Chapter Four
Heat waves danced across the hospital’s parking lot. Beads of sweat dotted my skin and all I wanted was a big glass of iced tea. “Did any of the other packages contain bombs, Mom?”
Mom came to an abrupt stop and pointed. “What is that fool doing?”
I turned my head to see what she was talking about and my jaw dropped.
Cursing loudly, a big dude wearing a rumpled black business suit kicked the crap out of a yellow Ford. A geyser of steam rose from the engine compartment.
“His temper tantrum is gonna cost him big time,” Julie commented.
I watched him for a moment. “Think the heat got to him?”
“Well, wearing a black wool suit in this heat is beyond stupid,” Mom said.
Julie snorted. “I’ll say and what’s up with his funky sandals?”
The white lace-up Roman sandals should be worn at costume parties not with a business suit. “I bet he’s single. A wife wouldn’t let him leave the house dressed like that.”
“Depends on how big of a jerk he is. It’s the perfect payback,” Mom said.
The big dude climbed up on the hood and jumped up and down. The metal crumpled under the blows. “Worthless piece of crap! You belong in the junk yard!”
My eyebrows rose. “He’s about five minutes away from heat stroke.”
“Yep. We’d better stop him before he does something really dumb,” Mom said.
The man jerked out a Desert Eagle pistol and fired multiple rounds into the engine block. “Join that bitch in hell!”
“That just cost him a good forty thousand, and some jail time,” Julie growled.
I pulled my Glock and yelled, “Sheriff’s Office! Stop shooting!” Did he stop? Hell, no.
Using her mean mother voice, Mom shouted, “Drop your weapon! Now!”
The man didn’t even look at us. “Go away! I still have bullets left.”
“Do you want to die?” Julie yelled.
The man blinked. “What? This is my car. I have a right to shoot it.”
“You can’t discharge a firearm within the city limits. Now drop your gun, and get your hands up,” I commanded.
Six shotguns were racked. “You heard the deputies, put the Desert Eagle down or we’ll shoot your ass!” Sergeant Durham bellowed.
The color drained from the dude’s face when he saw all the guns pointed at him. The pistol fell from his nerveless fingers, and he raised his hands. “Don’t shoot me. Don’t shoot me!”
Smoke boiled from the hood. With a yelp, the idiot leapt off his car and was immediately tackled by two Peoria officers.
The Ford burst into flames.
“Oh, hell.” I keyed my mic, “Charlie-23 to dispatch, we need the fire department for a car fire in the north parking lot of my location.”
“Copy Charlie-23.”
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bullets whizzed wildly in all directions, shattering windshields and blowing out windows.
Julie, Mom and I took cover behind a car. “Those bullets are coming from his car, and the idiot has some ’splaining to do,” I snapped.
“We should have kept walking,” Julie grumbled. “Now they’ll blame us for this too.”
“What the hell is in your car?” Sergeant Durham demanded.
“Bullets! I just picked up a box from Dillion’s Guns,” the dude cried.
Kaboom! The car blew into a thousand pieces and flaming debris rained down on the parking lot.
Thick black smoke billowed from the cremated remains.
Dozens of car alarms sounded.
Trees caught fire.
A burning tire ricocheted off a stop sign and smacked into an officer, knocking him flat.
Jerry and Eddie bailed out of their ambulance and dragged him to safety.
“What in the hell was in that idiot’s trunk?” Mom grumbled.
Julie made a face. “A gas can or two.?”
A fire truck rolled up and the firemen quickly got the inferno under control.
A Peoria officer stuffed the crazy dude in the backseat of his patrol car.
“I didn’t know this would happen. I didn’t know this would happen,” the dude cried.
“You’re damn lucky no one was seriously hurt.” The Peoria officer shut the car door on his protests.
Mom’s cell phone rang. “It’s your father and I bet he’s on a tear.” She let it ring several more times before swiping right. “Hello. What? No. We’re fine. Some moron shot up his car and it kinda got out of hand. Peoria PD and the Glendale SWAT team are handling the situation.” Mom frowned. “No, I don’t think it’s related to your current case. Uh huh. Okay, we’re heading home.” Mom disconnected. “I need some chocolate.”
“Me too. Let’s hit Cerreta’s. I could really use some French Mints,” I said.
Julie smiled. “Excellent idea.”
Sergeant Durham walked up and gave each of us a business card with a report number on the back. “I’ll need your supplemental reports by tomorrow.”
We nodded.
An officer shouted, “Sarge! The fire department found a body in the trunk!”
“What the hell?” Giving us the stink eye, Sergeant Durham jogged over to the burnt-out remains of the car.
“A criminal master mind, he’s not.” Julie said dryly.
I grimaced. “Nope, and if you’ve just killed someone having a public meltdown is beyond stupid.”
“Let’s get the hell out of Dodge, before they try to give you this clusterfuck,” Mom said and practically ran to her truck.
Julie and I exchanged horrified looks and chased after Mom. The minute our butts hit the seats; Mom gunned it.
I glanced out the back window. Sergeant Durham watched us for a moment, then pulled out his phone. “God, I hope he’s not calling Sergeant Bergman about this clusterfuck.”
“If he does, Sergeant Bergman will put us on trash pickup detail for sure,” Julie said.
Mom smiled. “Relax girls, you’re on sick leave.”
“True and we did help collar a murderer,” Julie said.
My cell phone rang. I glanced at the caller ID. It was Dante. I swiped right and babbled, “We’re fine. Doc Halliday released us and we’re on sick leave for the next five days. I don’t know if you’ve heard but there was a shooting in the north parking lot. A car kinda blew up. The fire department found a body in the trunk, but relax, Glendale PD is taking jurisdiction.” There was dead silence. “Dante? Dante? Hello? Oh! Sergeant Durham is on your other phone. Okay. Talk to you later.” I quickly disconnected.
“How did he take it?” Julie wanted to know.
I shrugged. “Not sure. He was using his cop voice.”
“Give him a blow job. Works every time on your dad,” Mom said.
“TMI, Mom. TMI.”