“Well, they're gonna do it all the same,” Lula said.
“Sons of bitches,” Briggs said. “They're always doing something in this building. I don't know why I stay here.”
“Cheap rent?” Lula asked.
The door closed, the chain slid off, and the door opened wide.
“Hey!” Briggs said when Lula and I pushed past him into the apartment. “You can't just barge in like this. You tricked me.”
“Look again,” Lula said. “We're bounty hunters. We can barge if we want to. We got rights.”
“You have no rights,” Briggs said. “It's a bogus charge. I was carrying a ceremonial knife. It was engraved.”
“A ceremonial knife,” Lula said. “Seems like a little dude like you should be able to carry a ceremonial knife.”
“Exactly,” Randy said. “I'm unjustly accused.”
“ 'Course it don't matter,” Lula said. “You still gotta go to the pokey with us.”
“I'm in the middle of a big project. I don't have time.”
“Hmmm,” Lula said. “Let me explain to you how this works. Bottom line is, we don't give a doody.”
Briggs pressed his lips together and folded his arms tight across his chest. “You can't make me go.”
“Sure we can,” Lula said. “You're just a little pipsqueak. We could make you sing 'Yankee Doodle' if we wanted. 'Course, we wouldn't do that on account of we're professionals.”
I pulled a pair of cuffs out of my back pocket and clamped one of the bracelets on Briggs.
Briggs looked at the cuff like it was the flesh-?eating virus. “What's this?”
“Nothing to be alarmed about,” I said. “Standard procedure.”
“Eeeeeeeee,” Briggs shrieked. “Eeeeeeeee.”
“Stop that!” Lula yelled. “You sound like a girl. You're creeping me out.”
He was running around the room now, waving his arms and still shrieking. “Eeeeeeeee.”
“Get a grip!” Lula said.
“Eeeeeeee.”
I made a grab for the cuff but missed. “Stand still,” I ordered.
Briggs bolted past Lula, who was dumbstruck, rooted to the floor, and then ran out the door.
“Get him,” I yelled, rushing at Lula. “Don't let him get away!” I pushed her into the hall, and we thundered down the stairs after Briggs.
Briggs sprinted through the small lobby, through the front door, and into the parking lot.
“Well, damn,” Lula said, “I can hear his little feet going, but I can't see him. He's lost in between all these cars.”
We separated and walked into the lot, Lula going one way and me the other. We stopped and listened for footsteps when we got to the outer perimeter.
“I don't hear him anymore,” Lula said. “He must be going tippytoe.”
We started to walk back when we saw Briggs round the corner of the apartment building and race inside.