Free Getting Old Is a Disaster by Rita Lakin Page B

goes to the nearest restaurant and buys a sandwich to hide his gun."
      As I write, I add, "He probably gets the sandwich at an earlier time or the cops would have caught him by now."
      Sophie: "The two amounts of money he robbed were different. I'll bet they're different in each bank. That's pretty weird."
      Bella: "Maybe he gets bored and changes it. Or maybe he forgot what he asked for last time." She ponders this. "I know I would."
      I look at the chalkboard, where I've copied out the list of six banks that arrived in today's mail. Frankly I didn't think Morrie would really send it. "I bet when we visit these banks, we'll find some kind of restaurant nearby. And that will be the sandwich wrapper of the day. He's toying with the banks and the police."
      Evvie says, "Morrie probably knows in his heart that we can solve the case and is depending on us."
      "Maybe," says Sophie. "I bet the cops are all frustrated because this old guy keeps foiling them."
      Ida adds a clue. "I checked on the shuttle van that Grandpa got into the other night when we had dinner out. The driver said Grandpa didn't belong to the Golden Era Retirement Home, but he admitted the old guy tipped him for a ride with them."
      "Did the driver describe him?"
      "No, he never really looked at Grandpa."
      Sophie says, "I like that he calls himself Robin Hood and leaves the green feather. He steals from the rich to give to the poor."
      I'm not so sure of that. "Maybe yes—maybe no. We'll ask him when we find him."
      The wind outside is picking up, rattling the windows of the building. "Everybody got their flash lights ready if the power goes out again tonight?" Evvie is always on storm duty. She gets the appropriate number of nods.
      "Bella," I say, "you look puzzled."
      "I still don't know how he can rob a bank without legs."
      Ida throws a handful of popcorn at her. "Get it through your head already. He has legs. He hid them under the box he was sitting on."
      She pouts. "It looked real to me."
      "Which brings me to a few puzzling questions," I say. "Didn't Morrie tell us that the police warned all the local banks about him? So, why were the tellers surprised?"
      Evvie refills my popcorn cup. "And how does Grandpa make his getaway?"
      Ida says, "I'm guessing he hides things nearby, in his car. Or in a backpack. What we saw was a legless-man routine. I wonder how many other getaways he has in his bag of tricks?"
      Evvie adds, "What I want to know is how he knows us—does he live here in Lanai Gardens? Is he someone we see often?"
      "And we should pay attention to this map," I say, indicating the Fort Lauderdale map I've taped to the board. I used a marker to circle the locations of the six banks. Grandpa has hit so far—all within a five-mile radius of one another. "Within this same area there are at least three more banks that haven't been robbed yet. I wonder where he'll hit next time? We also need to figure out if there is a pattern to how often he robs and if there is a similarity to the time of day . . ." My cell phone rings, interrupting my daunting list of next steps. It's Jack. I tell him what we're up to. I turn so the girls won't see me blush as Jack informs me he's coming to my apartment tonight for our next attempt at a "sleepover."
      "What was that about?" Evvie asks when I hang up. But I'm saved from having to answer her question when a loud burst of thunder and lightning hits right above us.
      I quickly erase the board. Everybody hurries to the door. Evvie tosses suggestions as we go: "Keep safe. Pull the blinds. Stay away from windows."
      We race back to our apartments, holding hands. But I'm not thinking of the amount of rain or the velocity of the wind or Grandpa Bandit— I feel warm and fuzzy at the thought of my own thunder and lightning show on for tonight.

12

    Let's Try Again

    I t's after midnight. The weather outside is wild—
      the worst storm we've had in