a vanished manuscript and an incriminating audio recording. As Qwill learns to interpret the cats' subtle signals, his innate Scottish sensitivity seems to heighten, with his twitching moustache mirroring the cats' own whiskers in perceptive harmony.

Moreover, The Cat Who Turned On and Off foreshadows a modern trend in mystery novels, depicting a microcosm where startling acts of violence shatter the peace. Though Qwill insists he's merely a reporter on a mission, and he taps into his network of newspaper contacts for insights, this tale veers away from the gritty realism of a journalist's daily grind. Once Qwill immerses himself in The Junkery, his world narrows to focus on Junktown and its colorful inhabitants. Within this enclave, the shared passion for antiques weaves a tight-knit community, echoing the quaint villages of classic puzzle mysteries. Braun enriches this world with a vivid tapestry of human characters, presenting a broad spectrum of society.

Set against the backdrop of a nation captivated by the evolution of its own infrastructure, The Cat Who Turned On and Off explores a pivotal dilemma of the 1960s: the tug-of-war between preserving history and embracing urban development. It seemed inevitable to many — from high-flying bank officials to everyday cabbies — that Junktown would soon be demolished, giving way to sleek new buildings housing chic offices, trendy boutiques, and luxury apartments. Yet, amidst this modernizing fervor, a growing awareness began to take root. People started to appreciate the charm of their cultural legacy and the distinct ethnic tapestries woven into these neighborhoods. Beyond mere nostalgia, the revitalization of such areas emerged as a compelling and financially savvy alternative to tearing down the old to make way for the new. The debate between these opposing views often ignited fierce battles over the destiny of specific structures and districts.

Further complicating the landscape of change was the question of the Establishment's duty toward neglected zones. As Qwill delves deeper, he finds outsiders quick to label these places as crime-ravaged, inhabited by those seemingly indifferent to their own wellbeing or that of their surroundings. Consequently, essential city services frequently fall by the wayside, taxi drivers deride the decaying neighborhood, and the phone company imposes steep, triple deposits. Resigned to this dismissal, most residents see their plights overlooked, with voices like that of activist C. C. Cobb falling on deaf ears at City Hall. Yet, hope flickers when Qwill rallies support from Mary's father, the influential banker Percival Duxbury, and the...