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left, took two steps from the office as she closed the door behind her, and ran smack into Franny Howard, owner of a large tire store.
    “Harry, I’m so sorry.” Franny’s hand flew to her lips, pink with color.
    Harry laughed. “Hey, I’m just glad you weren’t behind the wheel of your car.”
    “I do a little better there. Not so many distractions. Isn’t your checkup next Wednesday?”
    “Is.”
    “Want me to go with you?” Franny had also survived cancer, before Harry was diagnosed.
    Franny had brought Harry into the cancer support group.
    “Oh, thanks, Franny. I know I’m going to be fine.”
    “Yes, you will. Say, I read in the papers where you, Reverend Jones, and Susan found that body at ReNu Auto Works. Must have been a shock.”
    “Was. No suspects yet. The guy seems to have led a quiet life.”
    “Those are the tough ones. You peel away the layers. There’s always something bubbling at the center, I swear. ReNu undercuts everyone’s prices. I guess if the killer were one of their competitors, they’d have brained Vic Gatzembizi instead.” She named the owner.
    “Have to catch him. He’s on the move between his shops. People like you and Vic have so much ambition.” Harry’s lips curled upward, a wry half smile.
    “Thank you.” Franny nodded. “Victor, you know, just in passing recommends people to me who are looking for new tires. Obviously vehicles in his shop for repair will have to use what the insurance company will pay for. But Victor is good to me, steering—shall we say—non-smacked-up customers?” She lowered her voice. “Hear he’s got ladies in all his shop sites. Bet his wife would kill him if she knew. On the other hand, he gives her everything. Whatever she’s doing, I need to learn. Need to develop those skills.”
    “Honey, I think you have skill enough in that department.” Harry laughed.

    On the way home, with Mrs. Murphy, Pewter, and Tucker all crammed in the front seat, Harry laughed again at Franny. Thinking about cars and tires reminded her she needed to check in with Miranda and that she’d promised to wax Miranda’s Falcon. Given the backlog at ReNu, Miranda would need a loaner. Safe & Sound should supply her with one, but just in case, Harry would offer her the station wagon.
    Harry drove onto the bypass as she headed for Route 250 west. Taking the bypass, she’d avoid a lot of local traffic.
    That plan came to a halt, literally. Flashing lights, policemen, and firemen stopped the flow of cars, trucks, delivery trucks. The line looked to be long.
    “Dammit,” Harry cussed, then read her gas gauge.
    Half a tank. She’d be fine, even if the wait dragged on. She saw Rick Shaw and Coop up ahead, in a heated discussion with a state trooper. He had his hands on his hips, then walked to his cruiser, got in, and called.
    Seeing Harry’s Volvo, Coop walked down to her.
    “Hey, what’s going on?” asked Harry.
    “Milk truck overturned.”
    “So.”
    “Federal law: The butterfat in milk is oil. We have to treat this as an environmental hazard. I’ve just been read the EPA guidelines. Rick and I are trying to convince Johnny Jump Up”—Coop called all state troopers this—“to allow us to create a single lane, since the spill has flowed over the far right lane and into the runoff. But, hey, milk is a danger.”
    “I don’t believe this.”
    “Believe it.” Coop dealt with the endless costly mandates that spewed forth from D.C. every single day.
    Coop turned as Rick called for her, slapping the side of the station wagon as she did so.
    “Mom is boiling hot,”
Mrs. Murphy warned.
    The traffic, directed into a single lane, began moving. As Harry passed the overturned milk truck, Coop winked at her.
    Once finally home, she hurried to her little office in the tack room and turned on her MacBook Pro computer, bought for her by her husband, as she didn’t want to spend the money. He said they needed it for his work. But he really hoped she’d learn