High Five

girls' boyfriends. Not to mention, I'd been married for less than a year when I'd caught Joyce woman-superior on my dining room table with my sweating, cheating exhusband.

'I'm going to reason with Briggs,' I said.

'Oh boy,' Lula said. 'This is gonna be good. I gotta see this.'

'No. I'm going alone. I can do this by myself.'

'Sure,' Lula said. 'I know that. Only it'd be more fun if I was there.'

'No! No, no, no.'

'Boy, you sure do got an attitude these days,' Lula said. 'You were better when you were getting some, you know what I mean? I don't know why you gave Morelli the boot anyway. I don't usually like cops, but that man has one fine ass.'

I knew what she meant about my attitude. I was feeling damn cranky. I hitched my bag onto my shoulder. 'I'll call if I need help.'

'Unh,' Lula said.

*    *    *    *    *

 THINGS WERE QUIET at Cloverleaf Apartments. No traffic in the lot. No traffic in the dingy foyer. I took the stairs and knocked on Briggs' door. No answer. I moved out of sight and dialed his number on my cell phone.

'Hello,' Briggs said.

'It's Stephanie. Don't hang up! I have to talk to you.'

'There's nothing to talk about. And I'm busy. I have work to do.'

'Look, I know this court thing is inconvenient for you. And I know it's unfair because you were unjustly charged. But it's something you have to do.'

'No.'

'Then do it for me.'

'Why should I do it for you?'

'I'm a nice person. And I'm just trying to do my job. And I need the money to pay for a pair of shoes I just bought. And even more, if I don't bring you in, Vinnie is going to give your case to Joyce Barnhardt. And I hate Joyce Barnhardt.'

'Why do you hate Joyce Barnhardt?'

'I caught her screwing my husband, who is now my ex-husband, on my dining-room table. Can you imagine? My diningroom table.'

'Jeez,' Briggs said. 'And she's a bounty hunter, too?'

'Well, she used to do makeovers at Macy's, but now she's working for Vinnie.'

'Bummer.'

'Yeah. So, how about it? Won't you let me bring you in? It won't be so bad. Honest.'

'Are you kidding? I'm not letting a loser like you bring me in. How would it look?'

Click. He hung up.

Loser? Excuse me? Loser? Okay, that does it. No more Ms. Nice Person. No more reasoning. This jerk is going down. 'Open this door!' I yelled. 'Open this goddamn door!'

A woman popped her head out from the apartment across the hall. 'If you don't stop this racket I'm going to call the police. We don't put up with this kind of goings-on here.'

I turned and looked at her.

'Oh, dear,' she said and slammed her door shut.

I gave Briggs' door a couple kicks with my foot and hammered on it with my fists. 'Are you coming out?'

'Loser,' he said through the door. 'You're just a stupid loser, and you can't make me do anything I don't want to do.'

I hauled my gun out of my shoulder bag and fired one off at the lock. The round glanced off the metal and lodged in the door frame. Christ. Briggs was right. I was a fucking loser. I didn't even know how to shoot off a lock.

I ran downstairs to the Buick and got a tire iron out of the trunk. I ran back upstairs and started whacking away at the door with the tire iron. I made a couple dents but that was about it. Bashing the door in with the tire iron was going to take a while. My forehead was beaded with sweat, and sweat stained the front of my T-shirt. A small crowd of people had collected at the far end of the hall.

'You gotta get the tire iron between the door and the jamb,' an old man at the end of the hall said. 'You gotta wedge it in.'

'Shut up, Harry,' a woman said. 'Anyone can see she's crazy. Don't encourage her.'

'Only trying to be helpful,' Harry said.

I followed his advice and wedged the iron between the door and the jamb and leaned into it. A chunk of wood splintered off the jamb and some metal stripping pulled away.

'See?' Harry said. 'I told you.'