The Final Catch: Book 2: See Jane Hex (The Tarot Sorceress Series) (3 page)

To my surprise Emilia hurried away to the back room. Where, Maisie informed me, there was a mirror in the bathroom. The hairspray stuff really worked. In a moment I, too, became filled with the urge to look in a mirror, and began to follow Emilia, but Maisie grabbed me by my wrist. She grinned so hard I thought she might bust a cheek dimple. Clearly Emi and I were keeping Maisie amused.

“You've got the idea, Jane. Don’t use the spray on yourself at the same time you spray a major. Or you’ll be looking in mirrors together.”

“Why are you sending Ms White belt with me?” I pointed over my shoulder with my thumb in Emi’s direction. “She's way more dangerous than any black belt. She doesn't know what she's doing.” I was still really angry about my purse.

“She’s scarier than you may think, and I don't want Devon robbing you of my cash.”

“Will this spray work on Devon?

“Spray him in the eyes. It stings like hell.”

“Good to know, but isn’t that kind of nasty? I mean isn’t he your sidekick and all? Anyway, why don’t you just do an e-transfer yourself?”

“Electronic trails. I want as few trails as possible,” she said.

Maisie went over to the counter where my purse sat with no handles.  She retrieved the handles from the floor and pressed the handles to the purse and chanted. “Quick fix, make it stick, works like magic crazy glue, bond together just like new.”

I hurried over to have a look. The handles seemed to be back together with the rest of the purse.  I swung the purse around for effect and knocked a lovely empty perfume bottle from the shelf. It, of course, smashed to the floor. Maisie gave me a killer look. “That – was a Swarovski! You break it, you buy it. Store policy,” she said.

The nerve, I thought, her minion cuts my purse up and then when I check to make sure it’s fixed as good as new and accidentally break her store bauble she gets all Cujo on me. For some reason I got sarcastic with her and imitated Maisie’s voice and the little poem she had recited to fix my purse. I recited the poem to the broken bottle on the floor.

“Quick fix, make it stick, works like magic crazy glue, blah, blah, blah.”  I thought I was funny, but when I looked at Maisie she looked extremely annoyed. But the storm in her eyes cleared immediately when we both heard a very happy tinkling sound, a sound worthy of a Disney fairy, come from the broken glass on the floor.

Together, we looked down at the smashed bottle and before our eyes we watched as the bottle magically repaired itself. Unfortunately, the lid remained shattered and I wondered if that was because I’d finished Maisie’s chant with blah, blah, blah instead of the correct words. “Not bad,” I said, hoping to elevate the moment, feeling quite proud that I was able to imitate Maisie’s sleight of hand.

Maisie gave me a careful reassessing look. If I felt uncomfortable with her stormy angry looks, I reeeaaally didn’t like the way
that look
made me feel.  It was time for me to get on with this charade. I noticed that she actually hadn’t put away the box full of the beautifully, sparkly and jeweled canisters of hairspray. I picked up two more; after all, a girl can never have too much hairspray. I dropped them into my purse, did a quick purse handle check by hefting the new weight in my bag and looked at Maisie. I held my purse out to her. “This purse gonna be big enough for the pile of cash I'm bringing back?”

Maisie’s little bank job wasn’t t so bad after all. The teller inside Koldwell counted out hundred dollar bills to me for a long time. A huge line up waited patiently behind me. They all waited for the teller to finish counting, even a Sikh police woman stood in line waiting! I guess cops needed money too, but why don’t they open another wicket, damn banks are so cheap.

Emilia’s sat in a chair near the exit. I’d convinced her to leave all but one sword back in the shop. I didn’t see it, so I guessed that she placed it on the floor, or put it somewhere discrete. I can’t believe that police woman didn’t check out her weapon, but I did tell Emi not to be obvious, banks don’t take kindly to any kind of weapon.

I’m sure if that policewoman saw the sword she’d confiscate it. That’s fine by me. It can’t be legal to walk around with a sword, and if it was, I still didn’t think Emilia should walk around in public all sworded up.

Then, Devon walked in, hoodie up, backpack in hand, and he pulled out his toy gun, the same one he used on me in the back of the shop only two days ago.

Was he nuts?

“Reach for the sky, peons,” he said, as if he were Johnny Depp in a pirate movie. I nearly laughed. That was almost exactly the same line he used on me in Maisie’s shop. Still I couldn’t help but admire how strong and in charge he looked. I hoped he didn’t get killed. I gave the female cop a quick eyeball. Cool and steady. She checked him out.  Maybe I’ll have a glass of wine with Devon once this all blew over. I’ve got to admit, at times the guy is my kind of crazy. That is if the cop didn’t blow him away first.

“I said, reach for the sky peons!” This time he yelled it out.  The teller stopped counting hundreds. There were still two stacks to be counted. I reached in and swept them down into my purse, and the teller didn’t even notice. They were mine anyway, but I gotta say I felt positively ‘Bonnie and Clyde’ for a smidgen of a moment while I collected the rest of Maisie’s money.

