The Big Cat Nap

sheriff’s department can hire is if someone retires. I’m not faulting the county. The financial crisis has impacted law enforcement and fire departments all over. I was lucky to get today off, but I’ve worked two weeks straight. And Rick is working too hard, way too hard. I’m worried about him. The constant prodding from the media about the two murders isn’t helping. My boss is a good sheriff and a good man. He wants to find the perp, as do we all, but this is quite an odd case. Like most cases, sooner or later it will crack.”
    “I hope so,” Susan forthrightly said. “But Ned declares murder is the easiest crime to commit if you plan carefully.”
    “Yes and no.” The deputy stretched out her long legs. “Nine times out of ten the perp is right in front of you. Most murders aren’t premeditated. Sloppy jobs. Well, maybe I shouldn’t say that, but there are professionals, like in every other human activity. Those peoplereally know how to take someone out. People with big egos can plan a murder, but if they aren’t professionals, they’ll likely slip up.”
    “Think the ReNu murders bear that stamp?” Harry asked. “Professional?”
    “No. No.” Cooper sat up straight. “But they were committed by someone intelligent.”
    “So you believe the two deaths are connected?” Susan ate a cookie, crumbs falling on her thin summer camp shirt.
    “I find it unlikely that two mechanics from the same company were killed without a connection.”
    “BoomBoom and I went to the drag races last night. I mean, I’ve always wanted to see them, but I was also kind of curious,” Harry confessed.
    “Kind of?” Susan’s perfectly plucked eyebrows arched upward.
    “We are gearheads.” Harry’s lower lip protruded slightly. “Have you been over to see them?” Harry turned her attention to Coop.
    “Rick and I drove over, talked to the owner, walked the track the day after Nick was killed. We haven’t found a link there, either.”
    “Well, why would any murders be linked to drag racing?” Susan wondered.
    “Endorsements. Someone wants Castrol oil and someone is their competitor?” Harry threw that out.
    “Harry, not at this level of racing. Granted, there can always be some sort of personal hatred, and I remind you that Walt didn’t even actually race. The one thought that’s crossed my mind and Rick’s is the possibility of a gambling ring.”
    “Among the racers?” Susan found this pretty interesting.
    “Perhaps. Or the ring could be tied to larger drag races or NASCAR. Gambling makes millions, just not for the gamblers.”
    “Even at the level of Central Virginia Hot Rod Track?” Susan furrowed her brow.
    “Depends on how wide the clientele. Yes, even in Waynesboro, a gambling ring could be netting six or seven figures. Once you pay your workers and the setup costs, illegal activity is one hundred percent pure profit.” Coop held up the Mason jar.
    “So it is.” Harry sat silently for a long time.

R osebushes, pink, white, and yellow, filled half of Harry’s truck bed. This Wednesday, June 13, pyracanthas filled the rest of the space. Once these were in the ground at St. Luke’s, she’d return, filling hers and everyone else’s truck bed with hydrangeas in full flower.
    She parked near the graveyard at St. Luke’s. Wearing her kid gardening gloves, she quickly unloaded the bushes.
    Dee Phillips, Ph.D., had designed the plantings for the peaceful, beautiful grounds. Harry and friends provided the grunt work, which Harry liked okay.
    Miranda Hogendobber, using a tape measure, had carefully marked out the proper distance between the plants. Usually Miranda would eyeball it, but since these roses and pyracanthas would go in at
the church
, she wanted the plantings to be just so.
    Susan, BoomBoom, and Alicia were digging the holes. A bag of Miracle-Gro, three watering buckets, and three measuring cups lay on the clipped grass. The hose from Herb’s garage had been stretched to the max.
    Tucker dashed to the graveyard. The cats jumped on the stone walls to watch the dog sniff tombstones.
    “And?”
Pewter asked.
    “No one’s been here.”
By this, Tucker meant no dogs had peed on the tombstones.
    “Good. Best to respect the dead.”
Mrs. Murphy looked as Elocution, Cazenovia, and Lucy Fur bounded across the emerald green, the colors of their shiny fur made even more vivid by the grass carpet.
    “Hooray.”
The cats cheered as they reached the stone wall, all three bounding