DEEPTI GUPTA

"There she is." George pulls over. A woman and a man come up to the car.

"George, how nice to see you!" The woman takes George's hand. "This is my neighbor, Sam Holt. George, did you hear? We have two thousand bats in the bathouse! All of them Mexican free-tails!" She looks in the back seat. "My, who are these people?"

George introduces you. "Deepti, these folks are from Councilman Pierce's office. They're looking into the dying frogs."

"Frogs?"Sam Holt sputters, leaning in the window. "Dying? Who cares. What you ought to be worryin' about is our dying pets!"

"What??" says Carolyn, aghast.

"It's true. Poisoned. For about five weeks now. First Mr. Dither's dog found dead. Then the Allahern's cat, you know, the big grey tom. Stone dead, both of them, not a mark on ‘em. Then Tommy Roberts says his dog was all slobbery and strange. And then two days ago," Sam's voice quivers with anger, "I find my Jack Rumpus dead in my back yard.

"Frogs? Blast it, we got more frogs than ever this year. Big ugly things come out at night, eat everything in sight."

"It's true," says Deepti. "I believe there's not a bug left in my garden."

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