18 Explosive Eighteen (13 page)

Forty minutes later, I eased the truck to the curb in front of the new office. A makeshift sign in the window advertised Vincent Plum Bail Bonds. Connie was at one of the two desks, and Lula was looking uncomfortable in a folding chair.

“Who designs these things anyways?” Lula said when I walked in. “My ass don’t fit. They think everybody got some bony ass? What about us big-and-beautiful-ass people? Where are we supposed to sit? I’m gonna have an ass crease from hangin’ off this thing. And it don’t got arms or nothin’. Couldn’t you get a chair with arms? Where am I supposed to set my chicken bucket?”

“You haven’t got a chicken bucket,” Connie said.

“Yeah, but I’m gonna,” Lula told her. “And where am I gonna set it?”

The office was beyond bare bones. Voices echoed in the empty room. The wal s were army-surplus khaki. The floor was liquidation linoleum. It was lit by light from the storefront window and an overhead forty-watt bulb.

“This is sort of depressing,” I said to Connie.

“This is nothing,” Connie said. “Wait until it rains.

You’l want to eat a bul et.”

I saw Vinnie’s Caddy angle in behind my truck.

Vinnie literal y sprang out and skipped into the office.

“I don’t know what he’s on, but I want some,” Lula said.

Vinnie stopped in the middle of the room, stuffed his hands into his pants pockets, and rocked back on his heels. He was grinning and snorting with happiness. “I did it,” he said. “I fixed DeAngelo good.

You don’t mess with Vincent Plum. No way. You pay the price.” And Vinnie did one of those spike-the-bal things you see footbal players do when they make a touchdown. “Yeah, baby,” he said. “
Yeah
!”

“What did you do?” Lula asked.

“I fil ed his Mercedes with horse shit,” Vinnie said.

“I know this guy who has horses, and I got him to take his dung pile and dump it into DeAngelo’s Mercedes last night. Fil ed that Mercedes from the floor to the roof. Had to break a window to get it al in. DeAngelo blew up my bus, so I fil ed his car with shit. Genius, right?”

“DeAngelo didn’t blow up the bus,” Connie said. “I just got the report from the fire marshal. The coffeemaker shorted out and started the fire.” Some of the color left Vinnie’s face. “Say what?”

“Oh man,” Lula said. “DeAngelo is gonna be pissed. Least he won’t know who did it.”

“I left a note,” Vinnie said.

Lula gave a hoot of laughter and fel off her chair.

“But we al thought he did it,” Vinnie said.

“This could be bad,” Connie said. “DeAngelo is connected. And I don’t think he has a sense of humor.”

I caught a flash of black on the street and saw an Escalade double-park.

“Uh-oh,” I said. “I think this is DeAngelo.” Vinnie dove for cover under Connie’s desk.

The front door banged open, and DeAngelo stormed in, red-faced and crazy-eyed.

“Where is he? I know he’s here,” DeAngelo said.

“Perverted, slimy little weasel.”

Lula stood. “Hey, look who’s here. It’s Spanky.” DeAngelo looked over at Lula. “Your asshole boss fil ed my car with horse shit.”

Lula brushed herself off and adjusted her girls.

“That car was al wrong for you anyways,” Lula said.

“You should be driving something hot, like a Ferrari or one of them Lamborghinis. Or maybe some big ol’ muscle car. You just don’t belong in that plain-ass Mercedes. He did you a favor. You’d get a lot more complimentary BJs if you was driving a Ferrari.”

“You’re right,” DeAngelo said. “Tel your boss if he delivers on a Ferrari, I won’t kil him.” DeAngelo turned on his heel, left the office, and was whisked away in the Escalade.

“That went pretty good,” Lula said.

Vinnie crawled out from under the desk. “Where am I going to get a Ferrari? Do you have any idea what a Ferrari costs? It costs more than my house.”

• • •

“That was fun,” Lula said. “What are we gonna do next? I’m in a mood to
wham
somebody.”

“We need to pay another visit to Lahonka Goudge,” I said.

Lula hiked her bag onto her shoulder. “I’m up for that.”

We took my truck, and I drove into the projects and crept past Lahonka’s unit.

“We gonna be sneaky, or we just gonna bust in?” Lula asked.

“We’re going to ring her doorbel and politely but firmly reason with her.”

“Oh yeah,” Lula said. “That always works. How about I just wait in the truck.”

“Fine,” I said. “Wait in the truck. This won’t take long, because I have a positive attitude this morning, and I’m going to get the job done. I’m changing my juju.”

“Good for you,” Lula said. “Only you’d change your juju faster if you sneak up on her, put a pil owcase over her head, and hit her with a big stick.
WHAM
!” I parked, and we both got out of the truck.

“I thought you were staying behind,” I said.

“I don’t want to miss the juju-changing moment,” Lula said.

“Scoff al you want, but you’l see. I’m turning this around.”

“I’m not scoffin’,” Lula said. “Do I look like I’m scoffin’?”

“Yes.”

“Wel , okay, maybe I’m scoffin’ a little.” We threaded our way through the kids’ toys littering the sidewalk, and I rang Lahonka’s doorbel .

“Go away!” Lahonka yel ed 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’l shoot it ful 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 personal y,” she said. “I don’t
give
money.

I just
get
money. I’m on the good side of that coin.”

“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 al 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 pul ed some credit cards out of her pocket. “I can see you two ladies are no dummies. So I’l make a deal with you. You can each have your pick of al 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 wal et.”

“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 yel ed 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 yel ed. “I’m standing right here behind it, and if you shoot the door, you’l shoot me. And I’m a unarmed woman.”

“No problem,” Lula said, hauling her Glock out of her purse. “I’l shoot low.” And Lula squeezed one off.

“
YOW
!” Lahonka shrieked. “You shot me. You sonovabitch, you shot me in my foot. I’m gonna die.

I’m gonna bleed to death. I don’t got no insurance, either. And what about my kids? Who’s gonna take care of my kids when I’m dead? I’m wil in’ them to you. You deserve them, you sonovabitch. Let’s see
you
buy new sneakers every time their goddamn feet grow.”

“Do you think she’s real y shot?” I asked Lula.

Lula shrugged. “I didn’t think the bul et would go through the door, but looks like that’s one of them cheapskate hol ow jobs. There should be a law against those doors.”

Lahonka ripped the door open. “Of course I’m shot, you moron. What the hel ’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 al 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 fol owing orders. Hel , 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 al over the place.” Fifteen minutes later, I pul ed 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-kil , 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 tel 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 stil 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 al 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 pul ed 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 movie here? I wouldn’t mind seeing Tom Cruise. I hear he’s short, but I wouldn’t hold that against him.”

“It was supposed to be a sketch of the guy in the photograph,” I said, “but I guess I was thinking of Tom Cruise when I gave the description to the FBI artist.”

“Or maybe the guy in the photograph
was
Tom Cruise,” Lula said.

I shook my head. “He wasn’t Tom Cruise, but I think there were similarities. His hair and the shape of his face.”

“I say we go proactive,” Lula said. “What we gotta do is root out the bad guys. We gotta get to the bottom of this. This is like one of them intrigue things. If we just knew what this story was, I bet it could be a television show. They’re always looking for good shit like this.”