“Nice touch with the towels,” I said.
“We're crime-fighters,” Grandma said.
“Are they still in there?” I asked.
“Yes. I've been talking to Chooch on Dougie's cell phone,” Grandma said. “He said he'll only release Mooner if we get him a helicopter and then have a plane waiting at Newark to take him to South America. I think he might be drinking.”
I punched his number into my cell phone.
“I want to talk to you,” I said.
“Never. Not until I get my helicopter.”
“You're not going to get a helicopter with Mooner as hostage. Nobody cares if you shoot him. If you let Mooner go, I'll come in and take his place. I'd be a better hostage for a helicopter.”
“Okay,” DeChooch said. “That makes sense.”
As if any of this made sense.
Mooner came out dressed in his Super Suit and bath towel. DeChooch kept a gun to his head until I stepped onto the porch.
“This is like, embarrassing,” Mooner said. “I mean, how does it look for a superhero crime-fighter to get snatched by an old dude.” He looked at DeChooch. “Nothing personal, man.”
“Take Grandma home,” I said to Mooner. “My mother is worried about her.”
“You mean like now?”
“Yes. Now.”
Grandma was still across the street and I didn't want to shout at her, so I called her on the cell phone. “I'm going to work this out with Eddie,” I said. “You and Mooner and Dougie should go home.”
“That doesn't sound like a good idea to me,” Grandma said. “I think I should stay.”
“Thanks, but this will be easier if I do it myself.”
“Should I call the police?”
I looked at DeChooch. He didn't look crazy or angry. He looked tired. If I brought the police in DeChooch might go into defense mode and do something dumb, like shoot me. If I got some quiet talk time with him I might be able to persuade him to come in. “Negative on that,” I said.
I disconnected and DeChooch and I remained on the porch until Grandma and Mooner and Dougie left.
“Is she going to call the police?” DeChooch asked.
“No.”
“Think you can bring me in all by yourself?”
“I don't want anyone to get hurt. Me included.” I followed him into the house. “You don't really expect a helicopter, do you?”
He made a disgusted gesture with his hand and shuffled into the kitchen. “I just said that to impress Edna. I had to say something. She thinks I'm a big-shot fugitive.” He opened the refrigerator. “There's nothing to eat. When my wife was alive there was always something to eat.”
I filled the coffeemaker with water and spooned coffee into the filter. I looked through the cupboards and found a box of cookies. I put some cookies on a plate and sat down at the kitchen table with Eddie DeChooch.
“You look tired,” I said.
He nodded his head. “I didn't have any place to sleep lastnight. I was going to pick up my Social Security check tonight and get a hotel room somewhere, but Edna showed up with the two clowns. Nothing goes right for me.” He picked at a cookie. “I can't even kill myself. Fucking prostate. I pulled the Cadillac across the tracks. I'm sitting there waiting to die and what happens? I've gotta take a piss. I've always gotta take a piss. So I get out and go over to a bush to take a leak and the train comes. What are the chances of that happening? And then I didn't know what to do and I chickened out. Ran away like a fucking coward.”
“It was a terrific crash.”