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can.
I thought that with the way my morning was running, it wouldn't hurt to have Lula along
when I went to see Stewart. Lula wasn't much good as an apprehension agent, but she
understood the need for a doughnut when a takedown went into the toilet.
“So WHAT DID this guy do?”
Lula was in the passenger seat of Ranger's Cayenne, looking through Stewart Hansens file.
“It just says controlled substance here. Who wrote this? It don't tell you anything.” I turned onto Myrtle and drove by the house. I
t looked benign. Small cottage. Small plot of
land. Indistinguishable from every other house on the street. Christmas lights still up,
outlining the front door. Not lit. I circled the block and parked one house down. Lula and I got
out and walked up to Stewart Hansen s house.
“This house is closed up tight,” Lula said. "It got blackout drapes on all the windows.
Either they're trying to conserve energy, or else they're running around naked in there.“ I had new cuffs and a stun gun from Connie. ”Easier to stun-gun someone when he's
naked."
“Yeah, you got a lot to choose from. You ready to do this?”
I gave her a thumbs-up, and she hauled out her gun and jogged around the house to secure
the back door. I felt comfortable she wouldn't have to shoot anyone because Lula, holding her
big Glock, dressed in her Sasquatch boots, poison-green tights, and matching spandex mini
skirt, topped off with a shocking-pink rabbit fur jacket, was enough to make a strong man
faint.
I had my cell phone on speaker, clipped to my jacket, the line open. “Are you in place?” I
asked Lula.
“Yep,” Lula said from the back of the house.
I rapped on the front door with my two-pound Maglite. No one answered, so I rapped
again, and yelled, “Bond enforcement!”
“Shit,” Lula said on speakerphone. "Turn your head when you do that. You just about
busted my eardrum."
“I'm going in,” I told her.
“Don't exert yourself breaking the door down. The back is open.”
I heard a gunshot and had a moment of panic.
