“These cars must belong to the birthday party ladies,” Lula said. “And we know we’re at the right place because there’s a Happy Birthday balloon attached to the mailbox.”
“Give me ten to fifteen minutes,” Krick said. “This is an easy gig.”
Lula and I watched him walk to the door, ring the bell, and get let in by a smiling sixty-something woman. Fifteen minutes later, we were still waiting.
“I’m going in if he’s not out in five minutes,” I said to Lula.
“They might have kidnapped him,” Lula said. “I understand that these older women can get aggressive. They might not have seen a really nice behind in a while and got carried away.”
“I think it’s more likely that he skipped out the back door and called Uber to come pick him up.”
“That would be disappointing,” Lula said.
After four minutes I got out of the car, went to the door, and rang the bell. The same smiling woman answered.
“I’m looking for the mooner,” I said.
“He left about ten minutes ago,” she said. “He was fun. He’s an excellent mooner.”
I returned to my car and drove around the block. “Keep your eyes open,” I said to Lula.
“I don’t see him,” she said. “Keep driving.”
I turned a corner and Lula leaned forward. “There he is!” she said. “He’s standing on the next corner. I bet he’s waiting for someone to pick him up. Drive closer and I’ll jump out and cuff him.”
I stopped directly in front of Krick, Lula jumped out, waving her handcuffs, and Krick took off.
Lula was wearing five-inch spike-heeled pumps and a red spandex dress that barely covered her hoo-ha. She was running flat-out, knees up, and she was screaming out cuss words at Krick. Krick cut between two houses, and I sped around the block, hoping to cut him off. I screeched to a stop, got out of my car, and looked around. No Krick. Lula ran up, gasping for breath.
“What the fork!” Lula said, tugging her dress down over her ass. “Where did he go? I lost him when I had to get over the fence.”
We listened for footsteps.
“I only hear traffic,” Lula said.
“He’s here. He’s hiding.”
“There are a lot of bushes behind this house,” Lula said. “He has to be in the bushes.”
Lula and I walked toward the back of the house and pushed through a gate to a fenced-in yard that was bordered with overgrown hedges and shrubs. Lula pointed to a small shed near the back door. There were a couple of trash cans by the shed, plus a clump of ugly bushes, a kid’s Big Wheel bike, and a scooter.
Lula advanced to the shed, and when she was four feet away, Krick jumped out and trained a hose on her. Lula freaked out, tripped on the scooter, and went down. I fought my way through the water spray and tackled Krick. We were locked together, rolling around on the ground with water shooting out everywhere. Lula pounced on us and pinned Krick long enough for me to cuff him. I shut the water off and yanked Krick to his feet.
“What the heck were you thinking?” Lula said to Krick.
“I was thinking I didn’t want to go to jail,” Krick said.
“We would have bonded you out again,” Lula said. “And it’s not like you even committed a real crime. You aren’t going to get sent up the river for ten years because you dropped your drawers. And even if you do get a couple days, it’s not a big deal. Martha Stewart did time, and she came out looking real good. Now there’s a woman I admire. She knows how to accessorize, and she has excellent advice on home goods. Her laundry basket recommendations are all quality items.”
“I guess I panicked,” Krick said.
I marched Krick out of the yard to my car and settled him into the backseat. Lula and I were soaking wet and caked with mud.
Lula put her hand to her head. “What about my hair?” she said. “Do I have Sandra Bullock hair?”
“You never had Sandra Bullock hair. You look like someone with brown hair who got drenched and almost drowned.”
“That’s probably not a good look,” Lula said. “I’m thinking I’m done for the day.”
“Yep. Me, too. We’ll drop Krick off at the cop shop and go back to the office so you can get your car.”
CHAPTER FIVE
I didn’t see any sign of Diesel when I returned to my apartment. This was turning out to be a good day. I’d made a capture and Diesel had obviously found another place to live. I tossed my wet clothes into my laundry basket. Martha Stewart hadn’t personally recommended the basket to me, but it was cheap and plastic, so it met my needs.