the photo.
By now tears were flowing down my face and onto the turtle. I did the only thing I could do when I felt miserable. Tumbling off the turtle, I swam over to poolâs edge, climbed out and sang.
Without you, dear,
I donât know what Iâd do-hoo-hooooo â¦
That song was in my head a lot these days. Not only because Talbot was adapting it to electric guitar. I kept remembering how Dad sang it to his Sweet Sue, Mother.
The hedge rustled. Too big a rustle to belong to a cat. I switched to humming. I tiptoed over to the jittery leaves. Stopped humming and listened.
âIsnât it fantastic?â A young manâs voice, whispering. âNo way Iâm gonna give up now. Weâll have her outta here in no time!â
I wrenched leaves and branches apart. Just as I thought: Bald Guy! Iâd caught him scheming into his cell phone about the pranks against Rowena. He was set on driving the poor woman from her house. Dang, and weâd thought the pranks were over.
Seeing me, he paused in mid-gloat. âEr ⦠Iâll get back to you,â he mumbled into the cell and shut the power off.
âUh, look, Dinah ââ
âDonât Dinah me, you wiener,â I fumed. Make that mega -wiener. He mustâve been eavesdropping like crazy to know my name. I pointed a well-hedge-scratched finger at his cell phone. âI bet the person you were talking to was Itchy, right?â
Bald Guy regarded me oddly. âItâs hard to tell over the phone.â
âNot âitchy.â Itchy ,â I explained. âRock!â
âRock? Naw, I donât want to talk about Rock to you. What Iâd like to know is ââ
I let go of the leaves. They closed over his face. âPrankster!â I yelled through them. âTrespasser!â
Pantelli strolled round the side of the house. âHey, cool! I talk to plants too, Di. According to Junior Botanist magazine, chatting with plants encourages âem to grow. I donât know about insulting âem, though,â he finished doubtfully.
âOne of Rowenaâs pranksters is behind the hedge,â I said loudly, so Bald Guy would hear.
âGee, I dunno, Di. Maybe instead of hollering you should be phoning the police.â
From the other side of the fence, crackle ! crunch ! Bald Guy was fleeing.
We ran round to the front. There was always a chance weâd glimpse Bald Guy climbing into a car and be able to memorize his license plate.
Some chance. In true Bald Guy fashion, heâd vanished into thin air.
Rowena, however, was bicycling toward us, her long gray hair flying out from under her helmet. The bikeâs wicker basket was loaded with bags from the market. She sure grocery-shopped a lot, I thought. Holy Toledo, the woman must eat almost as much as I do.
Brrring !-ing her bell, Rowena waved to us. The next moment, braking by the curb, she tossed us each a Granny Smith apple.
Her cheeriness faded when I told her about Bald Guy.
âI hope you didnât try to follow him, Dinah,â she said worriedly.
âBald Guyâs too wily to be followed,â Pantelli replied. âHeâs slick as maple syrup. Speaking of maples, Rowena, I notice that one of yours is developing a case of ââ
âIâll tend to it,â Rowena interrupted. âAt least, someone will. And soon.â
âAre you converting to the neighborhoodâs tidy-garden routine?â I asked. âWhat about the virtues of being starkly different?â
Iâd meant this as a joke, but Rowena didnât laugh. Instead, at a fast clip, she bundled her bags up the porch steps and into her house.
Pantelli and I checked Rowenaâs front and back yard for crudely lettered signs, which seemed to be Bald Guyâs calling card. Nothing today.
âGuess we scared him off,â I told Pantelli.
Chapter Eleven
You Mean Trespassing Is Illegal?
O kay, so Madge had forbidden
Yenthu Wentz
Aneesa Price
Suzanne Weyn
Mary Marks
Craig Johnson
Patrice Michelle
Kate McMullan
Sherryl Woods
Steven Savile
Hallie Swanson