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“Ugh. His ratty tee-shirt doesn’t cover much either.” Julie flipped on the sirens.
Chuck stopped and peered at us.
Shutting the sirens off, Julie turned on the loudspeaker. “Chuck, put the gun down. It’s Gemma, Tess and Julie.”
“Tess?”
“Yes, Tess. Now put the shotgun down,” Julie ordered.
Chuck placed it on the ground.
I quickly hopped out. “Why are you shooting at us Chuck?”
“Dang porch pirates keep taking my stuff.”
Trying to ignore his dangly bits, I picked up the shotgun and unloaded it. “We have your porch pirates in custody.”
“Huh?” He rubbed his chin. “They’re still alive?”
“Yes.” Julie narrowed her eyes. “Why are you putting bombs in packages, Chuck?”
His yellowed teeth bared in a snarl, Chuck hollered, “I’ve lost twenty packages to those low-life thieves. Dagnabbit! It should have gone off.”
Julie and I exchanged horrified glances. He had just admitted to attempted murder.
“The boys disarmed it. You can’t kill people who steal from you,” Mom lectured, petting the loudly purring kitten.
Chuck blinked at her. “Sure, I can.”
“Go inside and get dressed.” When Mom got that certain look in her eyes and used her mean mother voice, she was ten seconds away from kicking your ass.
Chuck stomped his foot like a toddler having a temper tantrum. “Don’t wanna. Too hot for clothes.”
“Not even for some cookies?” Mom’s voice had a steely edge to it.
Julie whispered, “Your Mom’s right eye is twitching.
“I know.” We both backed up a step.
Chuck’s face lit up. “Chocolate chip?”
“Yes. Now scoot. You’re embarrassing my girls.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Chuck hurried off.
Mom cursed loudly in Farsi.
My Farsi wasn’t that good, but she had said something gross about a camel’s dick. I turned my attention back to Chuck and made a face. God did he have a hairy ass and what was the brown stuff stuck to his left butt cheek. Oh, yuck. It looked like dried chocolate pudding. He wasn’t riding in our patrol car without pants on.
Julie frowned. “Do you think Chuck makes his bombs in the trailer or in the barn?”
“With our luck, probably both.” Using my official sheriff’s cellphone, I started taking pictures of the hoarder’s mess.
“Watch out for the rattlesnake,” Julie called.
I jumped about a foot. A bull snake crawled away. “Not funny.”
Julie just grinned.