Ten Big Ones

  'Who, me?'

  If they catch you taking a concealed weapon into the building they'll lock you up and throw the key away.'

  'How would they know I got a concealed weapon if it's concealed? They better not search me. I'm an old lady. I got certain rights.'

  'Carrying a concealed weapon isn't one of them.'

  Grandma pulled the gun out of her purse and shoved it under her seat. 'I don't know what this country's coming to when an old lady can't keep a gun in her purse. We got a rule for everything these days. What about the bill of health? It says I can bear arms!'

  'That's the Bill of Rights, and I don't think it specifically addresses guns in purses.' I locked the Buick and called Joe on my cell. 'I'm across the street,' I told him. 'And I've got Grandma with me.'

  'She isn't armed, is she?'

  'Not anymore.'

  I could feel Joe smile across the phone line. `I'll meet you downstairs.'

  Civilian traffic in the building was minimal at this time of day.

  The courts were closed, and police business was shifting from front-door inquiries to back-door arrests. A lone cop sat in a bulletproof cage at the end of the hall, struggling to stay awake on his shift.

  Morelli stepped out of the elevator just as Grandma and I swung through the front-entrance doors.

  Grandma looked at Morelli and gave a snort. 'He's wearing a gun,' she said.

  'He's a cop.'

  'Maybe I should be a cop,' Grandma said. 'Do you think I'm too short?'

  Thirty minutes later, Grandma and I were back in the Buick.

  'That didn't take long,' Grandma said. 'I hardly had a chance to look around.'

  'I couldn't make an ID. They picked up a guy who was carrying the backpack, but it wasn't the guy who ran out of the store. He said he found the backpack discarded in an alley.'

  'Bummer. This doesn't mean we're going to have to go back to the house, does it? I can't take any more of the galloping and the baby talk.'

  'Valerie talks baby talk to the baby?'

  'No, she talks it to Kloughn. I don't like to make judgments on people, but after a couple hours of listening to “honey pie smoochie bear cuddle umpkins” I'm ready to smack someone.'

  Okay, so I was glad I'd never been there when Valerie called

  Kloughn cuddle umpkins because I would have wanted to smack someone, too. And my self-restraint isn't as well honed as

  Grandma's.

  'It's too early to go to the viewing,' I said to Grandma. 'I guess I could stop in on Sally Sweet. He turned up Failure To Appear today on an assault charge.'

  'No kidding? I remember him. He was a nice young man.

  Sometimes he was a nice young woman. He had a plaid skirt I always admired.'

  I pulled out of the lot, right-turned onto North Clinton, and followed the road for almost a quarter mile. At one time in

  Trenton's history this was a thriving industrial area. The industry had all vacated or drastically downsized and the rotting carcasses of factories and warehouses produced an ambience similar to what you might find in postwar Bosnia.

  I left Clinton and wove my way through a neighborhood of small bleak single-story row houses. Originally designed to contain the factory workers, the row houses were now occupied by hardworking people who lived one step above welfare... plus there were a few oddballs like Sally Sweet.

  I found Fenton and parked in front of Sweets house. 'Wait in the car until I find out what's going on,' I said to Grandma.

  'Sure,' Grandma said, her hands gripping her purse in excited anticipation, her eyes glued to Sweet's front door. The Buick was a car designed for a man, and Grandma seemed swallowed up by the monster. Her feet barely touched the floor, her face was barely visible over the dash. A timid woman might feel overwhelmed by

  Big Blue. Grandma was a little shrunken, but she wasn't timid, and there wasn't a whole lot that overwhelmed Grandma. Thirty seconds after Grandma agreed to wait in the car, she was on the sidewalk, following me to Sweets front door.

  1 thought you were going to wait in the car?' I said.

  'I changed my mind. I thought you might need help.'

  'Okay, but let me do the talking. I don't want to alarm him.'

  'Sure,' Grandma said.

  I knocked on Sweets front door, and the door opened on the third knock. Sally Sweet looked out at me, recognition kicked in, and his face creased into a grin. 'Long time no see,' he said. 'What brings you to my casa?'

  'We're here to drag your behind back to jail,' Grandma said.

  'Fuck,' Sally said. And he slammed the door shut.

  'What was that?' I asked Grandma.

  'I don't know. It just popped out.'

  I gave another rap on the door, 'Open the door,' I said. 'I just want to talk to you.'

  Sally cracked the door and peeked at me. 'I can't go to jail. I'll lose my job.'

  'Maybe I can help.'

  The door opened wide, Sally stepped to the side to allow us entry, and I gave Grandma a warning glare.

  'My mouth is zipped,' she said, making a zipping gesture. 'And look, I'm locking the zipper and throwing away the key. See me throw away the key?'

  Sally and I stared at Grandma.

  'Mmmmf, mmmf, mmf,' Grandma said.

  'So what's new?' I asked Sally.

  'I get band gigs on weekends,' he said. 'Weekdays I drive a school bus. It's not like the glory days when I was with the Lovelies, but it's pretty cool.'

  'What's with the assault charge?'

