A neighborhood is smaller and larger through binoculars. Gregson spun the dials and Summer Street came into view. It was ordinary; used a lot at 8 AM in the morning and 5 PM at night; quite dull in the middle of the day. A girl was running up the street in a sports bra.
“Emmm, the fairer sex, quite fair,” Gregson said. He reached for his potato chips. Crumbs flaked onto his golf sweater. He had a tee time at 2 pm, which meant that the stakeout couldn’t last much longer. Cheating stay-at-home husbands were not his regular fare, but after surviving cancer and a drastic weight gain, Gregson was ready to take it easy. He was descending into a food comma, so he juiced himself with stakeout coffee. “Strong stuff, ahhh, that’s just about right.” Even with the caffeine, Gregson drifted to sleep. Acorns kept falling on him and into his convertible.
Then a car that didn’t belong, with a driver who didn’t belong, tore down the street and parked. It was a white Lotus and the flower that stepped out of it wore a white tennis skirt and top. She was tanned and curvy–a dangerous temptation. And Gregson zoomed in.
“This job has its perks. Now all I need to do is snap a few pictures for the lawyer and collect my fee.”
He quickly reviewed his mini notepad. Gregson took the wife’s statement, verbatim. “Catch the bastard in the act.”
“Okay,” he chuckled, stepping out of his t-bird and walking to the front lawn. Gregson had to take his pictures fast or someone might think he was a peeping tom. He looked at the rickety scaffolding and decided to risk it. Halfway up, he realized it was a bad idea.
Then he heard sounds… love-making?
She was riding the dad bod and stopped.
“Listen Alex, you agreed to get rid of your wife for the life insurance money.”
“But I can’t, she’s still a good person.”
“It’s me or her; and what’s going on down there?”
“It has trouble standing at attention when you yell.”
“Well… if you can’t take some action, I will!” She used an ice pick and jabbed him in the chest.
“Wow! Gregson said. He snapped the photo.
“Shoot! I left the flash on!”
He fell off the landing. Paralyzed. The air sucked from his lungs. And he couldn’t move.
“This is the 21st century old man.” She pulled the film from his disposable camera. Her ice pick flashed in the sun.
He always knew it would be a woman.
But then a minivan pulled into the driveway before the needle could do its work.
The Lotus left and Gregson longed for her perfume; dangerous women were his weakness.
“God, you’re lucky!” A soccer mom said, running over.
“Don’t I know it, but sometimes, I wonder…”