FOURTEEN
LULA AND I left the bonds office, and Lula looked up and down the street. “I thought for sure there’d be a new black car delivered by now,” Lula said. “You don’t suppose Ranger ran out of cars, do you?”
“Maybe I’ve reached my monthly quota.”
A green SUV pulled in behind Lula’s Firebird, and Morelli got out.
“I’ll be with you in a minute,” I told Lula, and I went to meet Morelli.
Morelli stepped close to me, hands at my waist, and he nuzzled my neck.
“Is this a social visit?” I asked him.
“Not entirely. I wanted to see if you smelled like cow.”
I stepped away and looked at him. “Well?”
“Nope.”
“Is it against the law to smell like cow?”
“It is if you let a herd of them loose in the city.”
“How did you know?”
“Several of the workers who were interviewed remembered seeing a black woman with red hair and big boobs and a pretty girl with a brown ponytail.”
“They thought I was pretty?”
“Everyone thinks you’re pretty,” Morelli said.
“How about you?”
“Especially me,” he said. “What the hell were you doing at the packing plant?”
“I was after Butch Goodey. And it was all an accident.”
“You accidentally started a stampede?”
“Not me, exactly. Butch was working the holding pen, and he panicked when he saw me. And he bolted. And the cows bolted with him.”
Morelli put his hand to his chest. “Heartburn,” he said. “You have any Rolaids?”
“Too much stress,” I said. “It’s your job.”
“It’s not my job. It’s you. You’re a magnet for disaster.”
“So find a new girlfriend. Some nice, boring woman who remembers to buy bread.”
“Maybe I will,” Morelli said.
“Fine!”
“Fine, yourself.”
“Hmmph,” I said, and I turned on my heel, marched back to Lula’s Firebird, and got in.
“That looked like it went well,” Lula said.
“Just drive.”
“Don’t be Miss Crankypants with me just because you aren’t gettin’ any.”
“I could get plenty if I wanted.”
“You know what your problem is? You got too many scruples. One or two scruples is okay, but you get too many of them, and it clogs everything up.”
What she said made no sense at all, but was probably right.
“I got some scruples,” Lula said, “but I know when to stop. There’s a point where you have to say enough is enough and screw scruples.”
“Is this conversation going somewhere?”
“If it was me, I’d sleep with both of them, and when they found out, I’d move on. Sayonara, sweetie.”
“Jeez.”
Lula looked over at me. “Maybe that don’t work for you.”
I sprang forward in my seat. “It’s him! Chopper just drove past us. Black Lexus, tinted windows, fancy wheels, and his plate starts with CH.”
“I’m on it,” Lula said. “Keep your eye on him.”
There were three cars between us. Traffic was moderate on Hamilton at this time of the day.
“He turned right on Chambers,” I said to Lula.
“He’s going for one of his burger places,” Lula said. “I bet he’s heading for Meat & Go. It’s just ahead.”
We lost sight of the Lexus on Chambers, but spotted it parked at Meat & Go. Chopper was a big-ticket bond, and I was tired of getting skunked. No way was this one getting away.
“Park behind him so he’s blocked,” I said to Lula.
“What are you, nuts? This is my baby. I’m not getting my baby rammed. We saw what happened with Ranger’s Jeep. I’m parking far away, where no one’s gonna park next to me and ding my door.”
“Okay, fine,” I said. “Just park.”
We got out of the Firebird and took inventory. Lula had cuffs, pepper spray, stun gun, Glock, pearl-handled Derringer, switchblade knife, and brass knuckles. I had my.45, cuffs, pepper spray, and stun gun. Lula wanted to use everything in her arsenal. I wanted to use nothing.
“No excessive force,” I said to her.
“Sure, I know that,” Lula said. “Just get outta my way. I’m gonna bag this idiot.”
“No! Let me talk to him. He’s a professional. He’ll cooperate.”
“You always say that, and then they run over your toes.”
I put my hand to my chest and grunted.
“Something wrong?” Lula wanted to know.
“I think I have heartburn. What does heartburn feel like?”
“Pain.”
“I’ve got it. Do you have Rolaids?”
“No. I never have trouble with heartburn on account of I keep a positive attitude. And I got good digestion from eating right.”
“You eat everything.”
“Exactly. I get variety in my diet. Even when I was on that one diet, which I’m not anymore, I made the most of it.”
This was true.
“Stay behind me,” I said to Lula. “I’m going in.”
I had the cuffs at easy access, and I had the stun gun in hand. True, it didn’t work on Butch, but that was a fluke. I crossed the lot and rapped on the tinted driver’s side window. The window rolled down, and Chopper looked out at me. I knew Chopper by sight. He looked like Joe Pesci, if Joe Pesci was Cuban.
“Mortimer Gonzolez?” I asked.
“Yeah. What about it?”
“Bond enforcement,” I said. “You need to come with me to set a new court date.”
Technically, this was correct, but mostly it was baloney. He needed to come with me so he could get locked up until someone came to bond him out again. And bonding him out would cost him more money.
“Bite me,” Chopper said. And he powered his window up.
“That went well,” Lula said.
“If you say that one more time, I’m going to hit you with the stun gun and spray you full of pepper spray,” I said to her.
Lula pointed her Glock at Chopper’s front tire and fired off four rounds. The driver’s side door flew open and Chopper lunged out and looked at his tire and looked at Lula.
“Are you fuckin’ nuts?” Chopper yelled. “Do you know what one of them tires costs? It’s not no ordinary fuckin’ tire. It’s a run-flat.”
I clapped a bracelet onto his wrist, and he took a swing at me. I ducked and zapped him with the stun gun. Chopper’s eyes went blank, and he dropped to the pavement.
“I think we finally got one,” Lula said.
I snapped the second bracelet onto Chopper, and Lula and I dragged him to the Firebird.
