The Big Cat Nap

to sue? I don’t have to tell you where I bought the part, nor does any repair shop. I’ll save money using cheap aftermarket parts. Like I said, you have a model that’s old enough, you’re okay, plus I would never do that. I only use genuine parts.”
    “I had no idea.”
    “No one does, really.” He paused. “Someone remodeling an old car loves it. It’s irrational. Someone repairing a tractor needs it. Someone repairing a new car or a new tractor needs it, and usually pronto. A man spends more on his young mistress than on his middle-aged wife.” He glanced down at her. “Maybe that wasn’t the best comparison.”
    “I get it. No apology needed. Men are doing it all over the world.”
    “One woman is expensive enough. Why two?”
    “Dabney, you’re awful.”
    “That’s what Doris tells me.” He laughed.
    “You couldn’t live without her.”
    “That’s the truth. Hand me that ice pick.”
    She held it up for him as he gingerly cleaned out a hole. “That’s how they think Bobby Foltz was killed,” she said. “Ice pick or something thin, they think.”
    “I wouldn’t have looked.”
    “Nothing to see.” Harry shrugged. “Not like Walt Richardson, whom Reverend Jones, Susan, and I found at ReNu.”
    “I don’t even want to look at dead animals on the road.”
    Three hours later, everything replaced, Dabney ran the tractor, declared it fixed, and Harry handed him a check for $5,319. She said a little prayer of thanks for her sunflowers. This prayer didn’t include Yancy Hampton.
    The organic grocer could have used her good wishes, for his middle daughter was very expensively married that Sunday. The reception was at the Randolph Inn, and the caterer misplaced the chicken. After that debacle, Yancy wanted to replace his hysterical wife, who dissolved in a discombobulated fit of anger and raw nerves.
    Yancy remembered what his mother used to say about his father: “Divorce, never. Murder, yes.” Gave him a shiver. There’d been enough murders.

C harleston, South Carolina.” Latigo Bly walked across the inner quad with Reverend Jones.
    The two men had come from Reverend Jones’s garage. Neither one wanted to pass close to the cemetery. Instead, they walked at the edge of the large outer quad, reaching the low fieldstone retaining wall. Herb opened the white-painted half-moon gate, stepping into the rich green space. “Well, I’ll be,” Herb said, in response to Latigo’s mention of Charleston.
    Satisfied that Reverend Jones had evidenced interest, the tall man continued, “It was in 1732. However, this first American insurance company only offered insurance against fire.”
    “I always thought the first person to start an insurance company was Ben Franklin.” Reverend Jones had to take bigger steps to keep up with the long-legged Latigo.
    “That was later, in 1752. He founded the Philadelphia Contributionship for the Insuring of Houses from Loss by Fire.” Latigo chuckled. “No fool, Mr. Franklin. He refused to insure bona fide fire hazards, which meant all wooden houses.”
    “Guess he still made money.”
    “A resourceful, creative man.” Latigo reached the arcade, the stone arches adding to the sense of order and harmony.
    “A highly sexed man, too,” Herb said, then quickly added, “Recent history books make much of it.”
    “Sex sells,” Latigo said without emotion.
    “Maybe you should try it in the insurance business,” Reverend Jones teased him.
    “Sure works in yours. Aimee Semple McPherson, for starters.”
    “Well, if it worked for religious revivalists, it’s got to work for you. Insurance isn’t a—how shall I put this—a lively business? No singing, dancing—”
    Latigo cut in, “Or praising the Lord.”
    The two laughed as Reverend Jones opened the outside door to his office. Asleep on the sofa, curled up together, the three cats lifted their heads, dropped them again.
    “Please sit down.” Herb motioned to a comfortable club chair. “Can I get you any refreshment?”
    “No, thank you. I dropped by to give you the check for your truck.” He reached into his pocket, retrieving an ecru envelope, business logo on the upper left corner.
    “I didn’t expect this so fast.” Reverend Jones opened the envelope with his fingernail, pulled out the check. “Latigo, this really is more than that truck is worth.”
    “It has scrap value.”
    “Thank you. Thank you very much.” Herb replaced the $8,000 check, slipping the envelope into his