I've been almost caught before, and I've been really caught before. When you're sitting in a tree thinking to yourself 'thank God I didn't wear a skirt today,' that means you're really caught.
But instead of ratting me out, after Jon falls backwards at the base of the tree and very obviously sees me sitting in it, he gives me a smile. Then he pretends he doesn't see me. Then he stands up, brushes himself off, and walks over to Karyn as if nothing had been wrong in the first place. He gives his goodbye, acts the perfectly collected gentleman, and watches as Karyn blushingly closes the door behind her.
Then he collapses into a pile of nerves again. I think for a moment that he's going to known over one of those flower pots again, but he manages to maneuver his way down the pathway and over to the lawn before letting go of his muscle control and dropping onto the grass.
"Betty?" His voice is muffled by the odd angle he's bending his neck to look at me as he talks.
I think for a moment before break my silence. "Why didn't you rat me out?"
He straightens himself a little, leans back on his elbows and says "If I've ever called you annoying, if I've ever said anything bad about you, I take it back."
Curious. I let him continue.
"Why didn't I think of this before? You're like the neighborhood's own Encyclopedia Brown!"
I interrupt him. "Philip Marlowe."
"Who?" he asks. I sigh. He continues. "Look, the point is, I need your help."
I raise an eyebrow at the guy. Bogey never turned down a dame in need, I and I guess I couldn't turn down a guy. I ease my way down the tree to hear Jon's piece. We can't very well stay on the Black's front lawn.
