The Big Cat Nap

call the sheriff. And, Mackie, let’s see who notices when they arrive for work.”
    Mackie’s dark eyes widened. “You don’t think one of the boys did it, do you?”
    “No. We have a good team. But what I’m curious about is how long it takes our guys to notice and what happens when they do. It teaches you about people.”
    Mackie nodded, as always impressed by Franny’s shrewdness. He briskly walked to the metal door that enclosed the expensive security system.
    Franny hurried back into the office to call the sheriff on a landline. Put it on a computer, call from your cellphone, and it was out in the world, never to be recalled. One could never control the new technology, despite loud government and corporate protests to the contrary. All this whirled through her mind as she dialed.
    No sooner had she spoken to the sheriff’s department than Mackieopened the door into the front area. He was a large man, and she recognized his heavy tread. Emerging from her office, she smiled at him. She trusted Mackie; they’d worked together since she founded the business in the mid-eighties, a time when it was not terribly easy for a divorced woman to get a business loan.
    “Our security system was disabled. Whoever did this knew about more than tires,” Mackie told Franny.
    “How’d they get the door open?”
    “I think with a tiny welding flame. Just sliced clean through the lock. I checked the regular door into the service area. M.O.”
    “Mackie, can I get you a drink?”
    He smiled. “No. Tell you what, it was a shock.”
    “Yes.” She looked at him imploringly for a moment. “Why do people steal? It takes so much knowledge, so much hard work. Wouldn’t it be easier to be upright?”
    He shrugged. “Greater profit, no taxes, I guess. And if this is a large operation … well,” he fumbled, “there must be some sort of protection if the thief is caught.”
    “Yes, yes. You always see things I don’t.” She flattered him, but it was the truth. “Stupid criminals act on impulse. Intelligent ones plan and protect one another.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    “I am, too.” She smiled at him, remembering how young he was when she hired him, her first hire. “But we’ll get through it. We always do.”
    “We will,” he said with conviction.
    With Rick at the wheel on their way up Route 29, Cooper took the dispatcher’s call. The sheriff decided they could go to ReNu after this. He wanted to question the mechanics at ReNu himself, and Coop wanted to walk through the garage to see if she or anyone else had missed anything. Given the variables at a crime scene, especially murder, things could go overlooked. But Franny’s call required immediate attention.
    Once there, both sheriff and deputy reached the same conclusion that Mackie had: This was the work of professionals.
    Rick took notes while interviewing the other employees of the tire company as they arrived. Cooper listened intently. She was an excellent listener.
    Rick respected Franny and spoke plainly to her. “This is going on all over America. One of the biggest tire heists was a few months ago in Reno.”
    “Why there?” Franny motioned for the front-office girl to simply sit down when she walked into the scene. Isabelle, a bit frightened, did just that.
    Coop looked over at Isabelle and said, “No one was hurt. We just need to ask you and everyone a few questions.”
    “Yes, ma’am,” the diminutive young woman replied.
    Rick leaned toward Franny. “These operations have big warehouses. Huge business. Cheap storage, dry conditions. They set up near a good airport so things can be easily shipped all over. It’s easier for some companies to use those huge storage units for inventory than to take up space at the factory or, worse, build.”
    After Rick and Coop left, Franny sat down to write a preliminary summary of her investigation so far. Never hurt to put it on paper. Making lists, checking inventory—tasks that often bored others—helped her think. As she pulled up her inventory on the computer, she reviewed how many computer systems she’d gone through since starting up. Then she recalled a squib she’d read in
The Kiplinger Letter
, saying that the number of small businesses started by women was growing 50 percent faster than the number of businesses started up by men. She was especially pleased that one of the fields booming with female ownership was construction.
    Franny felt no particular competitiveness against men, but she