Covert Surveillance
"Whatcha doin'?" asked the high, loud five-year-old voice.
"Shh!" ten-year-old Don said quickly, making urgent hushing gestures.
Charlie's eyes went big and he crouched next to where Don was hidden in the bushes. "Whatcha doin'?" Charlie whispered.
Don held up his dad's heavy pair of binoculars. "I'm watching."
"I don' think yur 'sposta touch doze," Charlie frowned.
Don ignored him, since he wasn't running to tattle, yet. He put the binoculars up to his eyes and focused back on a yard across the street. There was activity.
Don lost his quarry as Charlie bumped him, trying to crawl into the bush with him. Don grumbled and scooted to the side so Charlie could fit. He knew from experience that letting Charlie in would take less time than trying to keep him out.
He lifted the binoculars again and reacquired his quarry. The suspect was sneaking across the Mason's front yard, moving in that creeping way that bad guys did.
Don shifted his sights to the suspect's likely destination, confirming no one was there to tip him off.
"Hez na goin' to da fower bed," Charlie whispered.
"Yeah, he is."
"Tradg-ect-or-ee iz wong," Charlie said firmly.
"He's going around."
"Uh-uh. He'd opt-to-mize hiz paf, 'cause hez hurr'ing."
"How would you know?" Don turned to snap at him.
"See?" Charlie said, pointing back across the street.
Don quickly put the binoculars back to his eyes and it took a moment for him to find the suspect again. He was in the wrong yard. Don frowned. The suspect had skipped the Mason's marigold bed and gone for Mrs. Giordano's prized roses. Don grinned and waited for Goldie the Golden Retriever to make his fatal, incriminating move. This was going to be the biggest bust yet for the newest member of the Neighborhood Watch.