Chapter Seven
The Turtle
“Never judge a rope by its length.”—The unknown cleaner
Jack and John were inside a turtle, and not even the cleaner had a clue.
It’s not like they had planned it; it just sort of happened.
It was the rope, the cleaner’s broom.
“Grab it!” She yelled as if her life depended on it while chasing the turtle with her broom.
The two men watched, wondering just what the cleaner thought a broom could do to a turtle large enough to sit on without seeing the ground.
Anyone would think the rope was made of gold the way the cleaner yelled. Six months of disappearing rope could do that to a cleaner—or Bette, as she liked to call herself (she had a fondness for Bette Davis’s films).
She was fed up replacing a washing line out of her own pocket and fed up dealing with th