The people all looked sleepy, as they slowly began to put up their hands. The tension in the bank became thick; I don’t think anyone wanted to make a move.

Then a mother grabbed her child and put the kid behind her. An old guy on a cane began shaking so badly, I thought he’d fold like an origami, but he managed to slowly pick his way over to some chairs and eventually sat down.

A big body-builder type swore up and down like he was practicing his singing scales, but he never made a move. He stood there swearing, then he muttered, really low, almost into his shirt and soon enough it rose into a crescendo of expletives. I heard him say, “Not again, effing banks.”  I guess he’d been robbed before.

Beside me another guy had one of those walking sticks that he unraveled like ninja nunchuks, and the stick became a stool. He sat on it and looked patient. 

The rest of the crowd stood where they were, arms in the air, limp tree branches waiting to be picked clean of valuables, like an orchard at harvest time. 

I was pretty sure only I knew that Devon’s gun was a toy. With his gun out, he walked to the front of the line. He grinned at me and winked, and I felt weak in the knees.  My only terror came from my fear of being associated with him and this stupid robbery, at the same time I felt my heart rush, in a crazy, unexplainable moment of attraction.

Then he shoved me out of his way and pointed the gun at the teller.

“Just the big bills,” he said to her.

The teller looked at me! 

I nodded at her.
Yes, go ahead give him the big bills!

“Hey, sexy,” he said to me.

Nooo.
Don’t talk to me.

The teller then looked at Devon. Her voice barely got above a whisper.  “I don’t have any big bills. She’s got them all.” 

Crap
, she looked at me again. Thanks, lady, for throwing me under the bus. I thought Devon was going to turn to me and ask for more money, but he made a little gesture with his gun at my Gucci. Then he turned back to the wicket and reached through the wicket’s tiny little opening for shoving things through and managed to grab a handful of what little cash remained on her counter.

He turned back to me -- grabbed my purse from my fingers and swiftly shoved it into his backpack.

The snap of a gun holster brought me to my senses.

From the corner of my eye I saw the female cop stride to the front of my line with her weapon drawn!

“Stop! Police!” She barked out at Devon.

Everything seemed to happen in slow-mo.

Once upon a time that cop was way back at the end of the teller lineup but in two giant steps she was nearly on top of us, so close I read her name tag. Justine Daliday.

Good name for a cop, I thought.

While all eyes remained focused on Devon and the cop, no one took any notice of Emilia until it was too late.

Emilia, with her sword whizzing at full tilt, got to Devon before the cop, how she did that I wasn’t sure, but she came at him swinging – and worst of all – she hip-checked the cop out of the way.

I’m not exactly sure what happened next, but I’m certain the bank’s people will play it back on their security cameras for a long time coming. Emilia, about to bring her sword down on Devon, bumped Justine backwards. Justine went for a little spin-or-rama until she recovered her balance, her eyes wide and bugged out. 

While Justine recovered and spun around with weapon in hand, Devon, about to be sliced, diced and skewered, waved a quick hand at Emilia, like a windshield wiper.

That’s when things went into slower motion.

Emilia’s sword strike at Devon changed direction, and she appeared unable to reverse the new trajectory. Those in the path of the new sword arc weren’t able to get out of the way!

The man sitting on the nunchuk-cane-stool, instantly became two –parts.

OMG!

Then things got back to hyper –speed.

That’s when the screaming and fainting and chaos started.

What a mess.

Devon delighted by the mayhem playing out all around him, grinned wildly, even insanely when he saw his handy work.

All of that was short lived because Justine now had her weapon pointed at Emilia, and I got a really sick, sinking sensation in my gut.

“Drop your weapon!” Her voice was more level than her gun.

“Oh, my god, Emilia. Stop!” I yelled.  I didn’t want to watch Emi get shot.

The cop looked over her shoulder at me. I looked at Emilia who appeared to have frozen in mid-swing. Then the craziest thing happened. Devon came over to me and said, “Come on honey. We don't have time for cleanup.”

“I'm not going with you!” I said, horrified, as all eyes were on me! He leaned in really close to my ear. I heard him lick his lips.

“I got Maisie's money,” he said and hefted the well worn and frayed camo-backpack a little.

“Screw it,” I said to all watching the drama.

“Yeah, let's.” Suddenly he seemed like the creep I knew him to be.

He grabbed me by the hand with a grip worthy of a pit bull. I resisted and before Devon dragged me anywhere Justine took aim at him. “Drop your weapon,” she said to him. Her tone made
me
want to drop a weapon but I didn’t have one. By now someone had either called for reinforcement or pushed a panic button because I heard sirens getting louder somewhere outside. Devon pointed his gun at my head and a gasp went up throughout the bank. Then he pulled the trigger and three people screamed and one lady began crying. The flag from Devon’s gun popped out. It still read: BANG.

