I grabbed my shoulder bag and did a fast inventory. My stun gun was registering low battery. No point taking it with me. Pepper spray was empty. Throw it away. That left my gun and Pip’s bottle. I spun the barrel on the gun. Two bullets. Better than none, right? I didn’t want to use my gun anyway. Still, I should make a note to buy more bullets.

I shrugged into a hooded sweatshirt, locked my apartment, and ran to the car. I stopped at Cluck-in-a-Bucket on my way to the office and got two giant-size buckets of extra crispy chicken. Hold the coleslaw and biscuits.

Connie and Lula were already milling around on the sidewalk when I arrived. Lula was holding the box of stink bombs, and Connie had the rocket launcher and two tote bags. I parked behind Connie’s Camry and realized I was going to have to make a car decision. If we took the Mercedes, I’d have Rangeman backing me up, but I’d also have witnesses to the whole ridiculous scheme. Push for the Camry, I thought. Best not to have witnesses. I got out with my chicken buckets and beeped the SUV locked.

SEVENTEEN

LULA PERKED UP at the sight of the chicken. “That smells like extra crispy,” she said. “It’s my favorite.”

“I bought it for Mr. Jingles,” I told her. “We’re going to use it to lure him away from the money.”

“Mr. Jingles won’t mind one less piece,” Lula said.

“You’re the one who’s going to be leading him away with the chicken,” I told her. “You don’t want to smell like extra crispy.”

“In that case, you got a point,” Lula said. “I’ll pass on the chicken.”

“I think we should take the Camry,” I said to Connie. “It’s the least memorable of the cars.”

“I agree,” Connie said.

We put all the equipment in the backseat with me, and Connie headed for Chopper’s apartment. She drove down Cotter Street, pausing in front of the plumbing supply warehouse. Lights were off. No cars parked in front. Locked up for the night. We looked up at Chopper’s windows. No sign of activity. Connie drove around the block and turned into the alley. She sat at idle behind Chopper’s apartment, and we all took a couple deep breaths. I stuck my gun in my jeans, and I took one of Connie’s tote bags.

“Here’s what I think we should do,” I said. “Connie will stay in the car for a fast getaway, and Lula and I will go into the apartment. I gather up the money, and Lula keeps Mr. Jingles busy with the chicken. Simple, right?”

“Yeah, as long as Mr. Jingles likes extra crispy,” Lula said.

Lula and I got out of the Camry and scurried across the yard and up the stairs. I found the key, opened the door, and stuck my head in.

“Hello?” I called.

No answer. Also no sound of alligator yawning, alligator running, or alligator sniffing out food.