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some trouble out there.”
     
    “What kind of trouble?” He asked.
     
    “I don’t really know,” I lied. “Just pass that onto her parents, okay?”
     
    “Will do,” he replied as Stephanie rejoined us. “Well, I’ll see you around, Fred. You’re overdue for your check-up.”
     
    “Right,” I said. “I’ll see that I make an appointment soon.”
     
    “Alright, take care,” he said as he and Stephanie continued up the aisle.
     
    “Bye Mr. Harrison,” Stephanie called.
     
    “Bye-bye,” I waved. Then I turned and continued my shopping.
     
    ***
     
    After I left the store, I took a drive down Main Street. It was a quaint little road, with shops lined up on both sides, including a nostalgic eatery called Lovell’s Diner. Not surprisingly, the Saunders’ bakery was closed. I had to mail a few bills so I stopped off at the post office. The first thing I heard upon entering was Mary Stephens on the phone. She was a rather large woman, who always wore her hair up in a bun.
     
    “Somebody did what?” She asked incredulously. “Are you sure? That’s a pretty mean thing to do.” Then she nodded her head. “I know, I know. He worked all day yesterday on it.” Then, she spotted me. “Alright Agnes, I gotta go. Tell Timmy I’ll be home later. Okay, bye.”
     
    “Nothing wrong I hope,” I smiled.
     
    “Oh, nothing really,” Mary sighed. “It’s just that somebody destroyed little Timmy’s snowman.”
     
    “Really?”
     
    “Yeah. It’s such a shame too. He busted his little rear end all day yesterday working on it. You should have seen it.”
     
    “That is a shame,” I agreed. “I guess even Parker Hills have its share of bad apples.”
     
    “You bet it does,” Mary said bitterly. “My babysitter Agnes said that it looked as though something had plowed over it.”
     
    That caught my attention. “Plowed?”
     
    “Yeah,” she continued. “She said the snowman had pretty much been completely flattened.”
     
    “Where was this?” I casually asked.
     
    “In my backyard,” she answered. “By the way, what did you need?”
     
    “Need?” I asked, deep in thought.
     
    “Yeah, what can I do for you?”
     
    “Oh,” I smiled. “Three stamps please.”
     
    “Coming right up,”
     
    After I mailed my bills, I said good-bye and left the post office. Getting into my car, I decided that I had another stop to make.
     
    ***
     
    As I pulled up in front of Mary’s house, it suddenly hit me that I was acting like a pubescent, irrational weirdo. Why was I here, because some snotty kids destroyed little Timmy’s snowman? I told myself to put the car back in drive and go home. Get a nice cup of tea and sit in front of a roaring fire. So, I got out of the car.
     
    As I made my way through the side yard of the house, I silently prayed that Timmy’s babysitter, old Agnes Humphrey, would not spy me. She would most likely tell me a thing or two, as she regularly did to Mr. Humphrey. Upon reaching the backyard, I quickly took in my surroundings.
     
    The Stephens’ backyard was wide open and it stretched until it connected with the neighbor’s yard. A small pine tree stood way out by itself, as if indicating where the property lines met. To my left was a shoveled concrete patio with a small table set. The sliding glass door that led out to the patio had a long blue curtain going across it. That’s good, I thought. Maybe Agnes and Timmy wouldn’t spot me.
     
    I quickly started across the yard, studying the knee-deep snow as I went. There were plenty of little footprints all around. Little Timmy must love to play in the snow. The snow was so deep, however, that his footprints never really did sink all the way to the grass.
     
    About fifteen yards from the patio, I spotted what was left of the snowman. It was utterly smashed, as if a steamroller had ran over it. There were prints everywhere around it, so it was next to impossible to tell if they were Timmy’s or somebody