The cyclist was already mid-rant: “I told you, he’s got these motion-activated traps! I was soaked—with pond water! It was freezing and filthy! There’s no warning—he rigged the whole thing like some kind of booby trap!”
The officers approached the porch, where Clarence stood waiting in his usual sweater and gardening gloves. Taffy was curled in the shade behind him. The older officer spoke first. “Sir, do you have an irrigation system on the back lawn?”