The Big Cat Nap

unfairly singled out for censure.” He laughed. “Could be a bank.”
    Victor, perspiring, rejoined them.
    “How’s Bobby?” Latigo reached into the small backpack cooler and handed Victor a much-needed beer.
    He offered drinks to the ladies, who passed.
    “Pumped up.”
    “Good heat,” Latigo commented.
    “He’s improving. My only worry about Bobby is he wants to tear the engine apart and bore out the cylinder a tiny bit more. He’s going to wind up with cylinders thin as paper.”
    “He’ll get a bigger blast,” Harry laconically said.
    Victor, who knew by reputation of Harry’s fascination with vehicles, thought a moment, then encouraged her. “I expect Nick’s WRX STI at his mother’s isn’t a welcome sight. I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want it. If you like, since I’m in constant contact with her, I can gently suggest she might want to sell it. She’s probably already thought of it.”
    “Really?” Harry felt her heart beat a tiny bit faster. “I’m sure it’s too expensive.”
    BoomBoom giggled. “Harry thinks a loaf of bread is too expensive.”
    “Hateful.” Harry closed her eyes for a moment, but she was smiling.
    “The book value for that year and model”—Latigo knew so many of these figures by heart—“is about $30,500.”
    “More, buddy. Nick put so much into that car.” Victor looked at his friend.
    “He did, but his mother will get that back only if another racer buys it, and the group that races here just doesn’t have that kind of money to go buy another car or a second car. They’ve got all the car they can handle. If Mrs. Ashby needs the money or just wants to not look at it—too vivid a reminder—she’ll go with regular retail.”
    “The loan should be about in the $24,500 figure.” Latigo folded his arms across his chest.
    Harry’s face fell. “We’ve got a 2750 John Deere to repair.”
    “Don’t give up just yet.” BoomBoom touched Harry’s hand. “Put it in your back pocket, unless,” she turned to Victor, “you think the car will sell quickly.”
    “No. Mrs. Ashby’s dealing with so much right now. The poor woman is grief-stricken. Leave it to me. Okay?”
    “Now, Victor, I’m not making a commitment.” Harry felt a tug of panic.
    “I know.”

C ooper envied so many things about Miranda: her garden, her green thumb, her gift with color. On Saturday, June 9, the Blue Ridge Mountains were so clear that Coop felt she could see every leaf on every tree. The fine weather lifted her spirits, which surely needed lifting. So far the investigation into the deaths of the two ReNu employees had yielded nothing.
    On her hands and knees pulling out burdock root—a miserable job, since the root surely went all the way to China—Coop reviewed the case.
    Over and over again she returned to the identical statements of the mechanics: Bobby Foltz; Lawrence Pingrey, called Lodi; Jason Brundige; and Sammy Collona. You’d think the shock of seeing their co-worker with his brains bashed out would provoke an emotional torrent, if not of loss then of fear. Not so.
    After Nick was found shot, Cooper had returned to ReNu. The mechanics’ statements were again, while not identical, disquietingly neutral—somber, yes, but still neutral. Nick was liked. While perceived as Walt’s protégé because of his talent, he still got along great with the other guys. They all raced and, besides, Nick had an infectious charm.
    The four remaining mechanics knew a bit about one another’s personal lives, but their real connection was cars. They all mentioned what a looker Hilary Larson was as well as the highly appealing factthat she liked cars. None of them knew Nick was making payments on an engagement ring. Given the short duration of their relationship, Nick was impulsive—not always a bad thing when it comes to romantic love.
    The mechanics at the garage knew Nick’s mother, whom they liked. Victor and all the body-shop men had called upon her, and they all attended Nick’s funeral.
    Coop had also questioned the body-shop men. The mechanics and the body-shop fellows worked in different buildings. Each group kept to their own peers. As the work was constant, sometimes pressured, this made sense. The body-shop guys liked Nick. He was easygoing. Seemed everyone liked the fellow.
    In exasperation, Coop got up, bent over, and grabbed the burdock in both hands, after having loosened the soil. She pulled with all her might. The tall, strong officer sweated, cursed,