I think my neighbor's in the mafia

The house next door has sat vacant for almost a year and a half. We met the new owner, and he seems like a nice guy, but he sure isn't in any hurry to move in. In fact, since he bought the house there has been a steady stream of workers going in and out of the house - with no obvious changes to the house. Sometimes there will only be one truck in the driveway, sometimes a dozen. If they're making significant changes to the interior, they must be doing it with very small tools or with great attention to the slightest detail for it to take a year and a half.

With increasing good weather recently has come something a bit more troubling: workers sitting on the back porch in lawn chairs. I kid you not. It's like I have Vito Spatafore and Philip "Philly Spoons" Parisi next door fulfilling their no-work contracts. I keep expecting to see Paulie Walnuts in his shiny gray track suit walking around using his index and pinky fingers to point at things. If someone pulls out a reflective tanning board and starts sunning his chin I'm moving. Unfortunately for me, Kate loves them. She runs over to the fence and yells, "HI!" while giving them her little wave. They all think it's quite sweet, but I can only guess what they're saying about me.

So now I'm getting paranoid about what they are doing over there. I noticed that the basement light is on late into the night. It's not like there's a prison nearby that they can tunnel to, and the closest bank seems a bit far. Whenever a group of them go into the house I look for the one mouthing "help me" in my direction. I'll be the one mouthing back, "no."

Seriously, what do you think they're up to?