She acted like I was asking for the world as she pushed off the wall and stomped over to the small corner desk. She muttered under her breath the entire time. Mostly it was “Crow” this and “picture” that.
She held out a piece of paper like she was showing her parents a D- on her report card.
I took it from her and read the two words:You’re Welcome.
I wouldn’t swear to it one hundred percent, but it certainly looked like Crow’s handwriting.
“This was on the door?”
“Yes. And there were people, and I was just standing there, and I was…” She ran her hand down her body to show her current state of dress. “Think of the pictures they have. They’ll be everywhere. The internet. They’ll be on dark eBay.”
I regretted lying to her about dark eBay, but I’d been trying to make a point.
“Did you see anyone taking pictures?”
“Well, no.”
“Then we’re not going to worry about that unless a photo surfaces.” I held up my hand to stop her mid-protest. “If it happens, we’ll take the appropriate steps.”
She didn’t look convinced, but some of her edges had gone softer.
“Fine. But I want you to arrest that terrible man.”
“How about I promise to look into it and make sure that whoever is actually behind this is held responsible?”
“And I want those fake, terrible statues gone. I want them off my yard. I want them destroyed!”
“I’ll bring in a clean-up crew.”
“When?”
“Today, if possible.”
“Today?” She glanced out the window at the huge crowd of people. I saw the moment it dawned on her that she was missing a chance at a heck of a photo shoot.
“Well, I know how thin the police are spread these days. If it took until, say, tonight, I’m sure I would manage.”
Her hand had moved up to her curlers, fingers pulling the ringlets down, plastic curlers hitting her carpet with softthuds.
“There’s several tons worth of concrete out there, Mrs. Yates. It’s going to take a crew and heavy-load vehicles to get it all gathered up.” I tucked the paper in my notebook.
“So, not tonight?”
“Probably not.”
“Can you get it cleaned up by the weekend?”
“During the High Tea Tide?” I hedged.
“Oh, that’s right. I forgot about the event. Is attendance expected to be high?”
“Looks like it.”
I watched her calculate how many people could stop by her house for a look at her famous penguin. Just like that, her scowl disappeared, and she was all sunshine and bubbles.
“Well, I say, let’s not rush it! You have so much on your plate. This little prank can hold until after the High Tea Tide.”
“That’s very kind of you, Mrs. Yates. But I’m sure I can arrange—”
