Insane City (36 page)

“What?”
said Meghan. “That’s the stupidest thing I ever—” She stopped, feeling Seth’s hand on her

arm.

“What?” she whispered.

“We had an incident last night,” he whispered back. He glanced toward Trevor.

She stared at him, then whispered, “Did you
rob
somebody with that thing?”

Delgado was looking at them.

“I’ll explain later,” whispered Seth.

“Holy shit,” said Meghan.

The sirens were still distant but getting louder.

The elderly woman and the cashier were focusing on her third item, which was a tube of ChapStick.

The problem, as the clerk was explaining, was that she had selected a tube of ChapStick Medicated and

the coupon she had was good for only ChapStick Moisturizer, ChapStick Ultra 30 or ChapStick Lip

Shield 365.

“OK,” the woman said, “is moisturizer similar to medicated? Could I just switch them maybe?”

“They’re really two different purposes,” the cashier said. “But I think there’s an offer, with the

medicated, where you can get a one-dollar mail-in rebate.”

“What do I have to mail in?” said the woman.

“A proof of purchase,” said the cashier.

“How do I get that?”

“You have to buy the ChapStick.”

“Which one do I have to buy?”

“I’m going to fucking kill myself,” said Castronovo.

The entire sequence of events took seventy-one seconds. It began when Meghan made a civilian

mistake.

Meghan, being rich and pretty and in possession of a healthy pair of breasts, was used to getting her

way, especially with men, even when what she wanted was not technically allowed. People bent the rules

for Meghan, and she was able, thanks to the fact that she was also funny and charming, to make them feel

good about doing it. It was rare for Meghan to be told no.

Right now it was very important to Meghan that she and Seth not get arrested because that would

wreck her sister’s wedding. It was also important to her that Laurette and her kids not get taken into

custody by the authorities. And it was important to Meghan, although less so, that the orangutan not be

harmed.

Meghan saw that the way to achieve all three of these objectives was to persuade this police officer

to simply let them all go right now, before more police arrived, which, to judge from the sound of the

sirens, would be soon. Meghan, who had talked her way out of countless speeding tickets, including the

time she had been clocked going 102 miles per hour in a 55 zone, sincerely believed she could do this.

She even believed that, with a little luck, she could do it in such a way that the Haitians got into the

Escalade with her, Seth, Cyndi and Trevor and they would drive off, leaving the assholes Castronovo and

Brewer behind.

This was Meghan’s plan. The key was for her to work her charm on the officer. Quickly.

She walked up to Delgado, smiling what she knew from experience was a winning smile suggesting

warmth and just a hint of sexuality. “Look, Officer,” she said, putting a little huskiness in her voice. “First

of all, I’m very sorry about yelling at you.”

Meghan reached out her hand. She had found that physical contact had a positive effect on people,

especially men. She rested her hand on Delgado’s right forearm. This was the forearm connected to the

hand that was resting on the butt of the still-holstered Glock.

That was Meghan’s big mistake.

“So what you’re saying,” the coupon woman was saying, “is that if I buy the one I’m buying, the

medicated, you’ll give me a dollar rebate?”

“No,” said the cashier. “I give you proof of purchase and you have to mail that in to get the rebate.”

“Mail what in?”

“Excuse me,” said Castronovo, tapping the woman on her shoulder. She turned around and looked at

him.

“Let me show you how a normal, non-retarded human being buys things at a drugstore,” he said.

“Let’s say you wanted to buy this”—he reached past the coupon woman and put the Huggies on the

counter—“and this”—he put the Enfamil on the counter. “Now, watch closely. What you do is, you get out

your wallet”—he got out his wallet, opened it, removed a $100 bill—“and YOU PAY FOR IT WITH

NORMAL FUCKING MONEY.” He slapped the bill on the counter, picked up the Huggies and the

Enfamil and started walking toward the exit.

For a moment, the woman and the cashier watched him.

Then the woman said, “Wasn’t I ahead of him?”

“Sir!” called the cashier.

Castronovo stopped, looked back.

“The Huggies Little Snugglers are buy one, get one free,” said the cashier.

Castronovo gave him the finger, then resumed walking.

Police officers do not like to be touched. They especially do not like to be touched by civilians when

they are in high-stress situations that they believe pose a threat of physical harm, such as when they are

operating solo and are surrounded by suspicious-acting individuals, some of them males. Not to mention

an orangutan.

