Fearless Fourteen - Janet Evanovich [37]
“She got a point,” Lula said.
“Yes, but here’s the problem,” I said. “Television bounty hunters do that sort of thing, but I’m not a television bounty hunter. I’m a real-life bond-enforcement agent. So here’s how it’s going to happen. I’m going to knock on Susan’s door and hand her my card and explain who we are. Then I’m going to ask her to come downtown with us so she can get rebonded.”
“Hunh,” Lula said. “I guess you could do it that way, but it’s not gonna get ratings.”
“Humor me,” I said. “Brenda can go to a studio and do voice-overs, and no one will know the difference.”
“That might work,” Lula said to Brenda.
“Freeze, suckah,” Brenda said in a crouch position, pretending she had a gun.
“That’s pretty good,” Lula told her. “You should have your own show. You could do CSI: Brenda.”
I took the paperwork from Connie and shrugged into my jacket. It was almost eighty degrees outside, and I was going to sweat like a pig in this thing.
“Here’s the way it works,” the sound guy said. “I’m going to wire you all, and I’ve also wired the Firebird. We’ll be able to hear everything, so switch yourself off if you need to use the bathroom. We’ve also got a lipstick cam in the Firebird, and we’ll be filming from the van. When you enter the lady’s house, Jeff will follow you with the minicam.”
“What if she doesn’t want to be filmed?” I asked.
“Everyone wants to be filmed,” the sound guy said. “Just start singing the ‘Bad Boys’ theme song.”
We trudged outside, Lula got behind the wheel, Brenda got in next to her, and I climbed into the back. Brenda and Lula were in full view of the lipstick cam mounted above the driver’s side door. The camera didn’t cover the backseat. Fine by me. My hair didn’t look all that great, and my cleavage couldn’t nearly measure up.
Lula drove across town to North Trenton and turned down Bing Street. The film crew van was right behind us. We parked in the apartment building lot, and we all got out. I thought we looked like one of those Publishers Clearing House commercials. The only thing missing was the big check and a bunch of balloons.
I led the parade into the building and up one flight of stairs. The building wasn’t fancy, but it was clean and the paint looked new. There were six apartments on the second floor.
“Now, remember,” I said to Brenda and Lula. “Let me do the talking.”
“I should be the one to do the talking,” Brenda said. “I’m the star.”
“And I’m almost a star,” Lula said. “What about me? I need to get a chance to talk.”
“Yes,” I said. “But I’m the one who signed her name to the contract to apprehend. I’m the one who gets sued if there’s a screwup.”
“Okay,” Lula said. “That sounds fair.”
“I can live with it,” Brenda said.
According to my paperwork, Susan Stitch was twenty-six years old, unmarried, and worked nights as a bartender at the Holiday Inn. She had no priors. And she lived alone.
I rang the bell and a young woman answered the door. Shoulder-length brown hair, brown eyes, slim. Susan Stitch. She looked just like her booking photo. I introduced myself and gave her my card.
“I’m here to bring you to the courthouse so you can get rebonded,” I told her. And that was partially true. The part I neglected to mention was that she would have to go through the arrest process again and that it wasn’t a given she would be released.
She looked over my shoulder at the cameraman and sound guy and Brenda and Lula. “Who are all these people?”
“This is your lucky day,” Lula said. “You been selected to be arrested by Brenda. And these are the guys who follow her around and take pictures.”
“Freeze, bitch,” Brenda said.
Susan squinted at Brenda. “Omigod! Is it really you?”
“Yep,” Brenda said. “In the flesh.”
“Omigod. Omigod!” Susan said. “I’ve got goose bumps. The lady at the bonds office didn’t tell me. I would have worn something different. Omigod, you have to come in so I can get my camera. No one’s going to believe this.”
Susan ran off to get her camera, and we all shuffled