“IF YOU make me run, I'm not going to be happy when I catch you,” Reg yelled in vain, then took off after his suspect.
"Got your back, partner,” Reuben said. He hopped in their unmarked unit.
Reg sidestepped a rotund, spindly-legged elderly woman, pushing a shopping cart. He picked up his stride again. The plan was to wrap up his caseload early, and get a jump on tracking the Animal leads to ground. Benny Giovanni was mucking up the works.
“Arf! Arf!”
A Chihuahua tied to a fire hydrant nipped at his heels.
Feisty little critter.
Reg was gaining on a suspect whose reason for running eluded him. A simple approach, to ask a few simple questions, had set him off. Benny ‘The Hustler’ Giovanni would pay for making him sweat out his good shirt. A shirt Carol bought him last year, along with silver cufflinks and cashmere socks, as incentive to accompany her on a visit to his mother-in-law’s. Mixed feelings, but Benny would still pay.
His suspect cut into Dark Poet Cleaners.
Why would anyone name a cleaning service ‘Dark Poet?’ Did you get a free poem with every bill over $20?
Reg didn’t know, considering until that moment, he had never been inside. He burst in panting like the Chihuahua he passed. A bandana-clad hipster behind the counter pointed a gnarled finger toward the back of his store.
Reg leapt the counter and barreled through a double line of clothes, hanging on standing racks. The plastic blouse around one of the garments latched onto him. Freshly laundered, ready for pick-up apparel went sprawling, twisting, and tumbling to the ground. He ripped away the dragging garment snagged on his silver cufflink, and ran on.
"Sorry,” he yelled over his shoulder.
Benny, I swear, when I catch you…
He slashed through the rear door and eyeballed the grimy backstreet for his suspect. He didn’t have to look far. At the end of the alley, where it let out into the street, Benny was stretched out on the pavement being handcuffed by Reuben.
Reg wheezed his way over and pulled out the handkerchief his wife always made him carry.
"I do all the work and you get the collar?"
"Traffic is a bitch at this hour," Reuben grinned. His large teeth were set inside an equally large mouth.
"Maybe, but I don't see you dripping like a faucet."
"You’re the fast one. I let you do your thing."
"Yeah, well, next time we’ll see what you got.”
Reg wedged his foot between Benny Giovanni and the ground. He flipped him onto his back. The onset of swelling in their runner’s split lip meant that Reuben had already given him the, ‘don't make me chase you again,’ speech.
“This had better be good, Benny."
"I got unpaid child support.”
“Pffft. You will have a hell of a time paying it behind bars." Reg yanked him to his feet. "And you owe me one dry cleaned shirt."