When Meghan’s hand touched Officer Delgado’s arm, he wasn’t looking at her, wasn’t expecting the

contact. He was focusing most of his attention on Trevor, but he was glancing frequently at Seth and

Brewer—especially Brewer, who hadn’t done much but who looked to Delgado like a potential problem.

Delgado didn’t like this situation, not at all. Outside, he was a calm and experienced cop waiting for

backup; inside, he was a piano wire tightened to its limit.

So when Delgado felt Meghan’s hand on the arm he planned to use to defend himself if something

went down, he reacted forcefully, with the survival instincts of a streetwise cop. Without even turning his

head, he threw his right elbow out sideways, getting Meghan’s hand off his arm and sending her staggering

away.

That was Officer Delgado’s big mistake.

Trevor, who had been intently watching as his female approached this unfamiliar male, launched

himself from the Escalade, using both his legs and his extremely powerful arms to cover the distance

between him and the rival male in less than a second. It was a testament to Delgado’s alertness and

reflexes that he was able to get his Glock clear of the holster. But he had no chance to aim and fire before

one-eighth of a ton of irate great ape slammed directly into his chest, sending him backward, airborne, the

Glock flying high into the air, spinning against the brilliant blue sky like the bone in
2001: A Space

Odyssey
.

Officer Delgado landed on his back in the parking lot, his head banging hard on the asphalt. By the

time his Glock came clanking down twenty feet away, Brewer had his hand inside his sport jacket and

was pulling out his Smith & Wesson Model 64, the six-shot revolver he’d carried ever since he started

out at the NYPD. He got it clear from the holster and swung it toward Trevor.

That was Brewer’s big mistake. Trevor, who hated guns, and especially hated having guns pointed at

him, launched from where he stood and landed on Brewer before he could squeeze the trigger. The two of

them went down, the gun clattering away on the asphalt. As Brewer landed on his back, Trevor, on top,

sank his teeth into Brewer’s nose. Brewer emitted a high-pitched, un-bodyguard-like yelp.

Ten seconds had passed.

Meghan, seeing Delgado out cold and Brewer battling a pissed-off orangutan chomping on his face,

shouted, “Get in the car! Get in the car!” She shoved Seth toward the driver’s seat of the Escalade and

started around to the passenger side. Meanwhile Cyndi, quickly picking up on the plan, grabbed Laurette

and Stephane and pushed them into the backseat.

Fifteen seconds had passed. Seth started the engine. Meghan was halfway around the front of the

Escalade.

Trevor was blocking her path.

He’d seen her running and he was definitely not about to let her go, not after defeating
two
males so

he could have her. So he’d jumped up from biting Brewer’s face and shot around in front of Meghan,

preparing to make the traditional mating noises that instinct told him would win her heart.

Twenty seconds had passed. Brewer, blood pouring down his face from his wounded nose, was

starting to get up, looking around for his revolver.

Meghan, trying desperately to get around Trevor, danced left, then right, then left again. Trevor

stayed right in front of her, moving with her, interpreting her actions as receptive and flirtatious. Trevor

was starting to get a boner.

It went away instantly when Brewer fired the first shot.

The shot missed; Brewer, ordinarily an excellent marksman, had been shaken by Trevor’s attack and

his hands were trembling with rage. He started toward Meghan and Trevor, gun extended. They both

turned and took off across the parking lot, Meghan running, Trevor bounding along using his arms.

Meghan’s goal was to reach Officer Delgado’s police cruiser and use it as a shield. Trevor’s goal was to

get away from the scary noise.

Brewer walked around the front of the Escalade, stopped, steadied himself, inhaled and squeezed off

another shot. Trevor yelped in pain and fell. Brewer started walking again.

Thirty-three seconds had passed.

Meghan heard the second shot but did not turn; she kept running, thinking only of getting away. She

reached the cruiser and ran behind it. Delgado had left the driver’s-side door open and the engine running.

Keeping herself low, Meghan peeked over the roof of the car. In an instant her terror turned to rage. “GET

AWAY FROM HIM!” she shouted.

Brewer, approaching the fallen Trevor, stopped and looked up at her. His face, shirt and sport jacket

were drenched in blood. He looked away from Meghan and resumed walking toward Trevor, holding his