The Big Cat Nap

me.”
    “We know.”
Again, the three chimed in unison.
    Harry tickled Mrs. Murphy’s ears as the cat sat next to her on the log. “I think I know people. Then I wonder.”
    “Start with yourself,”
Pewter smarted off.

D aylight savings time starts so early now.” Harry washed snap peas in the sink, tossing them in a pot when clean.
    “I like more light when I get off duty, but I don’t like getting up in the dark.” Cooper sliced little strips of bacon on the small butcher cutting board.
    Pewter leaned on Coop’s leg as the tall woman performed this task.
    “You’re not getting any,”
Tucker predicted.
    “Yeah, you’re just saying that to make me let my guard down. If she drops any, you’ll scarf it up.”
    “You snooze, you lose.”
Tucker blinked.
    Mrs. Murphy, on her side, tail slowly rising and falling, stayed out of it. Her two companions had been sniping at each other all day. It wearied her.
    Harry opened the oven. “Ought to be ready when he gets home. Now that foaling season is over, we can once again have regular meals. Fair works so hard.”
    “Yes, he does.” Coop appreciated Fair’s many fine qualities, perhaps even more than Harry did, since she didn’t have to deal with any of the irritating ones.
    “You’re staying for dinner.” Harry raised one hand. “You’ve had a long day, you’re helping me with the snap peas, so just agree with me.”
    “I need to weed my garden.”
    “I’ll help you do that tomorrow. Unlike most people, I actually like weeding the garden.” Harry paused long enough to pour a little butter over the roasting chicken, then closed the oven door. “When’s Rick get back?”
    “He’ll be back at work tomorrow. I’ll be glad to see him. The crime-scene team, the photographer, they all did their usual professional job, but something about this murder doesn’t sit right. Usually, when you go to a crime scene, what happened is pretty obvious.”
    “That’s not how the TV shows present it,” Harry wryly noted.
    “Wouldn’t be any show if they did, now, would it?” Coop finished up with the bacon, scraping it into the pot with the snap peas. “What next?”
    “You can wash the lettuce. I’m making a simple salad. I’ve got to get my husband to eat more greens.”
    Pewter grimaced. “Rabbit
food
.”
    “Yeah, I need to do that, too,” Coop said.
    “So what’s different about this murder?”
    “Oh, like I said, if you’ve been in law enforcement for a while, most of the murders you see aren’t premeditated. Some are, but most of them are fights that escalate, maybe domestic violence that got out of hand or the wife finally decided to fight back. It’s cut-and-dried. I’ll tell you what bothers me a lot about this murder. All those guys at the garage drag race. Walt, on the other hand, restored old cars. Still, they seem to have all gotten along. Setting aside Kyle, the five mechanics working that day all gave exactly the same statement.”
    Harry turned to look at the younger deputy. “Which is?”
    Coop wiped her hands. “Hold on.”
    She ran out to her car, took out her reporter’s notebook.
    “Maybe she’ll take the grease from the chicken and pour it on our crunchies.”
Pewter would have made a wonderful chef had she been human—a step down, in her mind.
    “Good idea.”
Mrs. Murphy sat up.
    Coop returned to the kitchen, leaving the door open. A light breeze wafted through the screened-in porch off the kitchen; all the windows were open, too.
    “Okay. ‘We stayed late at lunch.’ ”She read from her notebook.
    “That’s it?”
    “Every single one of them said just that, followed by, ‘We figured we’d stay a half hour late and make up the time later that day.’ ”
    “Hmm.”
    “They also agreed that Walt left early for lunch and returned to ReNu earlier than the other workers.” She looked up from her reporter’s book.
    “Sounds rehearsed,” said Harry.
    “Well, it’s got me thinking. Usually in a situation like this, someone or another gets all shook up and rattles on. If there’s a group, they speak over one another, contradict one another. It can get emotional.”
    “Well, some did go outside and throw up when they saw the gore.”
    “Did you see them throw up?” Coop put the notebook on the table, grabbed the head of romaine lettuce, and began washing it.
    “Coop, I’m not going outside to watch people puke.”
    “I understand that, but I didn’t see any evidence of lunch.”
    Harry made