Aftermath
an excerpt

One

The remnant of the happy birthday balloon fluttered around the room until it came to rest on the bald head of the late Jashu Magli, who had refused to open his cash register. The shotgun blast still echoed through Magli’s Corner Grocery. The weapon’s pellets deflated nine of those balloons, perforated an entire display of candy bars and one of the bullets opened a hole in the store owner’s chest. Pieces of litter rained down as I huddled in front a pyramid of Coors Lite cases, with two other customers, waiting for the next action from the goateed shooter. The smell of ammonia overpowered my nostrils as a river of Windex flowed toward us.
“Nobody move.” As if we were so inclined. “I told you to just open the damn box. Why didn’t you?” The gunman, a heavyset Hispanic man wearing a checkered do-rag, peered down at Magli as if he would answer. “Stupid jerk! Stupid jerk! Now look what you made me do?”
An elderly lady next to me sucked in a breath and then exhaled loudly. The shooter swung his body and the shotgun toward us as I slowly slid my arm around her shoulders. I briefly wondered why she wasn’t shaking.
He screamed, “Quiet.”
“Hey, mister, she’s just scared like the rest of us.” Last thing I wanted to do was to draw attention to us, but I didn’t want him to shoot indiscriminately.
“Who do you think you are?” Still yelling.
“Mike Shepherd.”
“Well, Mike Shepherd, keep your granny quiet or she’s next.”
“She’s not my grandma and don’t worry. We aren’t going to interfere.”
The man grunted and edged around the end of the counter, gingerly stepping over Mr. Magli. He stabbed 2 buttons before the cash drawer opened. Grabbing the bills from inside, he glanced at his audience, then back at his booty. He eyed the few bills and scowled. “Forty-two bucks? He made me shoot him for forty-two bucks? What an idiot.”
“It might be best to clear out before the cops come.” I know, I was pushing it. But I just wanted him to go.
“Got a smart mouth, do we?” I didn’t like the way the shotgun barrel was pointing at my favorite shirt.
“No sir. Just want to get out of this alive.”
“Now, all of you. I want cash. Put it on the counter in front of me. And hurry up.” The man backed up to the shelves behind the cash register. I helped up the woman while a middle-aged man, emptied his pocket on the counter. I gave up $55 and the woman – not my grandmother - pulled some crumpled bills from her purse. The gunman smiled at the frail looking woman
“That’s better. Couple a hundred bucks or more. You folks just stay put and don’t move.” He stepped over Mr. Magli again and headed for the door. As he tried to pass the woman, she slumped down in an apparent faint and he instinctively caught her with his free hand. The shotgun was now pointed to the floor and the woman stood straight up catching the gunman flush on the under side of his chin. Everyone heard the clatter of the weapon crashing to the floor and his teeth crunching together at the same time. With surprising speed the old lady gave him a jolt from the taser she had taken from her purse when she got out her money.
She picked up the gun, looked at me through cockeyed bifocals and broke into a broad smile. “That’s the second time my Karate class has come in handy. I’m a brown belt, you know.”
That was only the start of a rotten week.

