“No, I didn't kill that
foot. That's what I've been trying to tell you. Someone jacked me over. I've been sitting out here, freezing my ass off, waiting to kill that sonovabitch Cameron Brown, and someone beat me to it. It isn't fair!”
Jackie wheeled off for the Dumpster with Lula and me scrambling to keep up.
“I decided to neaten up the car,” Jackie said. “So I come over here with a bag of trash, and I'm throwing it in the Dumpster, and I see something sort of reflecting light. And I look a little harder, and I see it's a watch. And then I see it's attached to a wrist. And I say, Goddamn, I know that watch and that wrist. So I dig around some and look what I come up with. Look what I hauled out of the goddamn garbage.”
She stopped at the bush, reached down, grabbed hold of the foot and dragged a man's body out into the open. “Just look at this. He's dead. And if that isn't bad enough, he's frozen solid. This motherfucker is one big frosty Popsicle. It's not even like I get to see him rot. Damn.”
Jackie dropped the foot and gave Cameron a good solid kick in the ribs.
Lula and I jumped back and sucked in some air.
“Dang,” Lula said.
“That ain't the half of it,” Jackie said. “I've been sitting here waiting to shoot him, and that's what I'm going to do.”
Jackie opened her coat, pulled a 9mm Beretta out of her sweatpants and drilled half a clip into Cameron Brown. Cameron jumped around some from the impact, but mostly the bullets didn't have much effect—except for putting a bunch of extra holes in various body parts.
“Are you nuts?” Lula yelled. “This guy's dead! You're shooting a dead man!”
“Isn't my fault,” Jackie said. “I wanted to shoot him while he was alive, but somebody beat me to it. I'm just making the best of a bad situation.”
“You've been drinking,” Lula said.
“Damn skippy. Would have froze to death if I didn't have a nip once in a while.”
Jackie raised the gun, looking to unload a few more rounds into Cameron.
“Hold on,” Lula said. “I hear sirens.”
We stood still and listened to the whoop, whoop, whoop.
“Coming this way!” Lula said. “Every man for himself!”
We all ran for our cars and took off at the same time, almost crashing into each other trying to get out of the lot.
Stephanie Plum 3 - Three To Get Deadly
7
Jackie and Lula and I rendezvoused at a Dunkin' Donuts parking lot, about a quarter mile from RiverEdge. We parked our cars side by side and got out to have a huddle.
“I need a doughnut,” Jackie said. “I want one of those fancy ones with the colored sprinkles on top.”
“You need more than a doughnut,” Lula told her. “You need your head examined. You just shot up a dead man. What were you thinking?”
Jackie was rummaging in her pockets, looking for doughnut money. “I guess I got a right to shoot someone if I want to.”
“Nuh-uh,” Lula said. “There's rules. This man was already dead, and you showed disrespect for the deceased.”
“The deceased didn't deserve no respect. He stole my car.”
“Everybody deserves respect when they're dead,” Lula said. “It's a rule.”
“Says who?”
“Says God.”