EDGAR

Matt nudged Wilson aside to look into the window himself.  “The hobo’s coming out!”  He grabbed Wilson by the arm and pulled him around the corner and out of sight, just as the man stepped out onto the sidewalk.

“I’m going to be in here for another twenty minutes,” the hobo shouted.  “Maybe you two should sit in the shade and wait.  I’d hate to see you get sunstroke!”

A touch of fear and a twinge of embarrassment raced through their hearts.

“You owe me a lot more than a cold drink.  I’m so out of here!”  Matt groaned.

Wilson peeked around the corner of the building.  The man’s hands were on his hips and he stood facing their direction.

“If you two want to play spies, you’ll have to do better than that.”

“Great,” Matt said.  “How did I ever let you talk me into this?”

Wilson ducked back behind the building.  “Listen, Matt,” he whispered.  “Mr. Grady’s inside, he won’t hurt us in front of a witness.”

“Right, he’d never hurt us in front of old Mr. Grady.  That’s because Mr. Grady looks like a mean world class wrestler, kung fu fighter!  I’m sure the hobo is just terrified of him.  Get a clue!”

Wilson grabbed his friend by the arm and jerked him around the corner so fast he didn’t have time to protest.  They faced the fearsome man, but stood a safe distance away.

“What do you want?”  The man asked his voice deep and gravelly.

“We - we just want to know your name,” Wilson said.

“Who wants to know?”  The hobo glared at them, his blue eyes narrowing.