“You shot at me,” Lula said.
“You disturbed me when I was in my home.”
“I guess that’s true,” Lula said. “I wasn’t thinking about it like that.”
Another motorized shopper buzzed up to us. “What’s going on?” she wanted to know. “Is this a mugging? We got rights to be in these things. I got a handicap sticker on my car and everything.”
“Oh yeah?” Lula said. “What’s wrong with you?”
“None of your beeswax,” the old lady said.
“I bet you’re fibbing,” Lula said. “I bet you don’t got no sticker. I bet you’re a big liar.”
“Go get the car and bring it around to the door,” I said to Lula. “I don’t want to drag this guy any further than is necessary.”
“You and who else?” he said.
And that was when I juiced him with the stun gun. He sort of slumped in his seat, and Lula took off.
“It’s okay,” I said to the people gathering around. “He’s my brother. This happens all the time. He just needs to take a nap. He’ll be fine.”
I could have said I was a fugitive apprehension agent, but that always freaks people out. The store rent-?a-?cops muscle in, and the police are called, and then I have to drag out all my paperwork. Better to lie and make a fast getaway.
“He pissed his pants,” an old guy looking on said. “What’s the matter with him?”
“War injury,” I said. “You should stand back. He could get violent when he comes around.”
I grabbed two bags of Halloween candy from a display by the register and gave the checker a ten-?dollar bill. I got my change, snagged Guzzi by the front of his jacket, and wrestled him out of the cart. He was sort of floppy and twitchy, but I managed to back my way out of the store entrance with him in tow. Lula skidded to a stop in front of me and jumped out to help me get Guzzi into the backseat. I cuffed him, thanked Lula, and drove my catch to the police station.
I off-?loaded Guzzi at the back door to the station and dragged his uncooperative body all the way to the docket lieutenant. I turned him over and my phone rang.
“Where are my pumpkins?” Anthony wanted to know.
“Keep your shirt on. I’ve got them.”
“And the M&Ms?”
Dammit, I forgot about the M&Ms.
“It’s almost lunchtime,” Anthony said. “Maybe you could get me a sub from Pino’s.”
Maybe I could add poison to the sub, shoot you with a real gun, and throw you into the Delaware River, I thought. Ok
ay, Stephanie, take a deep breath. Remember, his butt got nailed, and it’s partly your fault.
“Sure,” I said. “I’ll get you a sub.”
I got my body receipt for Guzzi and ran to my car. I checked my watch. I had a half hour to get the sub and M&Ms, drop everything off at Morelli’s house, and get back to my apartment.
I pulled up to Morelli’s house and my phone rang.
“Mrs. Ardenowski saw you at Shop and Bag, and she said you were abusing a handicapped man,” my mother said.
“He wasn’t handicapped. He shot himself in the foot while he was robbing a store.”
“Mrs. Ardenowski said he was in one of those motorized shopping carts.”
“Yeah, because he shot himself in the foot.”