Big Trouble

He made his biceps as big as possible without audibly grunting. The Human Barbie Doll gave him a look that clearly indicated that she understood and appreciated the effort he was making. She thrust her twin balloons at him. Love was in the air.

"Officer Kramitz," said Monica.

"What?" he said, reluctantly tearing his eyeballs away from the HBD.

"Do you think you can keep things under control here while I take a look in the alley?" asked Monica.

"I can handle it," said Walter, his eyes back on the balloons.

Monica and two other officers went through the alley and spent ten minutes looking around the parking lot. They found one fractured car windshield with a bullet-sized hole in it; they found another car with what looked like a bullet hole in the door panel. They found no people.

By the time they returned to Grand Avenue, the tourist crowd had grown to around one hundred. A dozen Hare Krishnas had shown up and were expressing their spirituality by beating drums and jumping up and down. The HBD was still standing close to Walter, whose face had reddened from the effort of keeping his biceps at full flex for such an extended period. Several more police cruisers had arrived. So had Miami police detective Harvey Baker, for whom Monica summarized the situation.

"So," said Baker, "what you're saying is, for the second time, these three kids are playing this squirt-gun game, and for the second time, a real shooter shows up?"

"That's what it looks like," said Monica. "Except this shooter"—she nodded toward Pendick—"couldn't hit the planet he's standing on."

"Still," said Baker, "it's quite a coincidence, don't you think? A real shooter showing up both times?"

"This is Miami," noted Monica.

"Good point," agreed Baker. "OK, here's what we're gonna do. I'm gonna take him"—he pointed at Pendick—"and him"—he pointed at Andrew—"downtown to get this straightened out."

"Can I call my mom?" asked Andrew.

"Yes," said Baker.

"I wanna call whashisname," said Pendick, picturing a lawyer he'd seen on a local TV commercial, standing in front of a shelf full of law books and basically suggesting that anybody who had ever fallen down was entitled to compensation.

"Who?" asked Baker.

"I don't remember," said Pendick.

"Absolutely, you can call him," said Baker.

"Good," said Pendick, " 'cause I got rights."

"You surely do," agreed Baker. To Andrew, he said, "I also want to talk to your two friends. Any idea where they are?"

"They ran when he started shooting," said Andrew.

"Any idea where they ran to?"

Andrew thought about it. "Probably they got Mart's car and went to ... I guess either his dad's apartment or Jenny's house."

"Jenny's house," said Monica. "That's where somebody shot the TV, right? And you were in the backyard, with Matt?"

"Yeah," said Andrew. "I mean, no."

"The imaginary Mend," said Monica, nodding. To Detective Baker, she said, "How about I swing over to Jenny's house, see if the kids went there?"

"Sounds good," said Baker.

Monica looked over at Walter, who was in Deep Lust Eyeball Lock with the HBD.

"Officer Kramitz," she said, "you ready to roll?"

"Yeah," said Walter. He told the HBD, "We gotta take care of somethin'. See you in a while." Walter had determined, through investigative techniques, that the HBD was staying in the Doubletree Hotel, room 312, and that she had two girlfriends with her, but they would not be a problem because they planned to spend the evening at a South Beach nightclub called Orgasm.

"Be careful," said the HBD, resting her hand on his forearm.

"Don't worry," he said, shifting his flex effort from biceps to triceps. "We're professionals." He turned and strode in a professional manner toward the cruiser. As he reached Monica, he whispered, "Lemme drive, OK?"

Monica, rolling her eyes, handed him the keys and got into the passenger seat. Walter gave the HBD one last view of his arm muscles, swung into the driver's seat, started the cruiser, and gunned the engine. He fired up the siren and, with a totally unnecessary squeal of the tires, roared off down Grand Avenue.

After a minute, Monica said, "Walter, turn off the damn siren."

Glancing into the rearview to make sure they were far enough from the HBD, he switched it off. "Hey," he said, "where 're we goin'?"

"The house over on Garbanzo Street that we went to the other night, where the kid had the squirt gun and somebody shot the TV."

"Why the hell 're we going there?" he asked.

'To see if the other two kids are there, Matt and Jenny," said Monica. "The detective wants to talk to them."

"What, we're a school bus now?" said Walter. "Jesus."

Walter could not believe he was being pulled away from an actual crime scene, featuring a hot babe, to be sent on this lame errand. Walter did not get into police work to fart around with kids and squirt guns. Walter wanted action.