Seven Up (Stephanie Plum 7) - Page 36
Mooner gave them a peace sign. “Dude,” he said.
Father Carolli peaced him back and repeated the mantra. “Dude.”
“What do you want?” DeChooch asked. “Can't you see I'm in church?”
“You're drinking!”
“It's medicinal. I'm depressed.”
“You need to accompany me back to the courthouse so you can get bonded out again,” I said to DeChooch.
DeChooch took a long drag on the bottle and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I'm in church. You can't arrest me in church. God'll be pissed. You'll rot in hell.”
“It's a commanderment,” Carolli said.
Mooner smiled. “These guys are shit-faced.”
I searched through my bag and came up with cuffs.
“Eek, cuffs,” DeChooch said. “I'm so scared.”
I slapped the cuffs on his left wrist and grabbed for his other hand. DeChooch took a 9-mil out of his coat pocket, told Carolli to hold the free bracelet, and fired a round off at the chain. Both men yelped when the bullet severed the chain and sent shock waves up their boney arms.
“Hey,” I said, “those cuffs cost sixty dollars.”
DeChooch narrowed his eyes and stared at Mooner. “Do I know you?”
“I'm the Mooner, dude. You've seen me at Dougie's house.” Mooner held up two fingers pressed tight together. “Dougie and me are like this. We're a team.”
“I knew I recognized you!” DeChooch said. “I hate you and your rotten, thieving partner. I should have guessed Kruper wouldn't be in this alone.”
“Dude,” Mooner said.
DeChooch leveled the gun at Mooner. “Think you're smart, don't you? Think you can take advantage of an old man. Holding out for more money . . . is that your angle?”
Mooner rapped on his head with his knuckles. “No grass growing here.”
“I want it, now,” DeChooch said.
“Happy to do business with you,” Mooner said. “What are we talking about here? Toasters or Super Suits?”
“Asshole,” DeChooch said. And he squeezed off a shot that was aimed at Mooner's knee but missed by about six inches and zinged into the floor.
“Cripes,” Carolli said, hands over his ears, “you're gonna make me go deaf. Put the piece away.”
“I'll put it away after I make him talk,” DeChooch said. “He's got something that belongs to me.” DeChooch leveled the gun again, and Mooner took off up the aisle, at a dead run.
In my mind I was heroic, knocking the gun out of DeChooch's hand. In real time I was paralyzed. Wave a gun under my nose and everything in my body turns to liquid.
DeChooch got off another one that sailed by Mooner and took out a chunk of the baptismal font.
Carolli smacked DeChooch in the back of the head with the flat of his hand. “Knock it off!”
DeChooch stumbled forward and the gun discharged and shot a hole in a four-foot crucifixion painting hanging on the far wall.
Our mouths dropped open. And we all made the sign of the cross.
“Holy crap,” Carolli said. “You shot Jesus. That's gonna take a lot of Hail Marys.”
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