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We all stopped for a light, and when the light turned the black truck peeled off Hamilton, onto Olden Avenue.
“That’s him. I can see his big bowling-ball head,” Lula said. “He’s going home.”
This wasn’t a good time to run into Trundle, but I didn’t want to throw away a shot at capturing him. It was my job to take him down, but more than that, I didn’t like him. He was a horrible human being. He did bad things to good people. He smashed his truck into my car. And his girlfriend punched me in the face. I wasn’t crazy about her either. I followed him onto Olden, keeping a respectable distance.
“Are you thinking about making an apprehension?” Lula asked. “Should I get my gun out?”
“No gun. Let’s see how it plays.”
“How about if you follow him home, and when he gets out of his truck you run him over?”
It was a pleasant thought but might not go well in court.
He turned onto a side street and when I turned, he put his foot to the floor and raced down the street.
“He spotted you,” Lula said.
Not hard to do with the front of my Cherokee crumpled.
“Keep your eyes on him,” I said. “I’m not doing ninety on this side street.”
“He’s way ahead of you and he turned right again,” Lula said.
I turned right when I reached the corner, but the black truck was nowhere in sight. I continued down the street, I stopped at the cross street, and I was suddenly hit from behind. BAM.
“It’s him!” Lula yelled. “It’s Farcus. He must have gone around the block and come up behind you.”
BAM. He hit me again, bouncing my Cherokee halfway into the intersection.
“That does it,” Lula said. “He knocked Bob off the seat and my pastries all spilled out. I’m going to shoot the sonovabitch.”
“No! Not a good idea!”
Lula was out of her seat belt, turned around, and two-handing her gun. BANG!
Trundle laid rubber with the truck in reverse. He executed a U-turn in the middle of the block and drove away. Bob climbed onto the back seat. Lula put the pastries back into their box and fastened her seat belt. I looked at the bullet hole in my rear window and slowly drove back to Hamilton Avenue.
I parked in front of the bail bonds office, and we all got out and looked at the damage to the back of my Cherokee.
“It’s not so bad,” Lula said. “He hit you straight on. That’s good on account of you can still drive it, being that the wheels weren’t affected. It doesn’t even look like you’re leaking anything. You aren’t going to be able to open the tailgate door, but that’s okay because you got four more you can use.”
“Always look on the bright side,” I said to Lula.
“You bet your ass,” Lula said.
I handed Bob’s leash to Lula. “I have to pick up some cats.”
“Not much of a bright side about that,” Lula said.
I chugged off to the Manley house and parked in the driveway. Mrs. Manley answered the door on the first ring.
“We’re all ready to go,” she said. “I have the other kitties corralled in a bedroom. I didn’t want to take a chance on them escaping when the door was open.”
Iris, Snuggles, Red Cat, and Mr. Meow Meow were in cat carriers stacked up in the foyer.
We each took two carriers and carted them to my Cherokee.
“Oh, my goodness,” Mrs. Manley said. “What happened to your car?”
