"No way," said Roy.
"Maybe you ought to think about Catholic school."
Roy gave a hollow laugh. "Too bad we're Methodists."
"Then convert, dude," Garrett said. "Seriously."
Officer David Delinko looked forward to getting up early to scout the construction site. It was a welcome break from his daily routine, which offered few opportunities for real surveillance. Usually that was left to the detectives.
Although Officer Delinko liked the town of Coconut Cove, he had become bored with his job, which mostly involved traffic enforcement. He had joined the police force because he wanted to solve crimes and arrest criminals. Yet, except for the occasional drunk driver, Officer Delinko rarely got to lock up anybody. The handcuffs clipped to his belt were as shiny and unscratched as the day he joined the force, almost two years earlier.
Vandalism and trespassing weren't big-time crimes, but Officer Delinko was intrigued by the continuing pattern of mischief at the future site of Mother Paula's All-American Pancake House. He had a hunch that the culprit (or culprits) intended something more serious than juvenile pranks.
Since the police chief was getting pressure to stop the incidents, Officer Delinko knew that catching the vandals would be a feather in his cap-and possibly the first step toward a promotion. His long-term career goal was to become a detective, and the Mother Paula case was a chance to show he had the right stuff.
On the first Monday after the alligator episode, Officer Delinko set his alarm clock for five A.M. He rolled out of bed, took a quick shower, toasted himself a bagel, and headed out for the construction site.
It was still dark when he arrived. Three times he circled the block and saw nothing unusual. Except for a garbage truck, the streets were empty. The police radio was quiet as well; not much happened in Coconut Cove before dawn.
Or after dawn, for that matter, Officer Delinko mused.
He parked the squad car next to Leroy Branitt's work trailer and waited for the sun to rise. It promised to be a pretty morning; the sky looked clear, with a rim of pink in the east.
Officer Delinko wished he'd brought a thermos of coffee, because he wasn't accustomed to getting up so early. Once he caught himself sagging behind the steering wheel, so he slapped briskly at his cheeks in order to stay awake.
Peering through the fuzzy early-morning gray, Officer Delinko thought he saw movement in the open field ahead of him. He flicked on the squad car's headlights and there, on a grassy mound marked by a freshly planted survey stake, stood a pair of burrowing owls.
Curly hadn't been kidding. These were the dinkiest owls that Officer Delinko had ever seen-only eight or nine inches tall. They were dark brown with spotted wings, whitish throats, and piercing amber eyes. Officer Delinko wasn't a bird-watcher, but he was intrigued by the toy-sized owls. For several moments they stared at the car, their big eyes blinking uncertainly. Then they took off, chattering to each other as they swooped low over the scrub.
Hoping he hadn't scared the birds away from their nest, Officer Delinko turned off his headlights. He rubbed his heavy eyelids and propped his head against the inside of the car window. The glass felt cool against his skin. A mosquito buzzed around his nose, but he was too sleepy to swipe at it.
Soon he nodded off, and the next thing he heard was the radio crackle of the dispatcher's voice, routinely asking for his location. Officer Delinko fumbled for the microphone and recited the address of the construction site.
"Ten-four," the dispatcher said, signing off.
Officer Delinko gradually roused himself. The squad car was hot but, oddly, it looked darker outside now than when he'd first arrived-so dark, in fact, that he couldn't see anything, not even the construction trailer.
In a fleeting moment of dread, Officer Delinko wondered if it was already the next night. Was it possible he'd accidentally slept through the whole day?
Just then, something smacked against the squad car-pow! Then came another smack, and another after that… a steady invisible pounding. Officer Delinko grabbed for his gun but it wouldn't come out of his holster-the seat belt was in the way.
As he struggled to unstrap himself, the car door flew open and a white blast of sunlight hit him in the face. He shielded his eyes and, remembering what they'd taught him at the academy, shouted, "Police officer! Police officer!"
"Yeah? Could've fooled me." It was Curly, the sullen construction foreman. "Whatsa matter, didn't you hear me knockin'?"
Officer Delinko tried to gather his senses. "Guess I fell asleep. Did something happen?"
Curly sighed. "Get out and see for yourself."
The patrolman emerged into the glaring daylight. "Oh no," he muttered.
"Oh yeah," Curly said.
While Officer Delinko had been dozing, somebody had sprayed all the windows of his squad car with black paint.
"What time is it?" he asked Curly.
"Nine-thirty."
Officer Delinko let out an involuntary whimper. Nine-thirty! He touched his finger to the windshield-the paint was dry.
"My car," he said despondently.
"Your car?" Curly bent down and scooped up an armful of dug-up survey stakes. "Who cares about your stupid car?" he said.
Roy spent the morning with a knot in his stomach. Something had to be done, something decisive-he couldn't spend the rest of the school year hiding from Dana Matherson and Beatrice Leep.
Dana could be dealt with later, but Beatrice the Bear couldn't wait. At lunchtime Roy spotted her across the cafeteria. She was sitting with three other girls from the soccer team. They looked lanky and tough, though not as formidable as Beatrice.
Taking a deep breath, Roy walked over and sat at the same table. Beatrice glared in seething disbelief while her friends regarded him with amusement and kept eating.
"What is your problem?" Beatrice demanded. In one hand was a barbecued pork sandwich, suspended between the tray and her sneering mouth.
"I think you're the one with the problem." Roy smiled, even though he was nervous. Beatrice's soccer friends were impressed. They set down their forks and waited to see what was coming next.
Roy plowed ahead. "Beatrice," he began, "I've got no idea why you're mad about what happened on the bus. You're not the one who got choked, and you're not the one who got punched in the nose. So I'm only going to say this once: If I did something to upset you, I'm sorry. It wasn't on purpose."
Evidently no one had ever spoken to Beatrice so forthrightly, for she appeared to be in a state of shock. Her sandwich remained fixed in midair, the barbecue sauce trickling down her fingers.
"How much do you weigh?" Roy asked, not unpleasantly.
"Wha-uh?" Beatrice stammered.
"Well, I weigh exactly ninety-four pounds," Roy said, "and I'll bet you're at least a hundred and five…"
One of Beatrice's friends giggled, and Beatrice shot her a scowl.
"…which means you could probably knock me around the cafeteria all day long. But it wouldn't prove a darn thing," Roy said. "Next time you've got a problem just tell me, and then we'll sit down and talk about it like civilized human beings. Okay?"
"Civilized," Beatrice repeated, gazing at Roy over the rims of her glasses. Roy's eyes flickered to her hand, which was now dripping fat glops of barbecue sauce. Soggy chunks of bun and meat were visible between clenched fingers-she had squeezed the sandwich so ferociously that it had disintegrated.