The Purrfect Murder

teens. Then your electric bill skyrockets and, for whatever reason, the heat is insufficient.”
    BoomBoom interjected, “Plus you feel the air from the vents. It’s below body temperature, so it always feels cold.”
    “Yes, it does.” He nodded. “However, how many days does the temperature sink like that?” He held up his hands, questioning. “A total of three weeks in the winter. Granted, you might not be as comfortable as you’d like during those three weeks, but you have fireplaces and that helps.”
    “Smells great, too.” Harry used her fireplaces throughout the cold, plus she had a wood-burning stove in the basement, which worked wonders in keeping costs down. She kept the door to the basement open; the big stove was equipped with a blower, and the warm air curled up the stairs and throughout the house. She kept her thermostat at sixty-seven degrees, but the old frame house remained toasty.
    Depend on Harry to find the least expensive way to do something without compromising value.
    “What about oil prices?” Susan asked the obvious, pressing question.
    “They’re going to stay erratic, and it’s not just the Middle East.” Nolan leaned back on the big sofa. “As long as Nigeria is unstable and they blow up oil fields, it’ll cost us. That’s a high-grade oil, some of the best in the world. The short answer is: beware.”
    “Puts you in a spot,” Folly said.
    “Folly”—he turned to her—“it’s more than a spot. I have elderly people on fixed incomes. They won’t be able to pay their heating bills. If I don’t deliver, they’ll freeze. What do I do? Hurt myself or be a good Samaritan? And it’s going to get worse.”
    “You are a good Samaritan, Nolan,” Herb praised him.
    “I think, at this time, go with the heat pump. The system she’s selected here should be good for at least thirty years. By that time there has to be better technology available.”
    “Nolan, why couldn’t we put in the oil furnace and burn ethanol?” BoomBoom liked technical problems.
    “No, no.” He shook his head. “I know that’s hyped as the answer. Someone touts a new technology as the answer and then it isn’t. We’ve got real problems, and I don’t see any shortcuts, despite what the press tells you. Get the heat pump.”
    Herb scanned the gathered. “What do you think? Shall we vote on it?”
    “I move we vote to buy the heat-pump system selected by Tazio,” Harry said.
    “I second the motion.” BoomBoom knew her
Robert’s Rules of Order.
    “All in favor signify by raising your right hand and saying, ‘Aye.’” Herb knew them, too. “The ayes have it.” He chuckled because it was unanimous. “Now for the next question. Do we just do here or do we replace the church system, as well?”
    A silence followed this. No one wished to scoot the budget into the red, but all realized if they put it off it would cost more later, possibly as much as twenty-five percent more.
    Folly had been quieter than usual, but she did smile warmly at Harry, who was glad that she, herself, didn’t carry heavy secrets.
    While this discussion unfolded, the cats and corgi played soccer with a canvas frog jammed full with aromatic catnip.
    When Pewter got the frog, she inhaled deeply, her pupils enlarged, then she batted the frog and rolled over.
    Tucker liked the catnip aroma, but it didn’t have the same effect on her.
    After ten minutes of this, the cats were silly. They flopped on their sides and giggled, the frog now between Cazenovia’s paws.
    The cats’ giggling—little puffs of expelled air—made Tucker giggle, too. She expelled air, too, but it came out with a bit more force and sounded like,
“Ho.”

    Most people don’t think that animals can laugh, but cats, dogs, and horses can.
    Elocution, on her side, reached out to snag the frog.
    “No you don’t.”
Cazenovia sank her claws in the canvas with a pleasing crunch sound.
    “Did I tell you Mom visited Tazio yesterday?”
Mrs. Murphy said to Lucy Fur.
    “No, how is she?”
Lucy asked.
    “Going downhill, Mom thinks. Said she looked worn, thin, just drawn out.”
Pewter supplied the information.
    “But the big news is, the two rats that live in Poplar Forest destroyed evidence,”
Tucker exclaimed.
    Mrs. Murphy, Pewter, and Tucker eagerly related how Randolph and Sarah had eaten the bloody towel, as well as how Sarah “smoked” the Virginia Slims.
    Lucy Fur licked one paw, then sat up, eyes still large.
“Poppy could be in