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Barney’s little plot of land, where he grew anything from potatoes to tomatoes and everything in between, was positioned right behind Jaqlyn’s property, and there had always existed an unwritten agreement that Barney could use the strip of dirt road that was located between the two neighboring houses. Technically, though, the road, which really wasn’t much of a road, was located on Jaqlyn’s lot, and the moment he’d moved in and had watched in surprise how suddenly Barney’s old Land Cruiser had come trundling past, he’d put his foot down and taken away Barney’s right of free passage.

“I’m taking him to court,” said Barney now.

“You can try,” Alec said dubiously.

“You don’t think I’ll win?”

“I’m not a lawyer, Barney, so I can’t give you any legal advice, but as far as I know you need to have these kinds of agreements, these easements, in writing.”

“I just had a verbal agreement with the Parkers.”

“Ask a lawyer. Maybe there’s some loophole I don’t know about.” He patted the other man on the back and when he glanced over to the Jones place, saw that the curtains were moving. Jaqlyn was watching, and probably wondering what was taking them so long. “And you know what?” said Alec, who had a strongly developed sense of justice, “I’m going to have this spike strip examined for fingerprints. I doubt whether Jaqlyn will have been so careless but you never know. And I’m also going to try and find out where this thing was purchased. With any luck I’ll be able to prove that he bought it. Then at least we can make him pay for the damage to your car.”

“Thanks, Alec,” said Barney gratefully. “You’re a real pal.”

Alec called the towing company, and moments later they watched as Barney’s car was towed away en route to the garage. Four new tires was going to set him back a nice chunk of dough, and even though Jaqlyn had the right to defend his rights as a homeowner, he didn’t have to slash his neighbor’s tires in the process. That was vindictiveness, plain and simple.

Alec’s phone sang out a tune and he saw that his mother was trying to reach him. Picking up, he said, “Yeah, Ma.”

“Alec, honey, I’m going out tonight and I want you to drive me,” she said in surprisingly honeyed tones.

“Drive you where?” he asked, hoping it wasn’t another one of those dance nights at the senior center, or, even worse, bingo.

“Oh, just some group I joined. Can you pick me up around seven-thirty?”

“Where is it?”

“Tavern Street.”

“Sure, I’ll drive you.”

“And while you’re at it, you might as well come in with me so I can introduce you to my friends. They’re all dying to meet my handsome son the chief of police.”

He rolled his eyes. He could already imagine what kind of group his mother had joined. Probably some knitting club of old ladies sitting around gossiping about their children and grandchildren.

“Sure, Ma, whatever you say.”

He’d actually looked forward to a quiet evening at home, watching the game on TV and going to bed early. Then again, these shindigs never lasted long. He’d probably be home just in time to see the second half of the game.

He walked back to his car and heard his radio receiver crackle to life. He picked it up.

“Alec? Alec, where the hell are you?” Dolores’s voice grated against his eardrum.

He grimaced and held the receiver away from the offended appendage.

“I’m here, Dolores. What is it?”

“There’s been a number of reports of people being harassed on the street by some old lady with a phone asking them all kinds of weird questions. Apparently it’s got something to do with this new cult that’s set up shop in town.”

“New cult? What new cult and what old lady?”

“I’m not sure, but from the description I get the impression it’s your mom, Chief.”

He groaned.

“From what I can gather,” the precinct’s dispatcher continued, “she’s become the lead recruiter for that Soul Science cult, going around shooting videos of people, whether they like it or not, and asking them about the meaning of life.”

“The meaning of life?”

“Yeah, and the meaning of happiness.”

“Is that right?”

“You better get on top of this, Chief. I received a dozen complaints in the last hour alone. According to the last report that came in she’s on Harrington Street right now.”

“That’s where she lives.”

“I know.”

“I’m on it,” he said curtly, and clicked off.

So much for bingo night, he thought, and fired up the engine then peeled away from the curb, holding up his hand in greeting to Barney.

He reached Harrington Street in next to no time, and saw that Dolores hadn’t been lying: there, on the sidewalk, his mother was holding up her phone and filming a couple of strangers and asking them a bunch of questions.

They didn’t look happy and gesticulated wildly as they tried to extricate themselves from this impromptu street interview. As they walked away, she tried to push a flyer into their hands, which they promptly crumpled up into a ball and dropped in the gutter.

Alec got out and joined his mother.

“Did you see that?” she cried. “Littering is a punishable offense, you jerks!” she yelled after the couple.