Page 5 of S.O.S. Billboard

Before Officer Stick-up-his-ass could answer, one of the approaching cops called out.

“What’s going on, Murphy?”

Murphy tossed her credentials to the newcomer when he got close enough. “We have a situation, Grady. This woman, Karen O’Shea,purportedlyan officer with the Opeloosa PD…”

She wanted to growl. He’d called her by her first name, which nobody without a death-wish ever dared, and on top of that, he was questioning her cred?

“…thinks she’s still in Louisiana,” he huffed. “She had this guy down and zip-tied without calling for help.”

“Uh, if I may?” She raised her hand.

“Go ahead,” Grady assented.

“I actuallydidcall for security before I made my running tackle.”

“She did,” put in one of the bystanders. “I have it on video.”

“And?” skeptical-cop asked.

O’Shea shrugged. “And nobody showed up, so I had to act fast or he would have gotten away with my shit.”Yes, she’d sworn, because she’d just about had it. Crossing her arms over her chest, she waited to see what else the cynical prick had to say.

“Again. This is not your city. It’s not even your state. You can’t just run around willy-nilly taking the law into your own hands. I—”

“Murphy?” The cop who’d remained silent so far, spoke up, and if his face was any indication, there was no love lost between him and good-ol’ Murph.

Murphy’s jaw tensed. “Yeah, Hanlon?”

“I think we might be making a mountain out of a molehill here. This guy,” he pointed to the thief, “is obviously not hurt, so how about we take everyone’s statements and sort things out?”

Finally.Somebody with some brains.

“Thank you, Officer Hanlon,” O’Shea let her appreciation show in her face. “And in order to verify my identity and good character, might I make one phone call?”

She knew Brigid was probably on duty and perhaps unavailable, but there was always someone answering the phone at the SOS office. She wanted to snicker at the thought of Officer Tight-ass going up against Mizzay.

“Of course,” Hanlon replied, handing her back the ID folder he’d taken from Grady. “Your credentials look to be in order.” He sent a look to Murphy as if daring him to disagree, but he must have held seniority or something, because Murphy backed down.

“Thanks.” O’Shea stuffed her folder in her pouch, then took out her phone.

She hit the number for SOS.

“Songen Operational Systems, how may I help you.” Mizzay’s chirpy voice came over the line, and O’Shea grinned. She loved this feisty woman.

“Hey, Mizzay. It’s O’Shea, Brigid’s—”

“I know who you are, doll,” Mizzay cut her off with a squeal. “It’s good to hear from you. I was just talkin’ to Brigid about taking a trip to Louisiana sometime soon to see youze. I was hoping we could go hit some bahs, listen to music, and pound a few back.”

That’s right. Mizzay might be a hair short of five feet, but she’d proven she could drink everyone under the table. Most of her friends hadn’t been walking straight when they’d celebrated Brigid’s rescue and the incarceration of the rotten cops, judge, and town officials who’d made her life hell, but Mizzay had been sober as a judge, and had taken charge to see that they all got home okay.

Brigid filled Mizzay in. “Well, we might just do that right here in Boston if you’re up for it,” O’Shea informed her. “I, uh, came in for a surprise visit, but I’ve run into a little snafu at the airport.”

She could almost hear Mizzay’s backbone snapping straight. “Snafu?” she bit out. “Whatz the problem, doll?”

Right to the point. Another thing to love about Mizzay.

“Well, I was waiting for my luggage to come around on the carousel, when some asshole tried to grab it.” She looked at the officers who were listening. “I called for security, but when no one arrived, I took matters into my own hands and, uh, caught up with the suspect, who might have ended up on the floor with his wrists zipped behind his back.”

There was a chortle. “Good fa you,” Mizzay replied heartily. “Soze you didn’t lose your stuff?”

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