Henry groaned. “What’d Minnie do? Grave-walk?”
“Some kids found her. And about fifteen minutes ago, Albert Higgley answered his doorbell and saw something in his barberry bushes. He switched on his porch light and took a good look and fell down six steps. They think his collarbone’s broken.”
“Too bad,” Henry said. “You don’t feel any—liability in the matter? A judge might think differently.”
“I said, by cracking godalmighty, it’s Civil Defense business! Some of us still stick to duty. If a couple of boys played a prank with poor old Minnie, get the boys.”
“We did. One was your boy. Ted.”
He considered. He chuckled slightly. “Ted, eh?”
“They’re bringing him here.”
“Ted never did care much for Albert Higgley,” Henry mused. “The old squirt owns a vacant lot near our place, has grape arbors on it. Nobody picks the grapes, unless kids like Ted do. One year-oh-maybe seven… eight years back—my hoy Ted and a couple of other nippers were having grapes. Old Higgley ambushed ’em. Swung with a heavy cane, no warning, just whammed out of the bushes. Broke Ted’s nose first crack. He wasn’t more’n eight-nine, maybe….”
Lacey rubbed his chin. “I see. You didn’t charge him?”
“Heck, no! Everybody has one or two mean neighbors.”