Lilly Beth Straddler stands in her front yard watering the miniature roses she has just planted. That landscape spe- cialist really knows his stuff. Heavenly Days, that's what he called this particular type of rose. Loves heat and sun and never goes dormant, he promised her.
She wipes a thin line of perspiration from her forehead. Must be a hundred and twenty outside, and here we are in October.
Lucky for her she decided to water them right away before they wilted, or she might have missed the whole thing. What with all the privacy walls surrounding the homes, it is almost impossible to keep up with what goes on in the neighborhood.
Hard to know what the neighbors even look like, no one being especially friendly. Walls everywhere. Not too conducive to chitchat from one yard to another. Of course, she notices the truck parked on the street, and right away she knows it doesn't belong to a repeat customer, although with that doll business they have going over there, anything is possible.
Why, she herself has personally filed a complaint over them operating out of the house like that. This subdivision isn't zoned for retail, and that's exactly what she said to the commissioner. Let them take their business where it belongs, she'd said. Dragging down property values, she'd argued. Setting a precedent. If it wasn't stopped, pretty soon you'd have all kinds of business signs sprouting up on the lawns, and that would be the end of the neighborhood. Not that they had a doll sign out front, but who knew what they'd come up with next?
But it all fell on deaf ears. Probably bought off the judge.
She has finished soaking the roses when the police officer walks toward her from the other side of the house next door. Lilly Beth drops the hose, a wild jet of spray jumping back at her. She sidesteps and scurries over. What could it possibly be? A breakin? In this neighborhood? Lord help us.
"They just left," she says, "that Birch girl and a bunch of other women. People traipsing in and out of that house at all hours, it's a wonder they made it this long without trouble."
She hears barking on the other side of the Birches' door. Several different pitches of barks, which means a houseful of dogs. The noise from those animals! Lilly Beth wonders what the local rules are regarding pets. How many are legal? One? Two? Tomorrow she'll follow up. She taps her head with the palm of her hand. What is she thinking? She can follow up right this minute, since the proper authority is standing right before her.
"I think they own too many dogs. Do you know how many are… what's the word… legal?" she feels disappointed when he shakes his head. "Never mind, I'll call down to the local station. Are you from the local station?"
The police officer strides forward, arms swinging loose and with authoritarian hands, she thinks, wide and powerful.
"Oh, hello, Lilly Beth," someone calls from the sidewalk. Drats, now all the other nosy neighbors are spilling out of their homes like ants following a crumb line. Janice Schmidt waves a greeting, glances at the police officer, and continues to move past, an extra-wide stroller rolling ahead of her with two sleeping toddlers inside.
Lilly Beth notices the police officer stop abruptly when he sees Janice, like the fizz went out of him or like he'd been bent on a task and then changed his mind.
"You need to go back in your house, ma'am," he says, flashing a badge just like in the movies. "This is a homeland security issue, highly classified. Talk about it to anyone, and you risk prosecution."
"Oh, my. Well, yes, of course, Officer." He guides her along, pushing on her back, a little too hard, she thinks.
"Anything I can do to help, you just call me. I'm a patriotic American, not like some I could mention." She gives a meaningful glance back at the Birch house.
She opens her door. What a pushy officer. "I'll keep close tabs on them for you," she says. "Don't you worry."
He continues to stare at her house even after she backs away from the window. Then he gets into the truck and drives away, probably to return later with reinforcements. Strange that he didn't drive a squad car, but maybe that was too obvious for homeland security. He wouldn't want all the neighbors wondering why a police car was parked out front.
She hopes she hasn't interfered. She does tend to rush in impulsively without thinking things through. If she had stayed on her own side, maybe he would have crashed down the door with one powerful, bionic-like leg and seized evidence that would implicate her neighbor in some kind of international spy operation. She vows to stay close to her window in case things heat up.