The blond cop Jed had picked up in the cemetery the other day had just leaped out of Chief Hammer's car and was running like hell. Jed slammed on the brakes. A pink azalea bush sailed over the back of the front seat and Ehrhart shrieked. The cymbal went screaming past, flashing in the sun like a runaway gold chariot wheel.
Jed jumped out of the Cadillac without opening the door, neglecting to put the car in park. It began moving forward on its own as Ehrhart fought with streamers of blue ribbons, getting more entangled, and Patty Passman, nearby in the rioting crowd, threw down her Death by Chocolate ice cream cone and pushed people out of the way.
'MOVE, FUCKHEADS!' She shoved and punched, sugar-charged and unstoppable.
She chased the red Cadillac and hurled her fat body over the driver's door, landing with her feet in the air, grabbing the gear shift and jamming it into park.
Smoke was momentarily confused by the commotion. The plan in his head turned to page three and stopped. He looked around and backed up a little, almost slipping on the grass. At first it didn't register that the blond cop he had heard at school, and Weed and a street person were running toward him at top speed.
'EVERYBODY GET DOWN!' the blond cop was yelling.
The crowd started panicking. The cops lost interest in the fat man. They charged toward Smoke, too, the blond cop running the fastest.
'YOU SON OF A BITCH!' the fat man screamed at Smoke.
The picnicking couple dove out of the way as the fat man ran across their red-and-white-checkered tablecloth. Smoke panicked and pulled out the Beretta. In his confusion he forgot how to take the safety off.
People were thundering toward Smoke from all directions, with Weed in the lead, the plume on his black hat straight back as he ran at incredible speed. Smoke dropped the Beretta and groped for his Glock as Weed leaped five feet in the air and punched Smoke in the nose and grabbed his hair, knocking Smoke to the ground. They struggled over the Glock. Smoke let go of it when Weed bit his wrist hard.
'I'M GOING TO KILL YOU, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!' Weed kept yelling as he pummeled Smoke with his fists.
Brazil struggled to handcuff Smoke, who was rolling in the grass and yelling, clips of ammunition falling out of the stolen tool belt around his waist. At this point, community involvement was making matters worse.
Bubba was poised, taking jabs at Smoke whenever Weed left an opening. Pigeon was on the ground, trying to hold Smoke's ankles. Other cops were grabbing at Smoke and getting in Brazil's way. Unfortunately, one of them started squirting pepper spray. Then everyone was rolling on the ground, hands over their eyes, yelling in pain.
Smoke kicked straight up and caught one of the cops in the groin and grabbed the Sig Sauer pistol out of the other cop's holster. Smoke was bloody and breathing hard as he gripped the pistol in both shaking hands, his eyes watering and crazed with rage. He didn't see the two women cutting through the space between the two houses behind him.
Hammer and West had their pistols out and were moving in fast. It seemed Smoke was trying to figure out who to shoot. He wildly pointed the gun at a fat man Hammer recognized as Bubba. Then the gun was pointed at Brazil and the other cops on the ground, then out at the fleeing crowd and participants in the parade.
Hammer didn't have a clear shot because a street person and a little kid in a band uniform were in the way. Drifting pepper spray irritated Hammer's eyes and lungs. She and West split up as Smoke wheeled around, apparently hearing the sound of approaching feet. The barrel of his pistol seemed huge and unreal as he pointed it straight at Hammer's face. She couldn't shoot first. There were too many people in the way.
Hammer hadn't been in a good fight in a while but she hadn't forgotten her training. She hurled her pistol at Smoke as hard as she could, and it sailed and spun like a boomerang, and Smoke involuntarily raised his arms to ward it off, giving Hammer an opportunity to dive at his feet, knocking him down. They struggled over his gun.
'GIVE IT UP!' Hammer demanded.
He tried to point the gun into her ribs and she managed to get a good purchase on one of his thumbs. She bent it straight back, an old and reliable police trick. He howled in pain. She wrested the gun away from him and shoved it hard under his chin.
'MOVE I'LL BLOW YOUR MOTHERFUCKING HEAD OFF!' she yelled at him.
Her finger was on the trigger. She wanted him to give her an excuse.
'You goddamn little bastard,' she said in his face. 'That helpless old woman you murdered was my neighbor.'
Brazil had recovered enough to help West handcuff Smoke and haul him away. Bubba sat up, tears streaming down his cheeks. Pigeon was facedown, still covering his eyes. The sock had come off his stump. Weed was unsteady as he got to his feet. He looked at Chief Hammer with red, watering eyes. She was standing very still, a gun at her side, pointed at the grass.
Thanks,' Weed said to her. 'I sure am glad you're here.'
Chapter Thirty-Six
That night it rained. Water spilled from the sky in waves that reminded Weed of pictures he had seen of oceans. Next, hail was bouncing off streets, the wind pushing so strong, Weed bet it could ring doorbells.
'Who is it?' he whispered in the dark, messing with the powers that be. 'Come in,' he talked to himself. 'Oh 'cuse me, I guess I forgot how to unlock the door.'
Tears filled his eyes, his attempts at being funny not amusing anyone else since no one else was there. Lightning flashed in his barred window and snapped and cracked like popping bubble wrap. Weed imagined a tornado and thought of Twister. Weed had heard he wasn't supposed to walk around with a golf club, play the cymbals or talk on the phone when lightning was flying everywhere, and here he was sitting on a stainless steel bed.
Oh well. Who cared if he was dead.
Somewhere in a different part of the detention home, in what was called a pod, Smoke was locked up, too. The thought of that made Weed feel little bugs all over his skin. He scratched and brushed himself off, his heart bouncing everywhere. He was having difficulty breathing and couldn't seem to get warm. He pulled the covers more tightly around him and thought of his steel bed again when lightning flamed like a big gun.
Chief Hammer hated lightning and usually stayed away from windows and objects that conducted electricity. But she couldn't sit still. She was pacing in her living room before windows and near lamps and iron fireplace tools and beneath the brass chandelier while Brazil and West sat restlessly on her couch, relentlessly replaying the day's events.
'I don't care what anyone says,' Brazil repeated his biggest concern as the power went out. 'Weed shouldn't be in the same facility Smoke's in. Different pods or not. Smoke's already proven how clever, how diabolical he is.'
'Didn't prove it enough to stay out of lockup,' West reminded them. 'But I don't like the situation either.'
'I'm going to tell you right now,' Brazil went on. 'If Smoke wants to do something, he will.'
'Yes, yes, yes,' Hammer said as she moved this way and that while Popeye snored from a wing chair and thunder boomed.
Brazil was worried to the point of taking drastic action, although he wasn't sure what that was. Apparently, Smoke hadn't wanted Divinity, Beeper, Dog and Sick running loose while he was locked up. He had told the police how to find every one of them, and now all of the Pikes were supposedly in different pods in detention, maybe one or two corridors away from where Weed was being held in his single room with its steel toilet and fold-down bed.
'We're going to need Weed to testify against all of them,' Brazil went on.