“I don’t want new shoes,” I said. “I need too many other things. I need a new gun. Joyce Barnhardt has a bigger gun than me.”

“Ah-ha! Now we’re getting somewhere.”

I sat down and unlaced my Doc Martens. “I saw her in Clara’s today. It was all I could do to keep from choking her.”

“She did you a favor. Your ex-husband was a jerk.”

“She’s evil.”

“She works here, you know. Cosmetics. I saw her doing a makeover when I came in. Had some old lady looking like Lily Munster.”

I took the shoes from the salesman and slid them on.

“Are they wonderful, or what?” Mary Lou said.

“They’re pretty nice, but I can’t shoot anyone with them.”

“You never shoot anyone anyway. Well, okay, maybe once.”

“You think Joyce Barnhardt has purple shoes?”

“I happen to know Joyce Barnhardt has size ten feet and would look like a cow in these shoes.”

I walked over to the mirror at the end of the shoe department and admired the shoes. Eat your heart out, Joyce Barnhardt.

I turned to look at them from the back and slammed into Kenny Mancuso.

He had my arms in an iron grip, and he yanked me flat to his chest. “Surprised to see me?”

I was speechless.

“You’re a real pain in the ass,” he said. “You think I didn’t see you sneaking around in the bushes at Julia’s house? You think I don’t know about you telling her I fucked Denise Barkolowsky?” He gave me a shake that made my teeth clack together. “And now you’ve got this cozy deal going with Spiro, don’t you? The two of you think you’re both so smart.”

“You should let me take you back to court. If Vinnie assigns another bounty hunter he might not be gentle about bringing you in.”

“Haven’t you heard? I’m special. I don’t feel pain. Probably I’m freaking immortal.”

Oh boy.

He flicked his hand, and a knife appeared. “I keep sending you messages, but you aren’t listening,” he said. “Maybe I should cut off your ear. Would that get your attention?”

“You don’t scare me. You’re a coward. You can’t even face up to a judge.” I’d tried this tack before on belligerent FTAs and found it helpful.

“Of course I scare you,” Kenny said. “I’m a scary guy.” The knife flashed out and slashed into my sleeve. “Now your ear,” Kenny said, hanging tight to my jacket.

My pocketbook, with my bounty hunter paraphernalia, was on the seat beside Mary Lou, so I did what any intelligent, unarmed woman would do. I opened my mouth and screamed at the top of my lungs, startling Kenny enough to screw up his aim, so that I lost some hair but kept my ear.

“Jesus,” Kenny said. “You’re freaking embarrassing me.” He shoved me into a shoe display, gave a backward skip, and took off.

I scrambled to my feet and charged after him, blasting through handbags and junior wear, operating on a surplus of adrenaline and a shortage of common sense. I could hear Mary Lou and the shoe clerk running hard behind me. I was swearing at Kenny and bitching about being in pursuit in goddamn platform heels when I slammed into an old lady at the cosmetics counter and almost knocked her on her ass.