AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Dark sports coat and a blue dress shirt.”
Great. That described half the Pickerals. I moved to the other side of the room and asked again.
“He’s right over there, talking to Aunt Sophie,” the woman said. “He has his back to us.”
I slipped in next to Lenny and put my hand on his arm. “Lenny Pickeral?” I asked.
He turned and looked at me. “Yeah.”
“Excuse us,” I said to Aunt Sophie. “I’d like a word with Lenny.”
Lenny was my height and slim. His clothes were neat but inexpensive. His skin tone was office worker. I led him to a quiet corner and introduced myself.
“What does that mean?” Lenny asked. “Bond enforcement.”
“When you didn’t show up for trial, my employer had to forfeit the money he posted for you. If I bring you back to the court to get a new date, we get our money back.”
“That sounds okay,” Lenny said. “When do you want to do that?”
“Now.”
“Will it take long? I drove my mom here.”
“Can she get someone else to take her home?”
“I guess. Is there night court? How does this work?”
He was asking too many questions. And I could see the panic pooling in his eyes. He was going to run. I pulled cuffs out of my purse and click! One was around his wrist. His eyes got wide, and his mouth dropped open, and he looked at the cuff like it was reptilian.
“I don’t want to make a scene. Just quietly and calmly walk out with me,” I said.
“What’s going on?” a woman said. “Why did you put handcuffs on Lenny? Hey, Maureen, look at this.”
In the space of a heartbeat, Lenny and I were surrounded by Pickerals.
“Nothing dramatic going on,” I said. “I’m just taking Lenny downtown to reschedule his court date.”
“Is this over the toilet paper?” a man asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“It’s not fair. He gave it all back.”
“And it was for a good cause,” another man said. “He was protesting. You ever have to use one of them restrooms on the Turnpike? That toilet paper’s like wax paper.”
Okay, here’s the thing. I actually hated the toilet paper in the Turnpike restrooms, so I understood the protest. Problem was, the only thing worse than the wax paper toilet paper was no toilet paper at all.
An older woman bustled in. “I’m his mother. What’s this?” she said, taking in the handcuffs.
“It’s about the toilet paper,” someone said.
“Oh, for goodness sakes,” Mrs. Pickeral said. “It was toilet paper. And it wasn’t even any good.”
“Besides, it’s his life’s work,” a woman said. “He’s a crusader. He’s like Robin Hood.”
“Yeah,” everyone murmured. “Robin Hood.”
“He still has to keep his court date,” I told them.
