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tracking board was pleasantly full with plenty of frame orders to work on. Sue asked Elsie to check a measurement before she ordered a frame, then they worked together to assemble an oversized print.
    Ginny turned back to her paperwork, but the altercation at Jemmie’s upset her. If he could get so upset over frog pictures, what might he do if something serious happened? What could she do about it? She put in a call to the Westford police and asked to have an officer stop by for a consultation.
    ****
    Two days later, just after nine o’clock, Officer Tom DiAndreo pulled up in front of Brush & Bevel and knocked on the locked door. Ginny let him in and offered coffee.
    “Only if you’re having some,” he replied. “Unfortunately, some folks would consider it an ‘inducement.’”
    Ginny rolled her eyes. “I’ll get some for both of us. Sue and Elsie already have theirs.” When she returned with the cups, he was staring upward. She followed his gaze but couldn’t determine what he was looking at. She nudged his elbow. “Something interesting up there?”
    He grinned boyishly and accepted the coffee. “Nice ceiling. No spitballs.”
    “I should hope not.” She raised an eyebrow, inviting an explanation.
    “There are sixteen spitballs in the ceiling over my desk. Been there since I started twelve years ago. I keep complaining, but the cleaning staff never gets rid of ’em.”
    Ginny chuckled. “That’s why I do my own cleaning.”
    “Yeah, well, the town won’t spend money on a decent cleaning service. They’d rather spend it on ‘essentials’ like fireworks.” He shook his head and took a swig of coffee. “This is good. Thanks. Gets the dust of the file room out of my throat.”
    “Let me guess, they won’t spring for a proper filing system, either.”
    He winked. “One reason I’m applying to the state police.”
    Within a few minutes, Ed the landlord showed up and Carol from the deli came in, too. They each took a seat, some in the upholstered chairs and some on the tall swivel chairs.
    Mark scooted in and perched a hip on the design desk. DiAndreo stood beside the faux fireplace and waited until the chitchat died down.
    “You don’t look very surprised to see us all,” Ginny said.
    “Let me guess. It’s about Jemmie Demarais, right?”
    At their nod, he sighed. “Any time you feel threatened, I mean any time, call us. We’ll be right over. We all know he’s got a couple screws loose, even though we don’t think he’d actually hurt anyone. He doesn’t have to hurt someone to get in trouble with the law. Just threatening can be a crime. Now, do you have anything concrete against him?”
    They looked at each other, but it was Ginny who jumped in first. “He’s a royal pain, although I’ve never been afraid of him. I think he needs help, but I’m certainly not going to say that to him.”
    “No, I don’t think you should. It has to come from somebody close to him, or else from an official. Leave that part of it alone. What about his staff?”
    “They yell back, and now they’ve started walking out,” Elsie said. “I don’t want another situation like the one ten years ago…” She paused to see if DiAndreo remembered when Mike Bingham had frightened her so and went on at his nod, “and it’s not right that our customers have to hear that kind of stuff.”
    “Does he get profane? Because if he does, we can charge him with indecency.”
    “Not that I’ve heard,” Ginny started, but Mark spoke over her.
    “He’s got a potty mouth and he’s loud, but he doesn’t threaten. He’s just so weird!”
    Carol, who had been quiet up ’til now, said, “I’ve heard things out of him I wouldn’t want my kids to hear. He scares some of the high schoolers who work for me in the afternoons. One girl even quit because of him.”
    The policeman said, “I think I have enough information here that I’d be justified in having a talk with him. Do you want me to?”
    Since it had come