In a second the dogs were barreling toward me. I tensed up, preparing to get bit. The dogs advanced, held their ground, and then backed away, not sure whether to protect their master, their home, or themselves. The smell of dog was everywhere. Dog food, dog fur, dog breath. The smell was overpowering, and the barking endless and loud. I didn’t dare move—but I glanced to the curtains where I knew the Schwa was hiding. Any dogs that had been sniffing around there had come over toward me. With any luck, the Schwa would be able to slip out unnoticed. As for me, well, I suppose this was what I have to do to earn my 50 percent. Damage control.

“Get out of here!” said a voice much fuller, much stronger than I expected.

My eyes still hadn’t adjusted to the dim light, so I wasn’t sure what I was seeing at first. A low square shape moved at me through a doorway. Only when it pushed through the dogs could I see what it was. It was a wheelchair. Old Man Crawley was in a wheelchair.

“Don’t move a muscle, or I’ll have them tear you to shreds, if I don’t do it myself.”

He held a fireplace poker in the air as he rolled the chair forward with his other hand. His hair was gray and slicked back. His jaw was hard and square—it looked like he still had all his teeth, which is more than I can say for my own relatives that age. He wore a white shirt buttoned all the way to the neck, where loose skin flopped around like on a turkey—but mostly it was the poker that held my attention. The thing looked heavy, the thing looked sharp, and people in wheelchairs usually have lots of upper-body strength.

“Which do you want?” I said.

“What?”

“You said ‘get out of here,’ and ‘don’t move a muscle.’ I can’t do both.”

“You’re a wiseass.”

Not at all happy with their master’s tone of voice, the dogs were now baring their teeth at me, in addition to barking and growling.

“I can explain,” I said, which I really couldn’t, but don’t you always say that when you get caught doing something you shouldn’t be doing?

“I have already called the police. They will be here momentarily to arrest you, at which time you will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.”

Which was good, because it meant he didn’t plan to kill me with the poker, or with the dogs. “Please, Mr. Crawley, I didn’t mean anything. It was just a bet, see? On a dare to get a dog bowl. That’s all. I would have given it back. I swear.”

“The dog bowls are nailed down,” he informed me.

“My mistake.”

“How much did you bet?”

“Fifty-four dollars,” I told him.