Sour Grapes

could see that the boy had taken the clerk by her elbow and led her into the back of the kitchen out of sight.
    Like cigarettes burning holes in an old sofa’s cushions, Savannah could feel the gangsters’ eyes boring into her as they watched her every movement.
    Her mind racing, mentally rehearsing her next sequence of maneuvers, she meandered back to the table where Dirk sat. A thought raced through her brain, This is a dumb idea. You ‘re gonna get yourself and Dirk killed.
    She quickly retorted with a silent, Oh, yeah... can you think of anything better?
    Predictably, there was no reply, silent or otherwise. What she had in mind probably wouldn’t work. But she couldn’t think of anything else, and she’d much prefer to be active than wait and react to a roomful of armed kids with hardened, criminal mind-sets.
    “Did you get me those breadsticks?” Dirk asked, loudly, rudely as she reached the table. He, too, was “getting into character” for their little drama, sitting there in the booth looking grouchy. Fortunately, for Dirk, acting grouchy wasn’t exactly a stretch.
    “Nope, I didn’t get your breadsticks,” she told him, “or my pudding either. They’ve put everything away. You’re outta luck.”
    Taking a deep breath and saying a quick prayer for safety that Granny Reid had taught her more than thirty years ago, she stood next to Dirk. She felt him tense and knew he, too, was ready.
    Suddenly, she grabbed him and yanked him out of the booth and onto his feet. A half second later, she had plastered his face against the nearest wall. “All right, buddy,” she told him, kicking his legs apart, “you spread ‘em and don’t make a move!”
    She heard the gang members gasp collectively, and one of them said, “Hey, man... what the hell?”
    Only then did she allow them to see the 9mm Beretta she had drawn from her shoulder holster. “I’m a cop,” she told them, showing them Dirk’s badge in her other hand, “and I’m arresting this man. Just stay where you are and be cool, and I won’t let him hurt you.”
    She put the badge away, grabbed a pair of handcuffs from her slacks pocket and put them on his wrists. “And you,” she said, giving him an elbow in the back for emphasis, “better not cause me any trouble, or I’ll part your hair with a bullet. What little you’ve got, that is.”
    Dirk growled under his breath; he was more than a little sensitive about his thinning, not-so-luxurious mane. “Watch it,” he said. “You’ll pay later.”
    “Was that a threat?” she said, showing him the Beretta. “Did I hear you threaten me, you lowlife scum?” One of the hoods and the girl got out of their seats and took a couple of steps toward Savannah. She watched them warily.
    “So, what’d he do?” the girl asked.
    The big guy at the door strolled over. “Yeah, whatcha bustin’ him for?”
    “Murder,” Savannah said. “I’ve been after this guy for a long time.” Turning back to Dirk, she said, “That’ll teach you to go on a blind date that your ex-girlfriend arranged. She fixed you up with a homicide detective, Lame Brain. We both owe her one.”
    Savannah gave the gangsters her best deeply concerned, maternal look. “You guys oughta get outta here while you’ve got the chance. I’ve already called for backup, and in a minute this place is gonna be swarming with cops... reporters, too. Maybe even the America’s Most Wanted crew. If I were you, I wouldn’t want to be in the middle of a mess like that. Once they start asking you questions, they never let you go.”
    The older guy gave his troupe a curt nod, and they rushed the door, en masse. Only the girl lingered, gazing at Dirk with what looked a lot like groupie adoration.
    “You’ve been on America ’s Most Wanted?” she asked him, batting her eyelashes. “Who’d you murder?”
    “He’s a serial killer,” Savannah supplied. “Murdered at least a dozen teenage girls... about your age.”
    Dirk shot Savannah a look. He was frowning, but his eyes were sparkling.
    “Really?” The girl was completely smitten. “Wow!”
    “Yeah...” Savannah added, on a roll, “even ate parts of ‘em. Cooked ‘em up, right there in his kitchen along with some onions, turnips, and mustard greens.”
    Dirk turned his face to the wall and cleared his throat. His shoulders shook slightly.
    “Latisha!” The leader was holding the door open. “Move your ass, bitch!”
    “Hmm, smooth-talkin’ laddie, treats his