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“No!”
“How about if we both run at it together and put our shoulder to it?”
I hammered on the door. “Open up. Bond enforcement.”
The door got yanked open and Billy Bacon rushed out and knocked Lula and me over like we were bowling pins. He ran past us and thundered down the stairs with a pizza box under his arm. Lula and I scrambled to our feet and took off after him.
I chased him out of the building and caught up with him a half block away. I grabbed the back of his shirt and hung on, but I couldn’t stop him.
“Incoming,” Lula yelled. “Outta my way.”
I released Billy Bacon, jumped to the side, and Lula threw herself at him, knocking him to the ground. He went down face-first with Lula on top of him. He was still holding the pizza box.
I snapped the cuffs on him, and Lula rolled off.
“I skinned my knee,” Billy Ba
con said, sitting up. “Look at what you did. You tore a hole in my pants.”
“Is this here a whole pizza?” Lula asked him.
“Yeah. Ma and me didn’t get to it.”
Lula opened the box and looked inside. “I might need a piece.”
“I won it in a contest,” Billy said. “It was a major award.”
We hoisted Billy Bacon up to his feet and trundled him across the street to the Buick. We buckled him into the backseat, gave him the rest of the donuts, and Lula and I each took a piece of pizza.
“You’re going to get me out of jail again, aren’t you?” Billy asked us.
“As soon as we can,” I told him. “I’ll call Connie and tell her you want to be bonded out.”
“I can’t eat these here donuts with my hands behind my back,” Billy said.
I took a donut out of the box and crammed it into his mouth.
•••
It was almost two o’clock when Lula and I got back to the office. I gave Connie the body receipt certifying that Billy Bacon Brown was in police custody, and Lula gave Connie the last two pieces of pizza.
“Are we going to spring Billy Bacon?” Lula asked.
“If the court sets bail,” Connie said. “And if he can come up with something as security. Vinnie was already downtown, so he said he’d look in on him.”
“He’s not such a bad person,” Lula said. “He’s just not smart.”
“Gotta go,” I said. “Things to do.”
“Like what?” Lula asked.
“Things,” I told her. “Email, laundry, thinking.”
“I’d help you out with all that,” Lula said, “but I gotta finish reading my Star magazine. I gotta see what’s happening with the Bieber.”
I left the office and chugged off in my Buick. I parked in my apartment building lot, took the stairs to the second floor, and stopped in front of my door. There was an FTD flower arrangement sitting there. I carted the flowers inside and read the card.
Happy Birthday. Sorry I couldn’t be here to celebrate it with you. Kenny.
