Trouble is a Friend of Mine

‘Oh, she found it. Let’s hope she doesn’t stroke out from the excitement.’ Digby shouted toward the house, ‘Take it easy, Mrs Preston.’


Mrs Preston shuffled out to us. ‘Here it is! I knew I’d written it down.’ Mrs Preston read from the pad. ‘Two men, both tall, one of them rode a bicycle.’

We waited for her to go on, but then we realized that, in fact, that was all she’d written. I saw the title on the page was ‘For the Police!!’ Yes, two exclamation points.

‘Thanks, Mrs Preston, I’ll make sure the neighborhood watch looks out for these guys,’ Digby said.

Neighborhood watch? I studied Digby’s face. Not even a twitch when he lied.

‘Good evening, Mrs Preston.’ It was the amazon from the mansion, calling out as she crossed the street. Her black bell-shaped skirt completely covered her feet, so she appeared to be levitating. Mrs Preston pulled her cardigan closed as the amazon got nearer.

‘Children.’ The amazon talked like a strict Victorian nanny in a black-and-white movie.

She loomed over Mrs Preston and didn’t try to hide that she was reading Mrs Preston’s notes.

‘The police? Oh, dear, Mrs Preston, more problems in our neighborhood?’ The amazon stared at me when she said ‘problems.’

‘Boys are setting fires in the Dumpsters behind my shed,’ Mrs Preston said.

‘And you’re sure they weren’t girls? The way some girls dress nowadays, you can hardly tell.’ The amazon gave me another sharp look.

‘Are you saying I don’t know a boy from a girl? I got a perfect score on the DMV eye test, you know,’ Mrs Preston said.

‘Not at all, Mrs Preston,’ the amazon said.

‘It’s a fire hazard. The police won’t do anything, but now the neighborhood watch will patrol.’ Mrs Preston pointed at Digby.

The amazon’s eyes narrowed. ‘The neighborhood watch? Do you have any literature? That’s something my boys should be involved with.’

‘We’re still printing them up. I’ll drop some off when they’re ready,’ Digby said.

‘They’re not …’ My voice came out high and squeaky. ‘They’re not all your boys, are they?’

‘They are not my offspring, no,’ the amazon said.

‘So you’re …’ I said.

‘I am their keeper,’ the amazon said. ‘They are my flock.’

I mean, really, what can you say to that? But poor Mrs Preston tried anyway.

‘Mealtimes must be interesting in your house. So many to feed,’ Mrs Preston said.

‘Quite. Very much like feeding a small army every day,’ the amazon said.

‘A small private standing army. A militia, even,’ Digby said.

The amazon’s lips pulled over her teeth in a snarl she tried to cover with a smile.

‘Please. Bring the information about the neighborhood watch when you can. I will be sure to tell my boys about it,’ the amazon said.

She floated footlessly across the street and into the mansion.

Mrs Preston sniffed. ‘I don’t care for that woman’s outfit.’

‘Me neither, Mrs Preston,’ Digby said.

‘And those boys of hers are no kind of Christians I’ve ever seen. I saw one of them kick the Haggertys’ cat,’ Mrs Preston said. ‘Now, that stupid cat eats my tulips and throws them back up on my driveway, but that doesn’t mean it deserves to get kicked.’

‘Could you tell me which one?’ Digby said.

‘The yellow ones mainly, but sometimes the orange ones too,’ she said.

‘Not which tulips, Mrs Preston. Which boy did the kicking?’ Digby said.

‘The tall one.’ Mrs Preston stared at Digby and me with the expectation we’d know who that cat-kicker might be based on her description. It occurred to me then that because Mrs Preston was tiny, everyone looked tall to her.

‘Okay, Mrs Preston. We’ll look out for these guys,’ Digby said. ‘And the boy who kicked the cat too.’

‘Good. This was a nice neighborhood when me and my Sid, God rest, moved in. I hate seeing it go downhill. I heard the new people who moved in’ – Mrs Preston lowered her voice – ‘divorce.’

So Mom and I were the talk of the block. I hate this town.

Mrs Preston said, ‘That’s how it starts.’ She looked at her watch and jumped. ‘Oh! I have to go. My program’s on. I don’t even listen. I just watch that delicious Anderson Cooper’s lips move.’

We watched her go back in.

‘You know she’s not totally there, right?’ I said.

‘Doesn’t mean her Dumpster isn’t being set on fire,’ Digby said. ‘You going in to dinner?’

We walked back toward my house. ‘Yeah … sorry I can’t invite you in.’

‘Your window looks out on that alley, yeah?’

‘Um, so I’m supposed to … what? Watch out my window all night every night? You know people are saying we’re some kind of crime-fighting posse.’

‘Which reminds me. I have something for you.’ Digby pulled out a black mask. ‘It’s more Hamburglar than Batman, but you get the idea.’

The mask was satin and, actually, very pretty. I tied it on and hit some kung-fu poses.