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“Pooka threw a jar at us. It was filled with fleas and it smashed on the 300 block of Oak Street,” I said to Morelli. “You might want to have it exterminated or something.”
“I’ll call it in,” Morelli said.
“Now that we blew something up and captured the dirtbag I could use some ice cream,” Grandma said. “We didn’t get to have dessert.”
“Good thinking, Granny,” Lula said.
We all turned and looked back at the twisted, charred disaster that used to be a van and a car.
“Uh-oh,” Lula said.
Ranger handed me the keys to his SUV. “I’ll have someone come get me. Tank and I need to stay and make funeral arrangements for the Macan anyway.”
•••
I drove Ranger’s SUV back to Cluck-in-a-Bucket. We all got ice cream sundaes and took them to the booth by the window.
“Good thing I took my purse when I got out of the Macan,” Grandma said. “We couldn’t have bought these sundaes otherwise.”
My mother, Lula, and I had exited fast and left our purses behind. Tomorrow I’d be going to get a replacement driver’s license and a new messenger bag.
“I understand why you do your job,” my mother said to me. “There’s a sense of accomplishment when you take down someone bad. It’s like being a police officer or being in the Army or being a mother. You have a responsibility to protect and keep order, and you do whatever it takes to get that done.” My mother spooned into her ice cream. “I got a real rush out of it, too. I liked hitting him.”
“Yeah, we could see that,” Lula said. “You were a wild woman.”
“I have my moments,” my mother said.
•••
I dropped my mother and grandmother off, and I was heading for home when I spotted Lula’s red Firebird in my rearview mirror. I pulled over and stopped and she ran up to me.
“I saw him,” Lula said. “I saw the lawnmower guy. He’s cutting grass on Lime Street. I was going across town to get a new driver’s license and there he was plain as day. You should go get him. It’ll be easy.”
Lime Street wasn’t far away. Five minutes tops. Jesus Sanchez wasn’t a big ticket bond, but his capture would pay for a new messenger bag. I turned around and took Liberty Street to Lime with Lula following me.
I parked when I saw Sanchez, and Lula parked behind me. I searched through Ranger’s stash of weapons and helped myself to cuffs and a stun gun. Lula got out of the Firebird and crossed the street with me. Sanchez didn’t see us or hear us. He was busy cutting grass. I walked directly behind, reached around, and clamped a bracelet on him. He looked at the bracelet and jumped away from the mower.
“He’s gonna run,” Lula said.
I saw the panic in his eyes and knew she was right. He turned from me and Lula tackled him. I got the second cuff on him, and as soon as Lula rolled off I pulled him up to his feet.
“Who owns the lawnmower?” I asked him.
“The lady in the house.”
We left the lawnmower by the lady’s front door and loaded Sanchez into the backseat of the SUV.
“I can handle it from here,” I said to Lula.
“That’s good,” Lula said. “I can continue on then and get my driver’s license and a new purse.”
“The DMV is on the other side of town.”
“I don’t go to the DMV. Nobody does that anymore. I go to Otis Brown in the projects. I don’t have to stand in line and it only costs five bucks.”
“You get a fake driver’s license?”
“Yeah, but it’s a good fake. You can’t tell the difference. And I can put a flattering picture on it. And on top of that he always has a good selection of handbags in the trunk of his car. It’s one-stop shopping.”