  'It's bogus, man. I was having a discussion with this dude and all of a sudden he started coming on to me. And I was “Hey, man, that's not where I live,” you know. I mean, okay, so I was wearing a dress, but that's my professional persona. Wearing a dress is my thing. It's my trademark now. Sure, I was playing support for a rap group, but people still expect me to be in a pretty dress. I'm Sally

  Sweet, you know? I got a reputation.'

  'I could see where it might be confusing,' Grandma said.

  I was trying hard not to look appalled. 'So you hit him?'

  'Only once... with my guitar. Knocked him on his keister.'

  'Holy cow,' I said. 'Was he hurt bad?'

  'No. But I broke his glasses. The guy was such a pussy. He started it all, and then he reported it to the police. He said I hit him for no reason. Called me a drugged-out guitar player.'

  'Were you drugged out?'

  'No way. Sure, I smoke weed between sets, but everybody knows weed doesn't count as drugs if you're a guitar player. And I'm real careful. I buy organic. I only do natural drugs, you know. It's okay if they're natural. Natural weed, natural 'shrooms..."

  'I didn't know that,' Grandma said.

  'It's a fact,' Sally told her. 'I think it might even be union rules that guitar players have to do weed between sets.'

  'That makes sense,' Grandma said.

  'Yeah,' I said, 'That would explain a lot.'

  Sally was out of costume, wearing jeans and ratty sneakers and a faded Black Sabbath T-shirt. He was over six feet tall in flats and close to seven in heels. He had a large hook nose, and he had a lot of black hair... everywhere. He was an okay guy, but he was without a shadow of a doubt the ugliest drag queen in the tristate area. I couldn't imagine any man in his right mind coming on to

  Sally.

  'Why didn't you show up for your court date?' I asked Sally.

  'I had to drive the little dudes. It was a school day. I take this job very seriously.'

  'And you forgot?'

  'Yeah,' he said. 'I fucking forgot.' He closed his eyes and smacked his head with the heel of his hand. 'Darn.' He was wearing a thick elastic band around his left wrist. He snapped the elastic against his wrist and yelped. 'Ow!'

  Grandma and I both did raised eyebrows.

  `I'm trying to quit cussing,' Sally said. 'The little dudes were getting detention for talking trash mouth after getting off my bus.

  So my boss gave me this elastic band, and I have to snap it every t
ime I cuss.'

  I looked down at his wrist. It was solid red welts. 'Maybe you should think about getting a different job.'

  'No fucking way. Oh shit! Damn.'

  Snap, snap, snap.

  'That's gotta hurt,' Grandma said.

  'Yeah, it hurts like a bitch,' Sally said.

  Snap.

  If I brought Sally in now he'd have to overnight and wait for the courts to open before Vinnie could bond him out again. He didn't look like much of a threat to flee, so I decided to give him a break and bring him in during business hours. 'I have to get you rebonded,' I said to Sally. 'We can arrange a time between bus runs.'

  'Wow, that would be awesome. I always have a couple hours off in the middle of the day.'

  Grandma looked at her watch. 'We better get a move on if we want to get to the funeral home on time.'

  'Hey, rock on,' Sally said. 'Who's laid out?'

  'Lorraine Schnagle. I went earlier today but they had the lid down on the casket.'

  Sally made a sympathetic sound. Tsk. 'Don't you hate that?'

  'Drives me nuts,' Grandma said. 'So I'm going back, hoping the lid will be up for the night viewing.'

  Sally had his hands in his pockets, and he was nodding his head like a bobble-head doll. 'I hear you. Give my best to Lorraine.'

  Grandmas face lit. 'Maybe you want to come with us. Even with the lid down it should be a good viewing. Lorraine was real popular. The place will be packed. And Stiva always puts out cookies.'

  1 could do that,' Sally said, still bobbing. 'Just give me a second to get more dressed up.'

  Sally disappeared into the bedroom, and I made a deal with God that I'd try to be a nicer person if only Sally didn't return in sling-back heels and a gown.

  When Sally reappeared he was still wearing the faded T-shirt, jeans, and ratty sneakers but he'd added dangly rhinestone earrings and a vintage tuxedo jacket. I felt like God hadn't totally come through for me, but I was willing to take a shot at honoring the deal anyway.

  We all piled into the Buick and headed across town to Stiva's.

  `I'm hungry,' Grandma said. 'I wouldn't mind having a burger.

  We haven't got a lot of time, though, so maybe we could do a drive-by.'

  A quarter mile later I swung into the drive-thru lane of a

  McDonald's and ordered a bag of food. A Big Mac, fries, and a chocolate shake for Grandma. Cheeseburger and Coke for me. A chicken Caesar salad and Diet Coke for Sally.

  'I have to watch my weight,' Sally said. 'I have this to-die-for red gown, and I'd be pissed if I fucking grew out of it.' He grimaced.

  'Oh shit.' Snap, snap, snap.

  'Maybe you should try not to talk,' Grandma said, 'You're gonna give yourself a blood clot with all that snapping.'

