Sheila went to her favorite part of the greenhouse, the desert room. This wing of the conservatory had all manner of succulents and cacti. A lot of the plants had small, colorful blooms since the summer had been so sunny. She just slowly walked through, admiring the plants until she saw some strange movement through the glass.
There was someone climbing on the top of her Duck. He had pulled the staircase down and then continued to shimmy up the stanchions, getting up on the roof. The man was jumping up and down while some of her passengers stood on the lawn of the museum and watched. Sheila almost knocked a couple of elderly ladies making her way out of the greenhouse, but then she ran back to the boat yelling.
“Hey! Get down!” she yelled, getting closer.
The man turned saw her running his way, but he continued his rampage. He leaped into the air and when his feet crashed down, one of his legs shot through the roof. He sat there stunned for a moment and then started pulling his leg out.
“I’m calling the cops! Get off my roof!” she screamed when she got to the entry stairs.
The man pulled his leg out of the hole and saw that Sheila was on the rear stairs. He made his way to the front and jumped onto the hood of the vehicle and then to the sidewalk, tumbling right in front of the tourists who thought that it was pretty good theater. Sheila jumped down from the stairs and ran towards him.
He got up and and shook his fist at Sheila, shouting “Keep at it and you’ll end up like your friends!”
Then the man turned and ran with surprising speed into the trees next to the museum. Sheila tried to follow for a short time, but gave up and went back to the boat. By this time all of her passengers were standing on the lawn, looking at pictures that a couple of their friends had taken of the excitement.
“Hey,” Sheila said, out of breath, “can I get a copy of some of those for my boss?”
“Yes, we can copy to computer. Very easy, all digital,” the man with the camera said.
Sheila went on board the boat and pushed the pieces of the roof under the last row of seats. She rocked the boat back and forth with the roof stanchions and it all seemed stable, so she figured that it would be OK to continue the trip.
“The fun’s over! Let’s get going,” she said, waving them back on board.
The remainder of the trip went as planned and she pulled into the station with a happy boatload of customers. She made sure to keep the man with the digital camera in sight when everyone waddled off the boat.
“Excuse me, can we copy your pictures now?” she asked him.
“Sure, need computer, very easy,” he said.
Sheila waved for him to follow her inside and she found The Padre sitting at the computer in his office.
“We need to download some pictures from this gentleman’s camera. There was a crazy man up at Voluteer Park who damaged the roof of my boat,” Sheila told The Padre.
“What did he do?”, he asked.
“You have wi-fi?”, the tourist asked.
“He jumped on the roof and punched a hole in it,” Sheila said.
“Yes, I have wi-fi. Did you catch him?”, The Padre asked.
“Card name, Suki, for wi-fi,” the man with the camera said.
“Only on film, so to speak. He ran off before I could grab him,” Sheila said.
“Suki? What?”, The Padre said.
“Let me do,” the tourist said, squeezing his way behind the desk.
He certainly knew his way around the computer desktop, and had the memory card in the camera talking to the computer of the wi-fi network in no time. All of the pictures on the card showed up on the screen and he dragged a copy of all the photos of the criminal to The Padre’s hard drive.
“All done,” he said, closing down the connection.
