going?” she asked.
“To the station – “
“You like being a cop?”
At that precise moment Justine spotted Malcolm stumbling blindly outside of the house where Devon lived. I didn’t know it at the time but even while blinded by the hairspray, Malcolm had managed to find my Gucci and carry it out of the building; apparently he had the money filled purse hanging from his arm. Why he clung to it, I’ll never know. Maybe he thought if I got away he’d find my I.D. and then me.
According to accounts, Justine hadn’t noticed Malcolm right away but when she did she took immediate action. “What the...? Oh, he's gotta be drunk.”
Then, according to Emilia, who concurred with Justine’s assessment of the magician, Malcolm tried to make his way from the house to the curb where his car was parked. He staggered, fumbled, tripped and fell. Justine couldn’t wait to get him to walk a straight line. I didn’t notice Justine or her car, or even remembered that Emilia had been arrested and was nearby.
All through my spider body I felt the vibrations of Malcolm’s stumbles and then of Justine’s police car as she zipped over to us. I heard the door open and I saw eight Justine’s, with game face on, step out of the car and race over to Malcolm for the arrest. I scurried around to the back of his pant leg where I wouldn’t be so obvious.
I didn’t know how Justine felt about large spiders.
“Hold it right there. You're under arrest.” Her voice seemed really loud. I didn’t know if it was my spider hearing or if Justine thought he might be deaf as well as drunk. Malcolm ignored the cop’s first warning and attempted to step around the rather tall and muscle packed officer. I’d seen Devon make the same avoidance mistake back at the Koldwell bank robbery, and I knew we were headed for a tumble. I tried to find a safe spot. Malcolm had his car keys out, and they caught the sunlight and twinkled.
“Hey, lady, I'm blind. What? Is it against the law to feel my way around?”
“You're drunk.”
“That bitch sprayed me with pepper spray.”
“Sir, walk a straight line toward me. Follow the sound of my voice,” she yelled.
“Are you deaf?”
At that point even I heard the click of Justine’s magical handcuffs. I didn’t know what those handcuffs were capable of, being magical and all, maybe they were only an endless supply for a cop whose life consisted of immobilizing folks, but I was sure glad at the moment that I wasn’t Malcolm.
“Hands behind your back. Give me your keys.”
Malcolm made an about face, and I wanted to shout to him that he was headed for disaster, but all I managed to make was a creepy twittering sound.
Meanwhile, Malcolm tripped, lost his balance, pitched sideways over a low cement parking barrier and landed at Justine’s feet. My Gucci purse lay ahead of his bleeding head, as if it were an offering to the gods.
“I am not drunk! Malcolm yelled up, sounding desperate.
With one powerful restraining leap, Justine held him down and cuffed him.
She yanked him to his feet and I scuttled up his pant leg, trying to keep out of Justine’s line of sight. She walked him over to her car, guiding his walk with her voice, opened the door, pushed his head down and shoved him into the back seat beside Emilia, who sat quietly with her hands cuffed behind her back. It looked like Justine was single handedly going to round up all the majors before I even got started. I scuttled up to Malcolm’s shoulder and was pleased to see that my purse still hung from his arm, but before I scuttled out of sight again, Emilia began to scream.
She went straight into panic mode and flailed around the tight space of the backseat then performed contortionist moves that allowed her to somehow bring her cuffed hands down under her legs to the forefront of her body. She grabbed at Malcolm’s jacket partially ripping the sleeve from the its join in an attempt to get rid of me.
In the
“To the station – “
“You like being a cop?”
At that precise moment Justine spotted Malcolm stumbling blindly outside of the house where Devon lived. I didn’t know it at the time but even while blinded by the hairspray, Malcolm had managed to find my Gucci and carry it out of the building; apparently he had the money filled purse hanging from his arm. Why he clung to it, I’ll never know. Maybe he thought if I got away he’d find my I.D. and then me.
According to accounts, Justine hadn’t noticed Malcolm right away but when she did she took immediate action. “What the...? Oh, he's gotta be drunk.”
Then, according to Emilia, who concurred with Justine’s assessment of the magician, Malcolm tried to make his way from the house to the curb where his car was parked. He staggered, fumbled, tripped and fell. Justine couldn’t wait to get him to walk a straight line. I didn’t notice Justine or her car, or even remembered that Emilia had been arrested and was nearby.
All through my spider body I felt the vibrations of Malcolm’s stumbles and then of Justine’s police car as she zipped over to us. I heard the door open and I saw eight Justine’s, with game face on, step out of the car and race over to Malcolm for the arrest. I scurried around to the back of his pant leg where I wouldn’t be so obvious.
I didn’t know how Justine felt about large spiders.
“Hold it right there. You're under arrest.” Her voice seemed really loud. I didn’t know if it was my spider hearing or if Justine thought he might be deaf as well as drunk. Malcolm ignored the cop’s first warning and attempted to step around the rather tall and muscle packed officer. I’d seen Devon make the same avoidance mistake back at the Koldwell bank robbery, and I knew we were headed for a tumble. I tried to find a safe spot. Malcolm had his car keys out, and they caught the sunlight and twinkled.
“Hey, lady, I'm blind. What? Is it against the law to feel my way around?”
“You're drunk.”
“That bitch sprayed me with pepper spray.”
“Sir, walk a straight line toward me. Follow the sound of my voice,” she yelled.
“Are you deaf?”
At that point even I heard the click of Justine’s magical handcuffs. I didn’t know what those handcuffs were capable of, being magical and all, maybe they were only an endless supply for a cop whose life consisted of immobilizing folks, but I was sure glad at the moment that I wasn’t Malcolm.
“Hands behind your back. Give me your keys.”
Malcolm made an about face, and I wanted to shout to him that he was headed for disaster, but all I managed to make was a creepy twittering sound.
Meanwhile, Malcolm tripped, lost his balance, pitched sideways over a low cement parking barrier and landed at Justine’s feet. My Gucci purse lay ahead of his bleeding head, as if it were an offering to the gods.
“I am not drunk! Malcolm yelled up, sounding desperate.
With one powerful restraining leap, Justine held him down and cuffed him.
She yanked him to his feet and I scuttled up his pant leg, trying to keep out of Justine’s line of sight. She walked him over to her car, guiding his walk with her voice, opened the door, pushed his head down and shoved him into the back seat beside Emilia, who sat quietly with her hands cuffed behind her back. It looked like Justine was single handedly going to round up all the majors before I even got started. I scuttled up to Malcolm’s shoulder and was pleased to see that my purse still hung from his arm, but before I scuttled out of sight again, Emilia began to scream.
She went straight into panic mode and flailed around the tight space of the backseat then performed contortionist moves that allowed her to somehow bring her cuffed hands down under her legs to the forefront of her body. She grabbed at Malcolm’s jacket partially ripping the sleeve from the its join in an attempt to get rid of me.
In the
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