“I don’t want to miss the juju-changing moment,” Lula said.
“Scoff all you want, but you’ll see. I’m turning this around.”
“I’m not scoffin’,” Lula said. “Do I look like I’m scoffin’?”
“Yes.”
“Well, okay, maybe I’m scoffin’ a little.”
We threaded our way through the kids’ toys littering the sidewalk, and I rang Lahonka’s doorbell.
“Go away!” Lahonka yelled through the door.
“I want to talk.”
“I’m busy. Come back next year.”
“How about this,” Lula said. “How about you open this door, or I’ll shoot it full of holes.”
“You can’t do that,” Lahonka said. “This here’s public housing. That’s a taxpayer door. Us taxpayers put in good money for that door.”
“You pay taxes?” Lula asked.
“Not me personally,” she said. “I don’t
“Stand back,” Lula said. “I’m shooting.”
“No! No shooting.” Lahonka opened the door. “Do you have any idea how long it takes to get a new door in public housing? And all kinds of vermin could climb in through those holes. Last time someone shot a hole in my door, I got a vampire bat in here.”
Lula looked through the open door. “You do pretty good for not paying taxes. You got a big flat-screen television and nice furniture. And is that your Mercedes at the curb?”
“I’m a entrepreneur,” Lahonka said. “I’m the American dream.”
“More like the American nightmare,” Lula said.
“Back to business,” I said to Lahonka. “We need to take you downtown to get rebonded. You missed your court date.”
“I know I missed my court date. You already told me that. I’m electing not to participate in the judicial system.”
“You don’t want your kids growing up thinking you’re a scofflaw, do you?” Lula said.
“I don’t know what the heck scofflaw means. Is that Russian?” Lahonka pulled some credit cards out of her pocket. “I can see you two ladies are no dummies. So I’ll make a deal with you. You can each have your pick of all these credit cards if you forget this whole thing.”
“Are you tryin’ to bribe us?” Lula asked. “Because we don’t take no bribes. We got honor. We got integrity coming out our ass.” She looked down at the cards. “Holy smoke. Is that a platinum American Express card? And a Tiffany card? Where’d you get a Tiffany card?”
“Is that the one you want?” Lahonka asked. “You want the Tiffany? That’s a real good choice.”
“I guess I could use a Tiffany card,” Lula said. “Don’t see no harm in taking a Tiffany card. It’s not like I’d have to use it, but it would class up my wallet.”
“She doesn’t want the Tiffany card,” I said to Lahonka. “You’re going to have to come downtown with us.”
She stepped back, slammed the door shut, and locked it. “Bite me!” she yelled through the door.
“Shoot the door,” I said to Lula.
“What about the politely reasoning shit?” Lula asked.
“Just shoot the damn door.”
“You can’t shoot it,” Lahonka yelled. “I’m standing right here behind it, and if you shoot the door, you’ll shoot me. And I’m a unarmed woman.”
“No problem,” Lula said, hauling her Glock out of her purse. “I’ll shoot low.” And Lula squeezed one off.
“
“Do you think she’s really shot?” I asked Lula.
Lula shrugged. “I didn’t think the bullet would go through the door, but looks like that’s one of them cheapskate hollow jobs. There should be a law against those doors.”
Lahonka ripped the door open. “Of course I’m shot, you moron. What the hell’s wrong with you, shooting a unarmed woman? I’m feelin’ faint. Everything’s goin’ black.”
And Lahonka crashed to the floor.
Lula looked down at Lahonka’s foot. “Yep, she’s shot all right.”
“This is going to mean a lot of paperwork,” I said to Lula.
“You told me to shoot her. Wasn’t my idea,” Lula said. “I was just following orders. Hell, I’m not even a real bounty hunter. You’re the bounty hunter in charge, and I’m just a bounty hunter helper.”
I had a twitch in my left eye. I put my finger to it and took a couple deep breaths. “We need to take her to the emergency room. Help me drag her out to the truck.”
“Good thinking that you got a truck,” Lula said. “We can lay her out in the back, and you don’t even have to worry about her bleeding all over the place.”
Fifteen minutes later, I pulled into the hospital emergency drive-thru. I stopped in front of the entrance, and Lula and I ran around to get Lahonka.
“Uh-oh,” Lula said. “There’s no Lahonka here. She must have jumped out at a light or something.”
We retraced our steps to make sure Lahonka wasn’t road-kill, toes cocked in the gutter.
“I didn’t even see no blood trails,” Lula said when I parked in front of the office. “I thought I shot her good enough to at least draw blood.”
“You’ve got to stop shooting people,” I said. “It’s against the law.”
“That wasn’t my fault,” Lula said, pushing through the front door to the office. “That was your fault. It’s your juju. It sucks. It’s getting frightening just being next to you.”
“Oh God, now what?” Connie said.
“No big deal,” Lula said. “We just can’t catch anyone.”
“As long as you didn’t shoot anyone,” Connie said. “You didn’t shoot anyone, did you?”
Lula’s eyes got big. “Why do you ask? Did you hear something?”
Connie put her hands over her ears. “I don’t want to know. Don’t tell me.”
“Fine by me,” Lula said. “I don’t want to talk about it, either. Wasn’t exactly a gratifying experience. Not that it was my fault.”
“Anything new come in?” I asked Connie.
“No. It’s been slow,” Connie said. “Moving the office around isn’t helping business.”
I stepped outside and tried Joyce again, but she still wasn’t picking up. While I was standing on the sidewalk a gray Camry parked behind my truck and Berger and Gooley got out.
“I liked the last office location,” Gooley said. “One-stop shopping. You could get bonded out and buy a black- and-white cookie all at the same time.”
“We have the finished sketch,” Berger said to me. “We wanted you to take a last look at it before we send it up the line.” He pulled the sketch out of a folder and handed it to me. “Is this the guy in the photograph?”
“I can barely remember the photograph,” I told him, “but this guy looks familiar.”
Lula swung out of the office and looked over my shoulder. “I know this guy,” she said. “It’s Tom Cruise.”
I looked back at the photograph. Lula was right. It was Tom Cruise. No wonder he looked familiar.
Connie wandered out. “What’s going on?”
Lula showed the sketch to Connie. “Who is this?”
“Tom Cruise,” Connie said.
Gooley gave a snort of laughter, and Berger closed his eyes and pinched his nose between thumb and index finger, indicating an approaching migraine. They turned on their heels, retreated to the Camry, and drove off.
“What were they doing with a picture of Tom Cruise?” Lula was excited. “Is he in the area? Is he making a
