“Don’t just stand there! Go after him.”
Concerned tourists gathered around the old woman. Purse snatching isn’t on my list of things to witness while vacationing, but hey, I’m a cop. I looked up the flight of marble stairs. The punk that grabbed her bag must have been part monkey. If I tried running him down I’d be clutching my chest like the old lady. I was a lot older than monkey kid and my daily donuts hung around my waist like banana custard. Good think I didn’t need to.
“Don’t worry. He’ll be right down,” I said. “Those upper steps are slick.”
No one noticed my fingers wiggle as I helped the woman stand. A thin glaze of ice formed on the steps. Not an easy feat to do in Southern California. But hey, I’m talented.
Just my luck, monkey kid must have been part cat. He stumbled on the ice, then leaped past. I muttered an oath. At least I had one more ace up my sleeve. My little friend popped up to the top of the stairs just as the kid reached the uppermost step. By little I mean huge. Anyone but me saw Clyde as heat rising in the distance…Unless, of course, you ran into him.
Monkey kid shrieked, then tumbled backwards down the steps. I couldn’t help but smile. Any mention of what he saw would be attributed to the huge crack on his skull. Score one for me and Clyde.
I love the description of his waistline.