door.

Eugene gave the door a kick just below the handle. Nothing. He put his shoulder into it. Nothing. He shot the lock and kicked some more. Enough of the wood had splintered off that some of the rebar was showing through.

“He’s got this thing reinforced,” Eugene said.

“I’m not leaving here empty-handed,” Larry said. “We’ll take one of the women.”

“Whoever the heck you work for won’t be happy with that,” Lula said. “They want Vinnie. Do any of us look like Vinnie? I don’t think so.”

“Which one do you want?” Eugene asked. “You want the fat one mouthing off?”

Lula’s eyes got so wide they looked like billiard balls. “Excuse me? Did you just say I was fat? Because you better not have said that. I am big and beautiful, but I am not fat. And I don’t put up with that slander shit. And I would just like to see you lay one hand on me, because I’ll kick your ass from here to Sunday.”

“How about if we shoot you,” Larry said.

“You’d be in big trouble with The Wellington Company again. They wouldn’t have no one to do the filing. Maybe they’d talk to your boss, and he’d make one of you morons come in here to do the filing. Is that what you want? You want to file all day, because it’s no picnic.”

“You take her and I quit,” Eugene said. “She never shuts up.”

“I hear you,” Larry said. “Take one of the others.”

Eugene looked at him. “Which one? How about the one at the desk with the tits.”

Now that was insulting. “Hey,” I said. “Show some sensitivity. I’ve got tits, too, you know.”

“So take the one with the little tits,” Larry said. “I don’t care who you take. I just want to get out of here.”

“Thanks, but no,” I said.

“I thought you were volunteering,” Larry said.

“I wasn’t volunteering. I was just pointing out that I have tits.”

“Grab her,” Larry said to Eugene.

I moved fast and put Connie’s desk between us. We danced around the desk a couple times, and Larry yelled to stop.

“Here’s the way it’s going down,” Larry said to me. “You go with us, or I’m going to shoot one of your friends.”

“What happens if I go with you?”

“I guess we hold you hostage until we can swap you out for the loser in the office.”

“That don’t sound so bad,” Lula said.

“Well, great,” I said to Lula. “If you think it sounds so wonderful, you can go with them.”

“Nuh-ah,” Lula said. “I’m mad at them. Mr. Pasty Flabby said I was fat.”

Mr. Pasty Flabby aimed the gun at Lula and squeezed off a round. The bullet tagged her in the fleshy part of her arm and dug into the wall behind her. Connie opened her desk drawer, grabbed the Glock, and shot Larry in the knee. Larry yelped and went down like a sack of sand.

“Drop your guns, or I’ll shoot him again,” Connie said.

Eugene and Mo dropped their guns and froze, and Larry rolled around, holding his knee, bleeding through his slacks.

“Get him out of here,” Connie said. “And don’t come back.”

Eugene and Mo dragged Larry out the door, shoved him into their car, and laid rubber driving off.

“That asshole shot me,” Lula said. “And now I’m bleeding. Somebody get me a Band-Aid. I’m gonna be real upset if I get blood on this tank top. It was one-of-a-kind at T.J.Maxx. I was lucky to find it.“

Bolts slid, and Vinnie’s door creaked open. “Are they gone?” Vinnie asked, peeking out.

“Yes,” Connie said. “But they’ll be back.”

“We have a problem,” I said. “Where are we going to stash Vinnie?”

“Don’t even think about me,” Lula said.

“He’s your relative,” Connie said to me.

“I already took a turn at it,” I told her.

“Mooner’s out,” Connie said. “He’s going to be wall-to-wall Hobbits.”

I looked at Vinnie. “Well?”

“How about a hotel?” Vinnie said.

“No money,” Connie told him. “We’re totally in the red.”

“Don’t you have any friends?” I asked Vinnie.

“I only have friends when I have money,” Vinnie said.

“That’s just sad,” Lula said. “You’re a pathetic individual.”

“Bite me,” Vinnie said.

“See, that’s what we’re talkin’ about,” Lula said. “You’re a hotbed of anger, and since I’m takin’ these courses in human nature, I know that comes from insecurity. You probably wet your bed or something. Or maybe you got a little pencil dick, or you can’t get it up without sexual enhancement aids. Or maybe you’re one of those who got a crook in their penis. It’s pretty common, but some men don’t like it. Personally, I find a dick that turns a corner can be a unique experience.”

“Just shoot me,” Vinnie said.

“I’ll take him until I find something better,” I said, “but both of you owe me. I expect you to come over and clean my bathroom when he leaves.”

***

I DEPOSITED VINNIE in my apartment and gave him strict instructions. He was to use his own towels. He was to stay out of my bedroom. My bed was off limits, and my clothes were off limits. He was not to finger my panties. He was not to feed Rex or tap on his cage. He could eat my food and drink my beer as long as he didn’t clean me out.

“Sure,” Vinnie had said. “Whatever.”

I’d changed into a little black skirt, white stretchy top with a low V-neck, black lightweight cardigan sweater, and black heels. Lenny Pickeral, the toilet paper bandit, was going to be at Burt Pickeral’s viewing tonight, and I felt compelled to capture Lenny. I’m not sure why, because the bail bonds office wasn’t exactly operational. I suppose this was a way to convince myself of some normalcy.

I called to see if Grandma wanted a ride to the viewing.

“That would be wonderful,” Grandma said. “Emily Klug was supposed to pick me up, but she’s got bleeding hemorrhoids.”

Grandma and I got there a half hour after the viewing started, and the lot attached to the funeral home was packed. I dropped Grandma off at the door and watched her stomp and step to the stairs. She had borrowed crutches, and between the crutches and the ortho boot, she was making the most of her broken bone. I parked a block away and did a fast walk back to Stiva’s.

The air in the funeral home was heavy with the smell of carnations and lilies. I don’t have allergies, but funeral home flowers make my nose run. Too many flowers in too small a space, I suppose, combined with overly perfumed women and Stiva’s inadequate ventilation.

The Elks arrived in full regalia with sashes and hats and medallions and hundred-proof breath just as I entered the lobby. I pushed through the crush, looking for Grandma, looking for Lenny Pickeral. Probably, it was a terrible thing to attempt an arrest in the midst of grief, but it was my job, and it was the law. And the truth is, no one in this crowd seemed overwhelmed by the tragedy of Burt’s passing. Burt led a long, full life, and the Burg is good at accepting death. Lots of devout Catholics who found genuine solace in their faith.

I heard an exclamation go up in front of me. It was followed by murmuring and some movement. I squeezed my way in and saw Grandma standing over Maria Lorenzo. Two men were trying to get Maria up on her feet, but Maria topped the scales at somewhere around two hundred and fifty pounds, and they were having a hard time figuring out where to grab her.

“Sorry I knocked you down,” Grandma said to Maria. “It’s these dang crutches. I haven’t got the hang of them yet, but I got to use them, because my foot is broke all over. I should be in a wheelchair, but I don’t want to look

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