  I handed the bag of food over to Grandma for distribution and pulled forward. A guy dressed out in a black do-rag, homeboy jeans, new basketball shoes, and a lot of gold jewelry that flashed in the overhead streetlight exited the McDonald's and headed for a car with a high bling rating. It was a brand-new black Lincoln Navigator with gleaming chrome wheel covers and black tinted windows. I rolled closer to get a better look and confirmed my suspicion. It was Red Devil. He was carrying a huge bag of food plus a drink holder with four cups.

  Now I know the Red Devil's held up fourteen deli-marts, and I personally saw him toss a flaming Molotov cocktail into a store. So on the one hand, I had to think that this was a bad guy. Problem was, it was hard to take someone seriously when he was going around doing his robbing wearing a cheap rubber mask, riding on a mountain bike.

  'Hey!' I shouted at him. 'Wait a minute. I want to talk to you.'

  When I got close enough to talk, I was going to reach out and choke him until he turned blue. I didn't care all that much about his deli-mart robbing career, but I was really unhappy about my yellow Escape.

  He stopped and stared at me and suddenly placed me. 'You!' he said. 'You're one of the dumb bitches who trashed my bike.'

  'You're calling me dumb?' I yelled back at him. 'You're the one going around robbing stores dressed up in a stupid mask, riding a lad's bike. I bet you're too dumb to get a driver's license.'

  'Dumb bitch,' he said again. 'Dumb punk-ass bitch.'

  The passenger side door opened on the Navigator, and I could hear guys laughing inside the car. Red Devil got in, slammed the door shut, and the car came to life.

  I was itching to jump out of the Buick, run over to the SUV, wrench the door open, and drag the devil guy out of the car. Since, by my cup tally, there most likely were at least three other people in the Lincoln, and they might all have guns, and they might be cranky about me ruining their dinner, I decided to go with the more conservative plan of getting the license plate number and following at a respectful distance.

  'Was that the devil bandit?' Grandma wanted to know. I

  'Yes.'

  Grandma sucked in some air. 'Let's get him! Ram him from behind, and then when he stops we'll drag him out of the car.'

  'I can't do that. I have no authority to capture him.'

  'Okay, so we don't capture him. How about we just kick him a couple times after we get him out of the car?'

  That would be assault,' Sally said. 'And it turns out it's illegal.'

  I hit the speed dial for Morelli's number on my cell phone.

  'Is this about the Japanese triplets?' Morelli wanted to know.

  'No, It's about Red Devil. I'm in the Buick with Grandma and

  Sally Sweet, and I'm following the devil guy. We're on State, heading south. I just passed Olden. He's in a new black Lincoln

  Navigator.'

  `I'll put it out. Don't approach him.'

  'No problemo.' I gave Morelli the license number and put my phone on the seat, next to my leg. I followed the SUV for three blocks and saw a blue-and-white come up behind me. I pulled to the side, the blue-and-white sped past and put his lights on.

  Grandma and Sally were mouths open, eyes glued to the cop car in front of me.

  Thai guy in the SUV isn't stopping,' Grandma said.

  The SUV ran a light and we all followed. I knew the cop in front of me. It was Eddie Gazarra, riding alone. He was a likeable blond-haired

  Polish chunk. And he was married to my cousin Shirley-the-Whiner.

  He was probably looking in his rear-view mirror, wishing

  I'd go away.

  The SUV suddenly made a right turn and then a quick left.

  Eddie stuck to his bumper, and I struggled to stay with Eddie, using my whole body to help muscle the Buick around corners. I was sweating from the exertion. Probably some of the sweat was from fear. I was at the brink of losing control of the car. And I was worried about Gazarra, all by himself, in front of me.

  My cell was still on, still connected to Morelli. 'We're chasing these guys,' I yelled down at the phone, giving Morelli cross streets, telling him Gazarra was in front of me.

  'We?' Morelli yelled back. 'There's no we. This is a police chase.

  Go home.'

  Sally had himself braced in the back seat, his rhinestone earrings reflecting in my rear-view mirror. 'He could be right, you know. Maybe we should split.' 'Don't listen to him,' Grandma said, her blue-veined, bony hands gripping the shoulder strap. 'Keep the pedal to the metal!

  You could be a little careful on the turns, though.' she added. 'I'm an old lady. My neck could snap like a twig if you whip around a corner too fast.'

  Not much chance of taking a corner that fast in the Buick.

  Motoring the Buick around was like steering a cruise ship.

  Without warning, the SUV went into a turn in the middle of the road and skidded to a stop. Eddie laid some rubber and pulled up a couple car lengths from the SUV. I two-footed the brake pedal and stopped about a foot from Eddie's back bumper.

  The rear side window slid down on the SUV, and there was a flash of rapid gunfire from inside the car. Grandma and Sally hit the floor, but I was too stunned to move. The blue-and-white's windshi
eld crumbled, and I saw Eddie jerk to the side and slump.

  'I think Eddie's shot!' I yelled at my phone.

  Tuck,' Sally said from the back seat. Snap.

  The SUV took off, wheels spinning, and was out of sight within seconds. I shoved my door open and ran to check on Gazarra. He was hit twice. A bullet had grazed the side of his head. And he had a shoulder wound.