Devon began running and pulled me right after him.

Justine fired her weapon, but her shot missed and hit a painting on the far wall.

There was a lot more screaming and shrieking.

“Stop!” Justine yelled. But there was no stopping.

Devon attempted to run past Justine, but she tripped him and jumped him. He had to let me go. They tumbled and tumbled. Justine got hold of Devon’s hoodie, but he wiggled free of it. He grabbed me again and pulled me after him -- me in one hand, his backpack in the other, we sprinted for the exit. I heard Justine cursing --

“Wiry little bastard.”

When Devon and I reached the bank’s front door, it was locked.

He cursed.

I looked back to Justine to see if she had her weapon leveled on us, but she was searching Devon’s hoodie pockets, looking for his ID, I guess, and she found it. “I’ve got your bus pass, asshole,” she yelled down to the other end of the bank. “Devon Raker!” she shouted his name. That got Devon’s attention for a minute.

He hissed at her!

Meanwhile, Emilia, I noticed, had made her way to the bank’s front exit ahead of us. She’d concealed herself behind a patch of potted trees planted for decoration in the waiting area. I kept quiet, inwardly cheering for Emilia to bust us free. While Justine checked out the rest of Devon’s hoodie, Emilia saw her opportunity to get away. She simply turned the lock on the front door, but Justine stopped her.  

“Hey!” Justine shouted in such a way that we all froze in our spots. “Nobody leaves the bank, especially you, Zoro. Lock that door!”

While I chuckled at Emi’s new nick name, Zoro chose to ignore Justine’s command and hurried out the front door, with Devon on her heels. Justine, however, was quite the athlete. She moved from the back of the bank to the front door at Olympic speed. She was right behind Emilia, who was right behind Devon, and I was right behind all three of them.

*

Outside the bank Justine was still in hot pursuit of Emilia! She had her gun out again!

Devon hid behind a street lamp and when I ran by he grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me down between the cars parked in the street.

“I'll shoot if I have to,” Justine yelled after Emi.

Emi stopped. She turned to face Justine.

While Emilia and Justine were getting to know each other, Devon took that moment to have me and him creep over into a nearby bush, a boxwood bush sheared into the shape of a penguin.  I hate boxwood it always smells like cat pee (sorry, Sia).

From behind the boxwood, we watched Justine’s take down of Emilia.

“Don't shoot. We've got to find Jane. Devon's got her hostage,” Emilia said, calmly.

“Hostage?” Justine  kept her gun steady and leveled on Emi.

Emilia nodded. “Yeah.”

“Give up the sword. You're a hazard.”

Emilia looked offended by the comment. Then instead of handing over her sword like she should have, Emilia said something really crazy, “Sword beats gun any day.”

Justine laughed and held her gun on Emi. “Sure. Whatever you say. I'll keep my gun.”

But Emilia wouldn’t shut-up. “See that guy on the corner smoking a cigarette? Watch this.”

Suddenly the situation had turned into a pissing contest.

In a crazy martial arts blur, Emilia pulled out the sheathed sword, did a couple of martial arts Kung Fu steps and threw the sword like a spinning missile, all before Officer Day (for short) fired a shot. The sword spun forever and ever, making a metal singing sound. I wanted it to hit the lamp post or the side of the building, anything to make it stop, but even from my crouched position behind the boxwood penguin; it was obvious that unstoppable weapon was on a mission.

It flew at the unsuspecting smoker like a heat seeking missile and severed his head which fell from his shoulders like a ball of cheese that rolled off a table, hitting the ground with a sickening thud.

I stood up and stepped out of the bushes, Devon right beside me, both of us craned our necks to see what happened next.

People on the street responded slowly, in disbelief.

A pair of young lovers, teens really, pulled out their cells and began videoing the scene. It would probably be up on Facebook in under a second. In what seemed to be a delayed reaction, a man and a woman began to scream, the woman yelled, “Oh my god, oh my god,” over and over.

Then the severed head did something hideous.  It rolled.

I guess the sidewalk was slanted because the head did a slow wobble over the curb and into the street, coming to a stop face down on a sewer grate. A man that screamed kept yelling, “Do something! First aid, does anyone have first aid?”

A woman walking her dog dropped the dog’s leash and froze in horror as the dog hurried over to sniff the head in its ear! By now the flow of blood from the torso had created a Salvador Dali painting, surreal and riveting. Horrified by it all, I couldn’t stop myself from watching as the deep ruby red river headed straight for the sewer grate the head was looking down into.

Ugh! The dog began to lap up blood.

Then Justine’s voice brought me back to reality. “Hazard!” she screamed at Emilia, who was now weaponless. Justine grabbed and arrested Emi all in one action. “You're under arrest for the murder in the bank, and that man on the corner.” She pulled handcuffs from her hip.

Before Emi protested --and in one of those moments when all time seems to stop -- Emilia and I noticed a second pair of cuffs appear at Justine's hip.