Page 5
Story: Stilettos and Outlaws
“Sweetie, I’ve gotten it on with your father in a foxhole, and we were still able to fight.”
Nate’s eyes bugged.
Gak! “TMI, Mom.”
“You asked.”
She had a point. I hurried into the training center. “Have you learned anything else, Julie?”
“Yeah, not only is the trunk full of pilfered packages, but they also have a storage unit full of stolen goods.” Julie took a radio from the charging unit and attached it to her gun belt.
Mom sighed. “Let me guess. They sell the stuff at the local flea markets?”
“Yep.”
I opened my locker, grabbed my gun belt and strapped it on. “Sarge wants me to check on Chuck Hennessey and see what kind of bomb making materials he has on hand.”
“There’s no tellin’ what kind of stuff that crazy old coot has stashed away,” Julie eyed my mom. “I take it breakfast is a no-go today.”
Mom grimaced. “It is, but I have a batch of Rosita’s tamales in the fridge.”
“Yum.” I slid my Glock into the holster. “Mom says Chuck has dementia too.”
“Shit! Dementia makes them mean.”
Sergeant Bergman stuck his head in the door. “Garza, go with her.”
“Yes, sir.” Julie pointed at the still sobbing woman. “You need to double-check the trunk. They’ve stolen from Hennessey before.”
“Damn!” The sarge spun on his heel and hurried back to the Camry.
Mom smiled evilly. “You can’t cure stupid, but you sure as hell can lock it up.”
“So true.” Julie snatched a set of keys off the pegboard and tossed me a radio. “I’m driving.”
I rolled my eyes and followed her across the parking lot. “I’m sorry we ruined your sexy time, Mom.”
“Me too.”
With Mom’s help, we quickly checked the patrol car for contraband, bombs, and any damage.
Mom wrinkled her nose. “Your car smells like old farts.”
“Easy fix. We have Stink Away in the trunk,” I said.
Julie popped the trunk, and I grabbed the bottle and sprayed the back seat. “Better, Mom?”
“It is, but I’m keeping the Stink Away.”
I shrugged. “Okay, we’ve got more.”
Mom climbed in and drenched the floor mats.
“We need to have a long talk with Scotty about his obsessive farting.” Julie said as I slid into the front seat.
“All he needs to do is lay off the Mexican food.”
Mom laughed. “When your brothers were younger, they used to have fart contests. The house reeked for hours.”
Nate’s eyes bugged.
Gak! “TMI, Mom.”
“You asked.”
She had a point. I hurried into the training center. “Have you learned anything else, Julie?”
“Yeah, not only is the trunk full of pilfered packages, but they also have a storage unit full of stolen goods.” Julie took a radio from the charging unit and attached it to her gun belt.
Mom sighed. “Let me guess. They sell the stuff at the local flea markets?”
“Yep.”
I opened my locker, grabbed my gun belt and strapped it on. “Sarge wants me to check on Chuck Hennessey and see what kind of bomb making materials he has on hand.”
“There’s no tellin’ what kind of stuff that crazy old coot has stashed away,” Julie eyed my mom. “I take it breakfast is a no-go today.”
Mom grimaced. “It is, but I have a batch of Rosita’s tamales in the fridge.”
“Yum.” I slid my Glock into the holster. “Mom says Chuck has dementia too.”
“Shit! Dementia makes them mean.”
Sergeant Bergman stuck his head in the door. “Garza, go with her.”
“Yes, sir.” Julie pointed at the still sobbing woman. “You need to double-check the trunk. They’ve stolen from Hennessey before.”
“Damn!” The sarge spun on his heel and hurried back to the Camry.
Mom smiled evilly. “You can’t cure stupid, but you sure as hell can lock it up.”
“So true.” Julie snatched a set of keys off the pegboard and tossed me a radio. “I’m driving.”
I rolled my eyes and followed her across the parking lot. “I’m sorry we ruined your sexy time, Mom.”
“Me too.”
With Mom’s help, we quickly checked the patrol car for contraband, bombs, and any damage.
Mom wrinkled her nose. “Your car smells like old farts.”
“Easy fix. We have Stink Away in the trunk,” I said.
Julie popped the trunk, and I grabbed the bottle and sprayed the back seat. “Better, Mom?”
“It is, but I’m keeping the Stink Away.”
I shrugged. “Okay, we’ve got more.”
Mom climbed in and drenched the floor mats.
“We need to have a long talk with Scotty about his obsessive farting.” Julie said as I slid into the front seat.
“All he needs to do is lay off the Mexican food.”
Mom laughed. “When your brothers were younger, they used to have fart contests. The house reeked for hours.”
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