What in tarnation?
Most of the missiles were landing in the pool, which had only recently been drained and refilled, but some of them were hitting the yard, both the flagstones and the landscaped parts. Blair’s first instinct was to confront the criminals, but Jack was vigorously shaking his head no. She nodded to signal her understanding—he clearly had some sort of plan here—and he let go of her hands and crawled over to retrieve one of the… what? Balls? Rocks?
“Frozen fertilizer chunks,” he whispered when he was back at her side. He handed her the cold nugget and turned his phone’s flashlight onto her palm. “At least I’m pretty sure that’s what’s happening here. She makes ice cubes with fertilizer in them, lobs them over, and they melt and wreak havoc. It’s kind of genius.”
“Well, I’ll be jitterbugged.”
“Indeed.”
She was aware that she should be angry, but the whole thing suddenly struck her as hilarious.
She put her own hands over her mouth to try to stifle the laughter. When Jack shot her a quizzical look, she whispered, “My elderly neighbor has a vendetta against me for unknown reasons and is waging war on me with fertilizer popsicles.” She dropped the frozen fertilizer. “This isn’t helping with my perpetually cold hands.”
He started laughing, too, and trying to stifle it. Soon they were sitting together shaking with silent laughter. Every time they cameclose to calming down, another projectile sailed over the fence and they lost it anew.
When she finally got to the point where she could trust her voice again, Blair whispered, “What do we do?”
Jack held up a finger and got up and slunk along the fence. From behind the ailing lemon tree—fertilizer was supposed to be good for plants, but could too much ruin them?—he produced a stepladder she usually kept in the shed. He came back and set it up next to the fence. “We’re going to confront her. You should film this.”
Blair got out her phone, and Jack climbed the ladder but stayed crouched down. When the next projectile came sailing over, he stood to his full height, shone his flashlight over the fence, and said, “What the hell are you doing?”
Ooh, he’d put on his scary grumpy voice.
A flurry of exclaiming in English and Italian ensued, and soon Mrs. Afonso’s head appeared across from Jack’s.
Jack turned to Blair to say, “She’s not levitating. She has a ladder like this one.”
“What the hell areyoudoing?” Mrs. Afonso countered. Blair, dumbfounded, started recording.
“Oh, I’m just here adding to the trove of video evidence I already have of you vandalizing your neighbor’s property,” Jack said.
“She deserves it.”
“She most certainly does not. She doesn’t even know you.”
“She knew my husband, though, didn’t she?” Mrs. Afonso shot back with a sneer.
Jack looked down at Blair, who could only shake her head. She had no recollection of ever meeting Morton Afonso, even in passing.
“Is she forgetting she was the ingenue inThe Big Smoke?” Mrs. Afonso’s voice went high and shrill. “Is she forgetting sheslept with my husband?”
Oh.Blair knew what was happening here.
So, apparently, did Jack, who said, “Mrs. Afonso, is it possible that you’re thinking of Britt Moone?”
There was a pause, then, “What?”
“Britt Moone. The actress. Whereas your neighbor isBlair Kellermoon, who was not inThe Big Smokeand has, in fact, never done you any harm.”
Another pause. “Ohshit.”
“Oh shit, indeed.”
“Is she down there?”
Jack sent an inquiring glance at Blair, who indicated that they should switch places.
She handed Jack her phone, climbed up, and found herself nose to nose with Mrs. Afonso. “Hi.”
