Seven Up - By Janet Evanovich Page 0,43

there, and DeChooch rolled by again.

"Jesus," Joe said. "What's with this guy?"

"Maybe he's looking for a parking place."

Morelli was on his feet. "I'm getting my truck. You go inside and tell Tom Bell."

Morelli took off and I went to get Bell. I passed Myron Birnbaum on the stairs. Hold on. Myron Birnbaum was leaving. He was giving up his parking place and DeChooch was looking for a parking place. And knowing Myron Birnbaum, I was betting he'd parked close by. All I had to do was keep Birnbaum's space open until DeChooch came along. DeChooch would park and I'd have him trapped. Goddamn, I was so clever.

I followed Birnbaum, and just as I'd expected he was parked at the corner, three cars down from Stiva's, nicely sandwiched between a Toyota and a Ford SUV. I waited for him to pull out, and then I jumped into the empty space and started waving people away. Eddie DeChooch could barely see past the front bumper of his car, so I didn't have to worry about him spotting me from a distance. My plan was to save the space for him and then hide behind the SUV when the Cadillac came into view.

I heard heels clacking on the sidewalk and turned to see Valerie clippity-clopping over to me.

"What's going on?" Valerie said. "Are you holding a parking place for someone? Do you want me to help?"

An old lady in a ten-year-old Oldsmobile stopped short of the parking space and put her right turn signal on.

"Sorry," I said, motioning for her to move on. "This spot is taken."

The old lady responded by gesturing for me to get out of the way.

I shook my head no. "Try the parking lot."

Valerie was standing to my side, waving her arms, pointing to the lot, looking like one of those guys who direct planes onto the runway. She was dressed almost exactly like me with the exception of a slightly different color scheme. Valerie's shoes were lavender.

The old lady beeped her horn at me and started creeping forward into the space. Valerie jumped back but I put my hands on my hips and glared at the woman and refused to budge.

There was another old lady in the passenger seat. She rolled her window down and stuck her head out. "This is our parking place."

"This is a police operation," I said. "You're going to have to park someplace else."

"Are you a police officer?"

"I'm bail enforcement."

"That's right," Valerie said. "This is my sister and she's a bail bonds enforcement person."

"Bail bonds is different from police," the woman said.

"The police are on their way," I told her.

"I think you're a big fibber. I think you're saving this spot for your boyfriend. Nobody in police work would dress like you."

The Oldsmobile was about a third into the parking space with the rear of the car blocking off half of Hamilton. From the corner of my eye I caught a flash of white and before I had a chance to react, DeChooch smashed into the Oldsmobile. The Oldsmobile bounced forward and smashed into the back of the SUV, missing me by half an inch. The Cadillac careened off the left rear quarter panel of the Oldsmobile, and I could see DeChooch struggling to get control. He turned and looked directly at me, for a moment we all seemed suspended in time, and then he took off.

Damn!

The two old ladies wrenched open the doors to the Oldsmobile and struggled out.

"Look at my car!" the driver said. "It's a wreck!" She whirled around at me. "It's all your fault. You did this. I hate you." And she hit me in the shoulder with her purse.

"Yow," I said, "that hurts."

She was a couple inches shorter than me but had me by a few pounds. Her hair was cut short and was newly permed. She looked to be in her sixties. She was wearing bright red lipstick, had crayoned dark brown eyebrows onto herself, and her cheeks were decorated with spots of rose-toned rouge. Definitely not from the Burg. Probably Hamilton Township.

"I should have run you over when I had the chance," she said.

She hit me with the purse again, and this time I grabbed it by the strap and yanked it out of her hand.

Behind me I could hear Valerie give a little yelp of surprise.

"My purse," the woman shrieked. "Thief! Help. She took my purse!"

A crowd had started to form around us. Motorists and mourners. The old lady grabbed one of the men on the