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The next day, Tex was on his way to work when suddenly a flowerpot crashed down onto the pavement right in front of him. One fraction of a second later, and he’d have gotten it straight on the noggin. It was a heavy flowerpot, as flowerpots go, and would have crushed his skull and sent him to an early grave if the thing had hit its intended target.

Intended target?

Even while his heart was still beating a snare drum inside his chest, Tex wondered why the thought had occurred to him that this was no random flowerpot incident but a concerted effort to make him dead. In other words, an attempt on his life.

He glanced down at the flowerpot, which now rested beyond repair at his feet, sand and a wilted undefinable plant spilling out beyond the shards. Then he looked up to determine the source of the phenomenon. A windowsill on the third floor of an adjacent building was the likely resting place of the pot before it had decided to take the sudden leap into the unknown. And just as he looked, he thought he saw that very same window that was framed by that very same ledge, gently being closed by an unseen hand.

His face took on a more determined expression.“Hey!” he shouted, balling his fist at the now-closed window. “I saw you! Don’t think for a minute I didn’t see you! What’s the big idea, chucking flowerpots at innocent passersby?”

And in a sudden wave of indignation, he turned to the house whose window had been used for this dastardly murder attempt, and rattled its handle. Locked, of course. But no worries. The culprit who’d done this dastardly deed no doubt was still inside.

“Let’s see you get away with this,” Tex muttered, as he took out his phone. He called up his brother-in-law’s number and hit Connect. The moment Alec picked up, he bellowed, “Alec! Someone just tried to kill me! That’s right. And I’ve got the killer locked up in the house! He’s not getting away. You better do what it is you do—arrest him! Arrest him, man!”

Five minutes later, three police vehicles descended on the scene, sirens wailing, and six police officers exited and one ruddy-looking police chief. Alec was panting. An attack on his brother-in-law in his own town was not something that happened every day, nor was it something he was willing to overlook.

“Where is he?” he said between two gulping breaths as he came hurrying up. He dragged up his pants, which, in spite of his sturdy belt, always seemed to be sagging, and glanced up at the house Tex was pointing a rigid finger at.

“He’s still inside. I’m sure of it. I’ve been here all this time and he hasn’t come out.”

“What did he do? Take a shot at you?”

“Worse! He dropped a flowerpot on my head!”

Alec blinked.“A flowerpot?”

“A flowerpot!”

And to prove he wasn’t making this up, he pointed at the evidence.

Alec stared at the remnants of the flowerpot which now lay in ruins.

“So who was he?”

“Mh?”

“The guy who threw the pot at you?”

“I have no idea. He’s locked himself inside and he won’t come out. And don’t think I haven’t tried. I must have rung the bell a million times. I even pounded the door.”

Alec gestured to his troops.“Break down this door. And use extreme caution. There’s a killer inside.”

His officers wasted no time and had the door down within seconds, using a nifty device that looked like something the Assyrians would have used to attack an enemy city. It was called a battering ram, Alec said, which seemed appropriate. Tex wasn’t interested in the nomenclature or the technical details of the operation, though. All he wanted was to see justice done and this killer taken into custody so he could never flowerpotbomb anyone ever again.

Five minutes later, the police officers came walking out of the building. One after the other, they shook their heads.

“No one?” asked Tex, incredulous.

“Not a single person inside,” said the last officer to exit the house. “And we searched the place top to bottom. There was a window open on the second floor, though, so the culprit may have escaped through there. It’s only a six foot drop onto the roof of a shack of some kind, and we found several footprints right next to it.”

“Make sure you photograph those prints,” Alec ordered.

“Yes, sir,” said the cop, and returned into the house to carry out the boss’s orders.

Alec scratched his head.“One question, Tex.”

“Shoot.”

“Are you sure you saw someone chuck this pot at you?”

“Of course I’m sure! I saw the window close myself.”

“So can you describe this flowerpot chucker to me?”

“Eh?”

“What did he look like?” He’d taken out his little notebook and was hovering pencil over paper, ready to take down Tex’s detailed description.

“Well, I didn’t see his face, of course. By the time I looked up, he was gone.”

Alec frowned.“You didn’t see his face.”