Suckers - J.A. Konrath

Cut to me explaining to the cop why I fired my gun in a populated area, and then me getting
arrested.
With some editing, and the right soundtrack, the footage could be the backbone of a really
good documentary about urban crime, and the amusing social lives of dogs.
I opened up a fresh SanDisk card, put that in the tank, and loaded everything into in a gym
bag, along with a digital camera that could shoot night-vision, a Bionic Ear listening cannon, and
a little wind-up nun that shot sparks out of her eyes. Thusly equipped, I high-tailed it over to the
long term garage, jumped in my stakeout car—an inconspicuous green Chevy El Camino with
yellow racing stripes on the hood—and drove to Jim Drawbridge’s house.
The key to any successful stakeout is three-fold: Food, tunes, and a pot to piss in. The food
should consist of chips and snack cakes. Sugar and carbohydrates jack up the insulin level, which
leads to a heighten sense of awareness, probably. The music should be high energy, like heavy
metal, but don’t include the power ballads. The piss pot can be an old milk jug or thermos. Try to
avoid cellophane potato chip bags, as I’ve learned from experience they tend to leak.
Since I never knew when I’d have to go on a stakeout, I kept my car stocked with everything
I needed. But once I found a suitable vantage point—on the street directly in front of Jim’s
house—I realized I was less stocked than I should have been. I was way low on sugary snacks,
but had a surplus of urine in an old apple juice bottle. Unless it was, perhaps, actually apple
juice. A quick sniff would tell me.
It was urine. And I needed to stop eating asparagus.
I took a moment to muse about the gratuitous amount of bodily fluids that seem to have
come up in this case, and cracked open the door and dumped the piss onto the street, where it
made a foamy little river down the curb and to the sewer drain.
Then I cranked up the Led Zeppelin, licked the crust out of some old Twinkie wrappers, and
waited for Jim to show up.
After half an hour, the coffee needed to be set free, so I filled up half the apple juice bottle.
The secret to zero splatter is aiming for the inside edge, and then squeezing dry rather than
shaking.
After an hour, Mrs. Drawbridge came out of the house and knocked on my window.
“George left before you got here.”
“Do you have any snacks?”
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