Corpse Suzette

his
public service obligation’s been fulfilled. He’s done hiring ex-cons.”
    “And you figure our buddy’s
going to take his firing hard and go off the deep end?”
    Dirk smiled, a nasty little
grin that Savannah knew all too well. “Oh yeah. Loco’s pretty predictable. When
things don’t go his way, he reverts to his old way of life. And besides, I’m
feeling particularly lucky. I got two out of five on a Lotto scratch-off card
this afternoon.”
    Savannah shot him a
sideways glance to see if he was serious. He was.
    She decided not to mention
that getting two out of five on a scratch-off was an everyday occurrence for
most Lotto enthusiasts. No point in dampening Dirk’s cheerful mood which for
him was as rare as getting all five on a scratch-off card... while sitting
naked on the back of a bull elephant... under a blue moon.
    She took the last bite of
her Boston cream and washed it down with her last sip of coffee. Okay. The food
was gone; it was time for this stakeout to end.
    “So,” she said, “you figure
he’ll knock off another convenience store before the night’s out?”
    He took the empty donut
bag, crunched it into a ball, and tossed it onto the back floorboard. “Tonight.
Tomorrow night. Next Tuesday. It’ll happen, and it’ll be worth the wait. After
all, I’m a very patient man.”
    Savannah sniffed. “Yeah,
right. This from a guy who has a conniption if he has to wait three seconds for
a light to turn green, who pitches a fit if a waitress takes longer than five
seconds to refill his coffee cup, who—”
    “All right, all right. I...
hey... heads up.”
    He pointed to the back door
of the burger joint, where their quarry had just emerged, wearing a bright red
uniform with the white “BB” Burger Bonanza logo on the back. Roco stomped
across the parking lot to an old, decrepit Chevy. Opening the trunk, he peeled
off the shirt and pitched it onto the ground.
    “The boy looks downright
disgruntled to me,” Savannah said
    with a snicker.
    “Oh, he’s had better days,”
Dirk agreed.
    They watched as the guy
dropped the red pants, kicked off his shoes, and yanked the trousers off his
ankles.
    “Well, would you get a load
of that,” Savannah said. “Right down to his bloomers, here in front of God and
everybody.”
    “I oughta bust him for
exposin’ himself right now,” Dirk replied.
    Savannah took a pair of
binoculars from the glove box and focused them on Roco’s rear end. “Or for
wearing those briefs. They say ‘kiss me under the mistletoe’ and Christmas was
two weeks ago. That’s gotta be some sort of fashion felony.”
    Roco had thrown the pants
onto the ground beside the shirt, then retrieved a pair of jeans from the
trunk. In less than a minute, he was wearing the jeans and a black sweatshirt,
and his sneakers were back on his feet.
    As Roco got into his car,
Dirk restarted the Buick and Savannah fastened her safety belt, happy for a bit
of action. If there was anything she hated it was a boring stakeout once the
goodies were gone.
    A few seconds later, Roco
peeled out of the parking lot, going out of his way to drive over the discarded
uniform. They followed him onto the freeway, where he chose the northbound
entrance ramp.
    “He lives south of here,”
Savannah said.
    Dirk smiled. “I know. Like
I said, I’m feeling lucky tonight.”
     
    “I don’t know what to make
of this,” Dirk said as Roco disappeared inside Kidz Emporium. Having followed
him to a strip mall on the outskirts of town and the large toy store, they had
parked a discreet distance away and watched as he entered the establishment.
    Savannah shrugged. “Do you
figure he’d go shopping for a nephew’s or niece’s birthday or whatever, right
after getting fired from a job he badly needed?”
    “Can’t imagine it. Maybe he
needs a video game to while away the idle hours now that he’s unemployed.”
    Savannah got out her cell
phone and called information, then dialed the store’s number. “Security,
please. Yes, hello. I’m with the San Carmelita Police Department”—she gave Dirk
a sideways smirk—“and I was wondering if you could discreetly surveil a
gentleman who’s just entered your store and let us know what he purchases, if
anything. Yes, Caucasian, thirty, black hair, dark eyes, six feet, one hundred
and forty pounds, jeans and black sweatshirt. Sure. I’ll hold. Thanks a bunch,
darlin’.”
    A few minutes later,
Savannah thanked the security guard again, tossed