Approaching Menace Read Free

stared at her.
    Hairs raised on Josie’s neck.
    The man’s shoulders slumped forward. The shadowed darkness didn’t hide the fact that his jacket fit badly. The legs of his pants fell toward the soles of his shabby dress shoes. Above these telltale items, her neighbor locked gazes with her.
    “Maurice, can I help you?” she asked, trying to still her voice.
    He didn’t answer. Instead, he shifted his bulk. His face remained bleak as it emerged from the light’s outer circle, and he came forward.
    Cropped with brown hair, Maurice Exely’s head seemed to tuck into his neck while he scurried. His pants flopped as he scooted across the cement behind Josie and out into her dark yard. Scuttling to the left, he neared the thick pampas grasses separating their lawn from his.
    Why had he been here? She had only seen him when he cut grass with his push mower. Most people in the neighborhood used riding mowers or hired grass cutters, but he always trudged away, sweating behind his machine. “Look at how neglected his lawn looks,” Sylvie recently pointed out, and Josie said he was probably depressed since his grandmother died. She told her mother not to worry. Soon Maurice would be out there again, getting his lawn as neat as before.
    Maybe he needs a ride, she considered. He had been standing in front of their garage. She wondered why he’d left so suddenly when she spotted headlights pulling into the drive on the opposite side of her yard. She glanced back to where Maurice ran. A shape slithered between the bushes’ green spikes. Then the branches closed together as though no intruder moved through.
    Josie knew little about him. She’d seen him walking downtown once. He’d never married. She had no idea what his voice sounded like. Soon after she moved here, his grandmother said he and Josie were the same age. Whenever Josie saw him since Mrs. Exeter’s death, he resembled a large lonely child. And never, not even while his grandparent lived, had those jackets or slacks fit him correctly.
    I could offer to fix them, she thought, then immediately dismissed the idea. Proposing to alter his clothes would say she had noticed a problem and that might hurt his feelings.
    Shaking her arms, she continued to feel her shoulders knotted. News of the murder and the thunder and lightning had combined to disturb her.
    “Josie! Hey, Josie!” a child called from a tan SUV parking on the driveway to her right. A smiling face framed by straight golden hair stuck out the rear window.
    “Hello to you, young lady,” Josie said and walked across to the Allen home. Six-year-old Annie Allen bounded out of the SUV with all the energy of a basketball team. She dove into Josie’s widespread arms and almost knocked her over.
    “We went get some ice cream,” Annie said
    Josie forced a scowl. “And none for me?”
    The child smiled, her shoulders lifting to a shrug near her ears. Behind her, a figure padded toward them.
    LauraLee Allen, on a perennial quest to lose thirty pounds, had to have looked absolutely stunning when she was slightly younger. With thick wavy hair slightly blonder than Annie’s, crystal blue eyes, and a constant tan, LauraLee retained much of that beauty.
    “Nope, only Annie got ice cream.” LauraLee swiped a napkin across the chocolate steaks staining her child’s chin. “Her daddy spoils her so much.”
    LauraLee glanced at Josie while attempting to hold Annie still and rub off the brown smears. “She sure likes you, hon. Ever since you watched her for me, she talks about you all the time. It’s Josie this and Josie that.”
    Josie smiled. “Any time.” More doors slammed as men slipped out the front doors of their SUV.
    “No wonder,” one of them said, walking near. “Our neighbor’s quite a girl.” Randall Allen smiled. His dark brown hair sported a fresh cut, and he wore a sports coat and slacks that fit him well, the exact opposite of the neighbor from the other side of Josie’s yard.
    The man who