Richard knew he was in trouble when he saw Cathy coming up the driveway. He might be able to bully the Johnsons into cutting down their crab apple tree if it were just him against the naïve 20-something couple, but he had no chance if the Poplar Press started to investigate.
“What is it, Cathy? Time to judge whose lawn is the greenest again? I thought we did that already.”
“Richard, you know I have to ask you about it. Do you want to do it the easy way or the hard way?”
Richard sat on his front porch and looked toward the fence that lined the yard with the Johnsons. Overhanging the fence were branches of a crab apple tree, and he could see that more crab apples, a fruit the size of a half dollar, would fall into his yard at any moment.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You haven’t talked to the Johnsons?” Cathy asked.
“About as much as I ever do,” Richard said.
“Did you threaten to burn down the crab apple tree?”
“Fake news!”
“Did you throw crab apples at the Johnsons as they were trying to go to church last night?”
“Preposterous.”
“Jan Michaels, from across the street, gave me access to her doorbell camera.”
Richard stared her down for a long time.
“Now, Richard,” Cathy continued. “The Johnsons have said they’ll clean up any crab apples that fall into your yard. Would you like me to print that in the paper?” “Print what you want, and I’ll follow your ruling,” Richard said, resigned. He got up and went into the house.