Frances glanced between them. “We didn’t want to upset you, but word’s gone around, and Joe, the security guard, told us he’s of the opinion that it was Joseph Duvall who carved that into thelog.”
“Oh, really?” Art said, and he must have looked as suspicious as Frances and Gabe had when he first saw them, because Frances eyed him inquisitively, then turned her curious look on Wes. “Did you know that Joseph didthis?”
“I told Art I figured it was him,” Wesexplained.
“So what’s the issue? We all know he did it. Now Joe said they don’t have any proof outside of what people heard and who saw Joseph heading down the trail that day, which is why Gabe and I decided we’re going to have some guerillajustice.”
“Wait, wait. How are you going to get into his locker?” Wesasked.
“Oh, I’m real good at picking a lock,” Francesreplied.
“You have so many hidden talents, Frances,” Wes noted. “I’m certain you didn’t learn that at the postoffice.”
“I certainly did not, and thank you,” she said with pride, though Art couldn’t take his mind off the seriousness of what they weresuggesting.
“I’m not having you both getting kicked out over something that assholedid.”
“Also,” Wes added, “on top of this potentially violating plenty of restrictions that could get you kicked out, and possibly a few laws, you realize something like this could seriously hurt Joseph. What if it gave him a heartattack?”
Frances rolled her eyes. “As if I care about Joseph Duvall having a heart attack. Fewer bigots in the world, the better, if you askme.”
“You can’t mean that,” Wessaid.
“Oh, of course I don’t! But I’m being about as overdramatic as you are. Certainly a glitter bomb won’t killhim!”
“Okay, okay,” Wes said, grabbing the bag in Gabe’s hand. “Let’s just take this and calm down. There’s no reason that you should have gone to all thetrouble.”
“It was no trouble at all,” Frances insisted. “I already had theglitter.”
“And I knew how to make a bomb,” Gabefollowed.
Art’s concern intensified. “Gabe made thebomb?”
“Of course,” Frances said. “I don’t know how to make abomb.”
Wes and Art looked to one another as though they were thinking the samething.
“Okay,” Wes said. “I definitely think you should give this tous.”
“It’s fine,” Frances said. “It’s just springs or something so that it pops out and covers him inglitter.”
Gabe eyed her like he didn’t know what she was talking about. “Um…”
“What? It’s more thanthat?”
“Yes. I can’t use springs to make abomb.”
“Okay, give me that,” Wes insisted, snatching the bag away from Gabe. “We’re going to talk about this inprivate.”
They headed back to Wes’s townhouse, and everyone congregated at his dining room table. Wes set the glitter-bomb bag in the center, and Gabe said, “You might want to get that thing away fromus.”
“How does it even go off?” Wesasked.
“It’s set to go off when it’s opened, and I have a remote, but if you shake it too much, it’sover.”
Art held his hand out, and Gabe took the signal and handed over the remote from his pocket. Art put it in the bag with the bomb and took it to Wes’s coatcloset.
“I can’t believe they give you housies a whole closet just for your coat,” Frances said. “I hardly have a closet in mybedroom.”