Two

Hattie McDonald, a 56 year-old-bail bondwoman scratched a head full of gray hair and spit a nasty looking brown wad into her wastebasket. She often pointed out how proud she was of being able to quit smoking in favor of chewing. Her ponytail swung back and forth as she studied separate documents on her desk. A big green rubber band held the flyaway hair in place.
“I think we can get this one, Mike. He’s been spotted in Glen Ellyn more than once this week. There’s a thousand bucks in it for you. Name’s Elton Borland and he’s wanted for some minor things.”
My radar became active. When Hattie says minor things, I get nervous. “What kind of things?”
“AWDW. Assault with a deadly weapon. Oh, but it wasn’t a gun. Just a knife. And he’s only violated his parole twice.”
“Can I see the report?’
“Sure.”
She handed me the papers.
“Just a knife? Hattie, it says here it was more like a machete. A fourteen-inch blade. And he’s six foot five and two seventy? Come on, only a thousand?” The odds did not favor me when I give away sixty pounds and three inches in height.
“Sorry, Mike. I got expenses you know. It also says there that he’s a religious man.”
This was Tuesday, the day after being almost shot by a mad Puerto Rican. The police had kept my $55 as evidence, so I needed the money.
“You win. I’ll go get him. I hope God told him to be nice today.” She smiled and her gold front tooth blinked at me in the sunlight streaming through Hattie’s window on Front Street in Wheaton, Illinois.
I do business with Hattie when I run low on funds. So, I do a lot of business with her. My least favorite part of being a PI is situations like these. I don’t know what I’m getting myself into and it’s usually not much fun. Folks don’t like being captured. Go figure.
I try to use my brain rather than brawn. That’s because I hate violence, especially when it’s directed at me. I carry a weapon but I will use it only in a dire emergency. The older I get, the more lenient I am with my definition of emergency.
I decided to try the brain thing and stopped at a bookstore on my way. Hattie’d said Elton lived with his mother in Glen Ellyn, so I thought I’d try there first.
The two-story house with sagging vinyl siding looked deserted as I pulled up in the driveway. A rusting chain link fence surrounded the small yard. I approached the gate and let myself in. It squeaked and shuddered as I closed it behind me. I was halfway to the front steps when a blur of white grabbed a pant leg and tried to drag me to the back yard. A small terrier with a black patch on its side then began to gnaw on my ankle.
“Nice dogie. No! Sit!” I wasn’t getting anywhere. Just before I declared an emergency someone called the attacker.
“Angel. Here, girl.” A huge man, matching the description of Elton, stood on the porch and beckoned to the dog. Thankfully, the mutt stopped and trotted proudly toward the house. She had done her job. I checked that my jeans and my leg were still in one piece.
“Hello, sir. How are you today? I hope I didn’t frighten Angel. I’m sorry”
“Whatdoyawant?” No smile. Unless you want to count the inny-belly button peeking out under a too-small Grateful Dead T-shirt.
“I have a gift for you, sir. If I might come up on the porch.”
“What kind a gift?”
I held up my package from the bookstore. “It’s a Bible.”
“A Bible? Why you giving me a Bible?”
“We are trying out a new product and we’re authorized to give free samples to selected individuals. Your address was chosen by computer.”
“That’s it? No strings?”
Okay, a little smile was forming.
“That’s it. No strings. I just have to have you sign a release and the new, revised, easy to read, Bible is yours to keep. We’d like to come back, in say a couple of months, and ask how you like it. Would that be all right?”
He nodded and his Cub’s baseball cap lurched forward. “Come on up. Angel will behave if I tell her. I never got anything for free before.”
“Yes, sir. Your lucky day, Mr…ah?”
“Call me Elton.”
I followed Elton into the house. The smell of grilled onions and hot grease wafted in from the kitchen. I noticed the sink piled with dishes, pots and utensils. Stacks of newspapers and junk mail were scattered throughout the front room. Elton swept a bit of debris off of a coffee table in front of a sagging couch. It sagged even more when Elton plopped down on one end.
I placed the Bible on the table and Elton reached for it.
I held up my hand. “Ah, ah. Just a minute, Mr. Elton. We have to sign a paper first, then you get your gift.”
“Sorry, I forgot. Gimme the paper.”
I had hidden my handcuffs under the Bible and they were now under the paper I handed Elton. As he extended his hand I clicked one end of the cuffs on his wrist and jerked hard on his arm. He came off the couch and sprawled across the coffee table. It collapsed and he went face down on the floor.
Everything would have been fine if it hadn’t been for the stupid dog. As I grabbed Elton’s free hand a 15-pound hair ball bit into my neck. I reached back for the mutt and tossed her to the side. She immediately rushed at me again. By this time Elton had recovered enough to get to his knees.
Angel, bless her heart, dove for my crotch. I was able to turn just in time to avoid losing anything important, but Elton punched me in the back, right at my liver. If you’ve never been hit there thank your lucky stars. Elton was now royally pissed. We circled each other and I tried to keep the dog from doing any more damage. The big man grunted in rage.
The terrier latched onto my leg while I desperately tried to keep my balance. Both Elton and I were slipping and sliding on all the papers and junk littering the floor. Elton reared back to deliver a hay maker at me. I picked up Angel by the neck and threw her into Elton’s face. The dog was in such a frenzy she didn’t realize it was Elton when she bit into his nose.
Blood gushed out and Elton’s momentum forced him onto his back. I took the opportunity to stomp on his stomach. Twice. As he gasped for breath, I turned him over and finished handcuffing him.
“Elton, I’m making a citizen’s arrest on the authority of the City of Wheaton.” I helped him up and picked up my Bible. Fortunately Angel was more concerned with the small pool of blood from Elton’s nose and made no more attacks.
We stumbled out the front door and headed for my car.
“Does this mean I don’t get a free Bible?” Poor Elton, he wouldn’t ever get it. I gave him some Kleenex to stop the bleeding and shackled him to the heavy-duty hook installed in the floor in the back of my car.
As I slipped into the driver’s seat the pain in my liver suggested I take it easy. Hattie will hear about how much this job should have been worth.