Shekel Dubloon, Weeder’s Clump’s famous banker, vacationed for a month in a remote place in South America. He deliberately isolated himself so that he knew nothing of what happened at home. Upon his return, he asked Boone Fowler to tell him the news. At first Boone said there was no news, but after Shekel pressed him Boone remembered that Shekel’s favorite cat Minky had died.

“Can you tell me anything about the circumstances of Minky’s death?” Shekel asked.

Boone nodded sympathetically and replied, “Well, as far as we can tell Minky died of overeating.” 

How on earth did that happen?” Shekel asked, somewhat dumfounded.

Well, your barn burned down and burned up your prize bull Toro, and after the fire cooled down Minky went in and feasted on Toro’s remains. Apparently Minky ate too much and that’s what killed him,” Boone said.

“Oh, my barn burned down, eh? How did my barn catch on fire? Shekel asked.

Boone scratched his head and said, “A spark from your burning house flew over and set your barn on fire, burned up Toro, and afterwards Minky ate too much of Toro and died.

Shekel began to shake his head in disbelief. Then he asked, “How did my house catch on fire?”

This time Boone answered directly and with authority, “The fire was started by some candles. They caught the curtains on fire, and a spark from your burning house flew over and caught your barn on fire.”

Shekel was nonplussed. He said, “Candles? Candles? Was there a power failure?”

Boone replied quickly, “Oh, no, Boss. 

The candles were burning around the coffin.”

“Coffin? Who died, pray tell?” Shekel asked.

“It was your mother-in-law, Boss. We had her laid out awfully nice, with the candles and all, but the candles set the curtains on fire, and a spark from your burning house flew over and caught the barn on fire and burned up Toro. Minky went over and ate too much and that’s what killed Minky.”

“Oh, my mother-in-law died, eh? When I left she was as healthy as a horse. I thought that she would outlive all of us. What happened to her?” 

“Well, Boss, she had a heart attack after learning that your wife ran off with Joris Prudence. They withdrew all of your cash and took your baseball card collection as well as your dog, Copper. Folks say that Copper didn’t go willingly, though.”

Shekel smiled ruefully, nodded, and said, “Deep down I always suspected that Joris had the hots for Goldie, and now I know for sure.”

“Well, Boss, Doc Slaughter said your mother-in-law could have survived the heart attack except for two complications.”

Shekel looked very interested and asked, “Pray tell, what were the complications?”

“Well, first, your daughter Medalia decided to set up housekeeping in a little shack down by the railroad tracks. Some folks said she was a dandy housekeeper. But one night she attended a concert and heard Sludge Hauler Willie sing “Rolling in My Sweet Baby’s Arms,” and she fell for Willie like a ton of bricks. She said that Willie’s smile was like sudden glory bursting through a clouded sky. She begged him to let her be his Main Squeeze. We don’t know where they went.”

“What was the second complication?” Shekel asked.

“Well, your son Numis was in his cups at Suds Guzzle’s, and he made a pass at Mimsy Livingood. Everyone knows that Mimsy is Clint Wormwood’s girl. So Clint sent his buddies to visit Numis. They played “The Fat City Tango” on his skull and threw him in a boxcar headed for Florida. The other day Suds Guzzle got a postcard from Numis, who wrote that he had gotten a job as a chad assessor for the Miami Fair Elections Board. It will be a frosty Friday before we see Numis back here.” 

“I was counting on Numis to handle the savings and loan scandal that is sure to come. You just can’t relax regulations on loans and not expect the crooks to move in. It’s Sutton’s Law.”

“Boss, forgive my ignorance, but what is Sutton’s Law?” 

“It’s a law attributed to Willie Sutton, the famous bank robber. When they asked Willie why he robbed banks, he said, ‘Because that’s where the money is.’” 

Boone stared in admiration and respect at Shekel. Then he said in genuine sympathy, “Mr. Dubloon, I am truly sorry your cat died. I know he was special to you, and I didn’t want to have to give you that news. By the way, the next time you go on vacation, would you take me with you? Nothing ever happens around here. All we have for excitement is to go to Provender’s Market and see the fruit flies fight over the bananas or watch ‘Desperate Housewives’ and Honey Boo Boo on television.” 

[Professor Logsdon has taught 24 years at Western Illinois University and 27 going on 28 at Eureka College.]