Caleb took the stairs two at a time, nearly slipping on the hardwood floor in his socks. He grabbed a heavy flashlight from the kitchen counter—the closest thing he had to a weapon—and burst through the back patio door.
The crisp autumn air bit at his skin. "Marlene!" he yelled, his voice cracking the quiet morning. "What the hell are you doing?"
Marlene didn’t flinch. She had already managed to loosen the heavy metal band securing the top of the pool filter. She paused, slowly turning to face him. She adjusted her grip on the wrench but didn't lower it.
"Go back inside, Caleb," she said. Her voice was steady, devoid of the warm, neighborly lilt he was used to. "It’s chilly. You’ll catch a cold."
"You're dismantling my pool equipment!" Caleb shouted, stepping off the porch, his flashlight pointed at her. "I'm calling the police. Drop the wrench."
Marlene sighed, resting the wrench on the fiberglass casing of the filter. "If you call the police, we both lose. And I promise you, neither of us wants to lose what's inside this tank."
Caleb stopped in his tracks. "What are you talking about? It's sand and dirty water."
"That's what Arthur wanted everyone to think," she replied, referring to the previous owner of Caleb's house, who had passed away of a sudden heart attack six months prior. Marlene patted one of the white buckets with her gloved hand. "Arthur was a lot of things, Caleb. A good neighbor wasn't one of them. But he was an excellent thief."
Caleb lowered the flashlight slightly, confusion warring with adrenaline. "Arthur was an accountant."