"So who keeps leaving those things?"

"Dunno" Justin frowned. "But they seem to come while we're in school. So it can't be a kid, right?"

Matt raised an eyebrow at that comment. "Excellent point."

"Unless they're playing hooky."

"True."

"So it could be a kid or a grown-up," Justin offered.

"Right, and since that's the only two kinds of people in the universe, I think we need to narrow it down some."

"Yeah."

Hoover popped up from his nest in the pine needles, yawned, stretched, then trotted back toward the house.

"Got any more Skittles, dude?"

Justin rooted around in his left pants pocket and pulled out a crumpled pack and handed it over. "Don't eat all the red ones. They've got special powers."

"Get real," Matt said, popping a handful of round candies into his mouth, along with a few stray pine needles that he had to pick off his lips.

"Really. If you eat enough, you can see right through girls' shirts."

Matt stopped chewing. "Says who?"

"My dad," Justin said, smiling.

Matt's eyes got big. "Wow. You think if I ate enough they'd work on Lisa Bertucci?"

Justin giggled. "I knew you had a crush on her."

"Do not I hate girls."

"Liar."

"Besides, she was there the morning I dropped my volcano on the sidewalk." Matt sighed. "She thinks I'm a nimwad."

Justin shrugged. "What do girls know?" He patted his friend's shoulder. "Besides. I bet she doesn't have anything worth lookin'at anyway."

"Maybe, but she sure smells good."

A faint sound caused both the boys to freeze, then slowly turn their heads. Matt swallowed a mouthful of Skittles and picked up the camera. Justin grabbed the binoculars.

"Dude," Justin whispered as Matt clicked away. "Is he gonna kill us or what?"

The boys watched Mr. Mills take deliberate strides across the grass, machete in hand, heading right for them.

"Like a ninja," Matt hissed, sending a pleading look toward Justin.

They watched as Mr. Mills suddenly veered off toward a clump of bushes between the utility shed and his privacy fence. He began slashing away.

"What the heck's he doing?" Justin asked.

"Yard work?" Matt said hopefully.

"He looks royally pissed. Besides, that bush is in your yard!" Justin swallowed hard. "We'd better report this to Ned."

The boys glanced at each other, scooted back on their bellies in the pine needles, then made a run for it.

Joe sensed the man's presence long before he heard the polite cough, and looked up to see him straddling the property line between Charlotte's yard and his own.

He was a stocky guy, on the short side, balding, with a smile that didn't quite fit the serious look in his eyes. He was holding out his hand.

"Ned Preston, two houses down," he said.

Joe transferred the machete to his left hand and wiped the sweat off his brow with his forearm. He reached out, and Ned's hand gripped his tight-a little too tight for a friendly get-to-know-you visit.

Joe managed a polite smile.

"Joe. Joe Mills."

Still clenching his hand, Ned Preston nodded toward the machete. "Word is you got a got a real nice collection of weapons over here."

Joe pulled his hand away. Charlotte had obviously told him about the gun-he really was going to have to learn to be less antsy-and now he had to placate Dirty Harry here.

"I have a handgun. I've had some unfortunate experiences in the past."

Ned nodded slowly. "Come from a bad neighborhood, do you?"

'The city. You know." t "What city might that be?"

Joe shifted his weight and tossed the machete onto the ground. He put his hands on his hips and studied Ned Preston. Smart guy. Maybe a little too smart

"Here and there. Out west. Washington, D.C., for a bit."

Ned let out a long and low whistle. "Good ole Minton must be a bit slower than you're used to, huh?"

"I needed a change of scenery. I'm a writer."

Ned bobbed his head in approval. "Anything me or the wife might have read?"

"Sorry. I write mysteries, but I'm not published yet That's why I needed the change. You know-motivation."

Ned nodded toward the honeysuckle. "I'd say you were plenty motivated to hack the living shit out of that bush. But I think you may have missed a spot."

Joe couldn't help it-he found himself chuckling and shaking his head. "Don't much like the smell. Gives me a headache."

"Really now?".

"Really."

"That's Charlotte Tasker's property you just destroyed."

"It is?"

Ned bent at the waist and pointed to the tangle of stalks coming up from the ground. "The bush is planted in her yard. Some of it hangs over into your yard, and yes, technically you could have trimmed that section. But you had no right to annihilate the whole plant."

Joe let loose with a heavy sigh. He wasn't cut out for suburbia, obviously. "I wasn't thinking. I'll reimburse Mrs. Tasker for it."

"So what kind is it?"

"Honeysuckle. The smell was about to drive me nuts and-"

"I meant the gun."

Joe frowned. "Pardon?"

"The handgun you own." Ned Preston had straightened to his full height and was no longer bothering with the smile. "The one you stuck in Charlotte's face when she happened to wander into your yard looking for her dog."

Joe didn't blink. "The kind of handgun that comes with a license."

"Mind if I see that license?"

"As a matter of fact, I do mind."

Ned hoisted up his jeans and puffed out his chest. Joe nearly laughed out loud, but something in the man's expression put that idea to rest. What Joe saw was protec-tiveness-genuine concern that he might pose a danger to Charlotte.

He liked that.

He liked Ned.-

"You know, Ned," he said, "I'm extremely sorry that I pulled the gun on Mrs. Tasker. I feel awful about it, and I did offer my sincere apologies."

"So you're not sticking around?"

"Say what?" Joe's pulse quickened.

"Just heard you're already packing up. The kids said something about it."

"What kids?"

"Matt and the Bettmyer boy. They said you were packing up already, so I figured maybe you decided Minton wasn't a good fit after all."

When had the kids seen him packing? How had they seen him packing? And was this old bumpkin threatening him? It sure as hell felt that way.

"I haven't made up my mind about staying," Joe said calmly and politely. "But in the meantime, never fear, Ned. I have no intention of bothering, Mrs. Tasker. I'm busy writing and I just want my privacy. That's all."

"A man's entitled to a little privacy." Ned said.

"Indeed."

"Speaking of which, I'll let you get back to your-" Ned glanced at the decapitated branches strewn all over the ground. He made a big production of sniffing the perfumed air. "Pruning."

Joe laughed and held out his hand. This time, Ned didn't try to cut off the blood flow to his fingers. "Thanks for stopping by, Ned."

"No problem, Joe."

"I'm telling you, If Joe Isuzu over there is a mystery writer, then I' m the president of General-freakin' -Motors."

Bonnie stood at the kitchen counter, tossing the dinner salad. "You can be so skeptical sometimes, Ned. Give the guy a chance."

"The man's a cop, honey."

She looked up, startled, staring at the potted oregano on her kitchen windowsill. Eventually, she turned her head toward her husband. "What did you just say?"

"And former military would be my guess, but without a doubt a cop."

She dropped the salad tongs. "You sure?"

Ned chuckled. "Of course I'm sure. Just don't know what kind of cop he is or if he's an ex-cop and why the hell he's hanging out in Hayden Heights. I smell something cookin', and it ain't your fifteen-bean soup."