Back.
Nothing to report. Well, not much. A li'l somethin' somethin' I suppose.
Which is, immediately after her curtains fluttered, a bright yellow Hummer pulled out of her garage. I tried to follow her (and yes, it was "the other woman"), but my car wouldn't start. Determined to make the best of a bad situation, I rang her doorbell, hoping no one would respond. After a few minutes of silence, I started sniffing around. Scaled her fence. Nothing but grass and trees and a wadded-up empty dog food bag crammed into a knothole in her fence. I smoothed out enough of it to read "Kibbles 'n Bits," then crumpled it back into its hole.
I thought about tip-toeing in between the "landmines," but there weren't any: if she had any dogs, they either didn't do their business in the back yard, or it got picked up right away... and quite thoroughly.
And they didn't bark when I rang.
So, am noticing quite a few "no doggie here" signs.
Yet, mysteriously, bags of dog food keep showing up.
"Hey, buddy. What's going on?" said her neighbor, his thinning pate suddenly appearing in between the luffing branches of his mulberry tree.
"I... Just inspecting. Termites, thank you. Doesn't look like she has any."
"On her fence?"
"No. I, uh, that was just me. Heh. Just curious why there's a dog food bag wedged into the fence."
"And your uniform?"
"My... uniform?"
"Yeah, why aren't you wearing one?"
"Oh, it's at home," I said.
"Shouldn't you be spraying poison out of a pump canister or something?"
"I... Sir, if you must know, I'm inspecting for termites, not spraying for them. Not yet anyway. Which, by the way, I couldn't help but notice you're sitting in a tree. Are you a tree surgeon?"
He paused. "Well, that does it: I'll be having a little chat with Beth."
"Fine," I said, holding steady. "And I'll be chatting with her too. I'll tell her how you were helpful, yet inquisitive. Not overly inquisitive. Cordial. Friendly. Yes, we'll be discussing you, too."
"And your name?"
"Chad. Chad Tribunal." I took a step toward where he sat in his tree and extended my hand, my now drenched hand, my sweating-like-a-groom hand. "You can call me Chad, though. Look, I'm sorry we got off to a rocky start, but--" I looked from side to side and lowered my voice, "but I'm actually here after hours. Doing some 'under the table.' Know what I mean?" I conspiratorially raised and lowered my eyebrows.
"Under the table work?"
"Yeah."
He jumped down from his tree and asked, "You licensed?"
"Well, my boss is," I said.
"Who do you work for?"
"Don't tell my boss. Please. I'm just trying to make a couple extra bucks. I know what I'm doing. I mean all that counts is killing the termites, right?"
"I won't tell your boss. Just tell me who you work for."
"PIL."
"Pests, Insects, Limited?"
"Yeah."
He laughed. "I didn't think you guys worked on Sunday. I was just wondering who in the world was in Beth's backyard."
"Hey a... So you got any rodents, pests?"
"We have a guy."
"Really?"
Through the cracks I could see him walking away. "Yeah, we got a bug guy already. Have a good one."
"Right," I said, making my way back to Beth's split-level house. I wended along, looking down toward where the ground met the half-windows of the lower level. Closed Venetian blinds prevented my viewing any of her indoors. I "inspected" slowly enough to appear legit (in case I still entertained an audience), yet swiftly enough to get the heck outta there.
"Hey buddy, c'mere. Ch-- Was it Chad?"
"I'm almost done."
"It'll just be a minute, Chad. I won't keep you."
Padding on the grass, I returned to the shade of his mulberry.
"So you're almost done?"
"Yes."
"Finished indoors too?"
"Where's this going?" I asked.
"Nowhere. It's nothing. I was just wondering if you happened to see any of the... You know, when you were inside." Here, he formed his face into a series of agreeable expressions--at least that's the way it appeared--and even got in a coupla hand signals, all in an effort to steer me along conversationally. Steer me along to where, I had no idea.
"I really don't think I should talk about the contents of my client's home. I mean I work under the table and whatnot, but there's still that--"
"Whatnot?"
My turn to pause. "I'm sorry, sir, but I really must finish my inspection and get home to the wife and kids."
"Isn't there--"
"Look, I'm in the book. Chad Tribunal. If you wanna discuss my rates, call, k? Meanwhile, I gotta jet. Bye."
I marched straight over to the other side of Beth's backyard, away from the prying eyes of Mr. Balding Nosy Neighbor, and, with her house shielding me, quickly quietly jumped the fence. Crouched down in the bushes and called the Skeet. Half an hour later he drove by and gave me a jump. Dead battery: I had left the radio on, but the sound was so low I hadn't heard the music.
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