The Purrfect Murder

people’s feelings.”
    “It does, but people need their little groups. It comforts them.”
    “You’ve been reading Edmund Burke’s
Reflections on the Revolution in France
again.” Harry smiled, as both she and Susan read voraciously, and not fluff.
    “Mmm, no, but I remember it well enough. Back to your point. Yes, it can hurt feelings. Being excluded from a group is painful.”
    Harry shrugged. “Find another group.”
    “Stop being thick. We need to thank Folly at the next board meeting, and I suppose whatever she wants to do in the future we’d better go along on at least one project.” Susan stopped. “Do you hear me?”
    “Yes,” Harry said. “That reminds me. Stay put.” She rose and hurried out the door, the screen door flapping behind her, Tucker running along. She came back and placed Tazio’s papers in front of Susan. “Haven’t even looked at them.”
    “She’s written a cover letter for you.”
    Harry leaned over Susan’s shoulder as they read the letter together. “She’s right.”
    In the letter, Tazio proposed that in the long run it would save money to also replace the furnace in the offices and at Herb’s house when they replaced the furnace in the church. “The cost of materials and labor would rise over the years as surely as the sun rises in the east. Do it now” were her polite but forceful last sentences.
    “She is. Once the workmen are there, just do it all and then every dwelling or business will be on the same system. But, oh, the expense.”
    “Well, if Folly’s given us thirty thousand dollars, why can’t we work really hard to keep the reunion costs down and throw the excess toward the heating overhaul?” Harry suggested.
    “Makes perfect sense, but Folly would have to agree to it. After all, she earmarked the money for the reunion, and she won’t want to cut corners on a social do.” Susan quickly perused the different systems that Tazio included in the folder. “Willikers, I need a course in engineering.”
    “I know.” Harry poured more tea from the large pitcher. “Jesus had it easy. All He had to do was walk around Judea in His sandals. No buildings to maintain. No cars.”
    “Harry.” Susan shook her head.
    “Of course, you’re deeply shocked.”
    “No. I think Christ had it easier than we do because He was born before the credit card.”
    Harry choked on the tea she’d just swallowed. Tears filled her eyes. Susan leapt up to slap her on the back.
    Once recovered, Harry wiped her eyes and murmured, because she still had difficulty speaking, “Kill me. You’ll kill me.”
    They both laughed.
    Susan then said, “As you know, Planned Parenthood is mostly Democrats, so Ned has close ties. I wouldn’t be surprised if at some point Folly will want something for them.”
    Ned, Susan’s husband, was serving his first term as a representative to the state legislature.
    “I hope not. Religion and politics don’t mix.”
    “James Madison showed us the way on that, but, Harry, you know as well as I do that religion is currently being used to divert us from the true political issues. Not that Planned Parenthood is religious, but it is a target of right-wing Christians.”
    “America’s falling apart.” Harry leaned back in her chair, swallowing again to ease the ache in her throat. “It’s such an old trick and it amazes me that people fall for it. Get them lathered over something superficial but emotional so they won’t notice that our interstates need repair, we’re so in debt it’s horrifying, and we’re in a mess in the Middle East that will now last generations. And you know what? I intend to grow my grapes and sunflowers. I want to harvest the timber we share. I’m done worrying about the world. It will get on just fine without me.”
    “It’s a vain hope to be left to private concerns.” Susan, like Harry, wearied of the manufactured crises as well as the genuine articles. “Back to my point: be good to Folly.”
    “I’m always good to Folly.”
    “You don’t like her.”
    “I’m nice to her.”
    “Harry.”
    Harry’s voice rose. “I
am
nice to her.”
    “I’ve known you since cradle days. You can’t stand the woman.”
    “She doesn’t know that.” Harry sighed.
    “Of course she doesn’t. She doesn’t know how we do things in these parts. So keep being nice to her.”
    “I will. Speaking of not liking someone, Carla Paulson was cussing out Tazio. She shut up when I walked into the office. There’s a