NINE

I LEFT THE bonds office, drove to Quakerbridge Mall, and went straight to the food court. I had a photo of Chopper, and I’d become pretty good at spotting drug dealers. Not to mention I had the lucky bottle. So maybe with all those things going for me, I could snag Chopper. I got a cheeseburger and a vanilla shake, and I sat at a table that would allow me to see almost the entire food court area.

According to the photo and file description, Chopper was a Hispanic male, 5′9″ tall, medium build, no piercings or tattoos. A smashed right hand. Forty-five years old. One eyebrow.

I finished my burger and shake, and I sat for a while, trying to look like I was waiting for someone. I got up and walked around a little. I bought a chocolate chip cookie. I sat at a different table. I did another tour of the food court. I walked beyond the food court and looked around. No Chopper. I bought an ice cream cone, and I sat and ate it. Still no Chopper. By seven o’clock I’d had enough of the food court, so I went home and changed into black commando gear. Black jeans, black T-shirt, black sweatshirt.

Lula and Connie were already at the office when I pulled in. Connie was dressed just like me. Lula looked like an ad for S &M clothes for plus-size women. Black leather boots up to her thighs, black stretch skirt that hung two inches below her ass, black Spandex wrap shirt.

“I got my gun, my stun gun, my pepper spray, my flashlight,” Lula said. “And then I got my other gun and a bread knife.”

“I have an Uzi and the stink bombs,” Connie said.

They looked at me.

I had hairspray and a nail file, but it didn’t stack up next to guns and stink bombs. “I have the lucky bottle,” I told them.

“Now you’re talking,” Lula said.

Connie grabbed her purse, and we followed her out of the office.

“I’ve got my brother Tony’s car,” Connie said. “It’s a P.O.S. Explorer, and no one will pay any attention to it sitting on the side of the road.”

Lula got in front with Connie, and I got in back with the box of stink bombs. The adapted for stink bombs rocket launcher was behind me. It was deep dusk when we drove over the bridge to Pennsylvania, and by the time we reached the dirt road, it was black as pitch out. No moon. Overcast sky. Connie pulled off to the shoulder and parked on Lower Buck’s Road just before our turn-off. We all piled out and waited while Connie loaded the rocket launcher up with a stink bomb.

“It’s a big house,” Lula said. “How many of these bombs do you think we gotta fire off?”

“One will probably do it,” Connie said, slinging the Uzi strap over her shoulder. “But we could do an upstairs and a downstairs if we want to be sure of covering the whole house.”

“What’s it smell like?”

“The one I made today smells like a combination of cat pee and diarrhea fart,” Connie said, handing me the box with the extra bombs. “And maybe it has a hint of throw-up.”

We walked about twenty feet down the road and had no idea where we were.

“I don’t know if I’m in the middle of the road or the middle of the forest,” Lula said. “I can’t see nothin’. There’s no light here. There’s… whoops!”

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“No, I’m not okay. I’m on my ass, and I found the edge of the road on account of I’m in a bush. Where the heck are you?”

“Everyone stay still until our eyes adjust,” I said.

“How long’s that take?” Lula wanted to know.

“A couple minutes, I think,” I told her.

“It’s been a couple minutes,” Lula said, “and I’m not adjusted. I think that adjusting is a lot of hooey.”

“Give it a minute more,” I said.

We waited a minute more, but we still couldn’t see.

“I’ll show you adjusting,” Lula said. And she flipped her flashlight on.

So much for the stealth approach.

We followed Lula and her flashlight until we reached the grassy area around the house. Once we were out from under trees, we were at least able to differentiate structure from sky. Light blazed from several windows. A television flickered in a downstairs room. A figure moved from one room to the next. The SUV was still parked by the door.

“We need to get closer,” Connie said. “Someone should run across the lawn and look in the windows.”

“Someone?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Connie said. “You.”

“Why me?”

“It’s your job. I’m the office person, and you’re the sneaking around, chasing down bad guys person.”

“What about Lula? Why can’t Lula be the sneaking around person?”

“Yeah,” Lula said, “what about me? I could sneak your ass off.”

“So let me get this straight,” Connie said to Lula. “You’re the one wants to get thrown under the bus.”

“Since you put it that way, it occurs to me Stephanie has the skill sets needed for this operation,” Lula said.

I did an eye roll that no one could see, because it was too friggin’ dark. I set the box of stink bombs on the ground, laid my purse on it, and I jogged across the lawn to the house. I pushed my way into some big azalea bushes and stood on tiptoe to look in the window. A fifty-something guy was sitting on the couch watching television. He was in his socks, kicked back, with a bag of chips and a beer on the coffee table in front of him. A second guy was slouched in a La-Z-Boy type chair.

I struggled to get out of the azaleas, and I moved around the house, peeking in windows, listening for conversation. I got to the kitchen, and there was a tray on the kitchen counter with some dirty dishes and a can of Coke tipped on its side. There were also a couple dishes, some silverware, and two glasses on the counter by the sink. It could be that someone was served on a tray and two people ate in the kitchen. Not conclusive proof Vinnie was being held in the house, but it was worth considering.

I jogged back to the woods and told Connie and Lula what I’d found.

“I say we rocket a bomb in there and see what comes out,” Lula said.

“Suppose only the guys watching television come out?” I said. “Is someone going in to make sure Vinnie isn’t there?”

“That would be you again,” Lula said, “since you’re so good at finding people.”

“No.” I shook my head. “No, no, no. I already did my thing. Someone else’s turn. I’m not going into a house that smells like cat pee and diarrhea fart.”

“I’d be happy to do it, but I got asthma,” Lula said. “I might have an attack in there. It could kill me.”

We were standing at the edge of the woods arguing, and headlights appeared on the dirt road. The car was traveling at a good speed, coming in from Lower Buck’s Road, almost on top of us before we saw it. We dove for cover, flat on our stomachs, hidden in shadow. The car roared into the circular driveway, stopped in front of the brown-shingle house, and Bang-fired off an object that broke the foyer window. Bang-another shot fired at an upstairs window, and the car spun its wheels and careened out of the driveway, back toward the road. It was a dark-colored SUV. I couldn’t see the plate or the make. We got to our feet and stood in shock for a moment.

“What the heck was that about?” Lula wanted to know.

In a moment, we knew what it was about, because the inside of the house was engulfed in flames, and smoke billowed out the broken foyer window.

“Fire bomb,” Connie said.

We ran to the house to make sure everyone got out, and just as we reached the house, three men ran from the opposite side, jumped into the SUV, and took off. Hard to tell in the dark if one of them was Vinnie, it all happened so fast. There was a small explosion from somewhere inside, windows blew out, and flames shot out the windows and licked up the side of the house.

“We need to get out of here,” Connie said. “We need to get to the car before the police and the fire trucks show up. The police will wonder why a car’s parked there.”