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“Lucky guess.”
“Tiki and me have been working the bridge traffic and the Starbucks crowd, and I’ve almost got enough saved up to get us back to Hawaii. So going to jail doesn’t fit into the plan.”
“I want to know why you trashed the cop car,” Lula said.
“The stupid cop took Tiki.”
“The wooden thing.”
“Yeah. He has a name besides Tiki but I forgot it so I call him Tiki.”
“The tiki is named Tiki?”
“He doesn’t mind,” Logan said. “He’s cool with it. Anyway, Tiki was sitting in front of Starbucks waiting for me to come back with a cinnamon latte, and the cop picked him up. The cop said Tiki looked stolen, but I think he just wanted Tiki. Like the cop was the one doing the stealing. Like the cop had a tiki fetish or something. I came out and about freaked when I saw Tiki locked up in the cop car. And Tiki was freaked too. Let me out, let me out, he was saying.”
“You heard it talking?” Lula asked.
“Yeah, of course. Well, you know, in my head. That’s how Tiki always talks to me.”
“He talkin’ to you now?” Lula wanted to know.
“Not now, but before you came he was telling me he wanted eggs for breakfast.”
“How’s he take his eggs?” Lula asked.
“Usually scrambled. And some wheat toast.”
“I bet you smoke a lot of weed,” Lula said. “Maybe do some ’shrooms.”
“No way. I’m pure. Maybe in the past, you know, but Tiki doesn’t like that stuff.”
“Good to know,” Lula said. “Back to the cop car. Why’d you bash it in?”
“Well, at first I just smashed the window to get Tiki out, but then I got into it, like it was a rush. I mean, have you ever trashed a cop car? It’s the best.”
“It got you arrested,” I said.
“Yeah. I look back at it now, and I think it was Tiki messin’ with my head, telling me to trash the car. I shouldn’t have taken him away from Pele.”
“Who’s Pele?” Lula asked.
“She’s the volcano goddess. She lives in Kilauea, and this guy here’s one of her dudes. So you see how I’m on a holy mission, right?”
“Why don’t you just FedEx the dude back to Pele,” Lula said.
“It don’t work that way. I have to put the tiki dude in the right spot. I gotta say words over him. Like how I’m sorry I put him in with my dirty laundry, and how now he and Pele can get it on.”
“You’ll have a chance to explain all that to the judge,” I said. “And if you don’t have any priors you might get away with community service.”
“Uh-oh,” Logan said. “I might have had a few substance indiscretions.”
“Guess you’re goin’ to the pokey, then,” Lula said.
His eyes darted from me to Lula and back to me, and he bolted, lunging out of the tent, knocking me over. “No!”
I scrambled to my feet and ran flat out, but I couldn’t catch him. Logan dodged traffic on Third and disappeared down the street.
Lula came clattering after me on her four-inch Via Spiga spike heels. “He’s a fast bugger,” she said, bending at the waist, trying to catch her breath. “You should have just shot him.”
