duck down dead

It was never an innocent escapade, guilt was written all over it. He could not justify or rationalise his actions although full of bluster he tried. There was always an agenda with him, sometimes out in the open but most often secret and undisturbed by the gentle prodding of his victims.

From the time he could do the maths, he was buying and selling, summertime lemonade, wintertime snow shovelling, Spring and Autumn were for leaves and weeds. Later he graduated to lawns, spending entire summers keeping the grass of Honeycomb Heights as short as a navy flat top. Always, looking for the angle he persuaded money from wallets and purses so the owners thought he was doing them a favour by taking it. Assignations were viewed and then exploited, Honeycomb had its fair share of wandering eyes and hands.