Outside the Berryman house, Earl and the four clowns crept up the driveway behind a row of azalea bushes. They didn’t do a very good job of being discreet, though, since their brightly colored outfits could be seen down the block. And Hats’s size 30 shoes squeaked every time he took a step, and he couldn’t keep his three-foot top hat from poking above the bushes no matter how far down he squatted.
“Keep it down, would ya?” Jackie the Grump said to Hats.
“I’m just walking,” Hats whined. “It’s the shoes that won’t keep quiet.”
“You’re going to give us away,” Jackie said. “This is supposed to be an ambush over here.”
“What do you want me to do, take them off? I’m not going in there barefoot.”
“Walk on your hands or something. You’re going to get us all killed, ya mook.”
“Forget about it. They’ll just think it’s a dog with a squeak toy.”
Spotty turned back. “Quit clownin’ around, the both of yas.”
When they arrived at the top of the driveway, they heard a group of men speaking with French accents. They were right inside the living room.
Vinnie Blue Nose looked at Spotty. “Send in the scouts.”
The grubby clown nodded in compliance. He opened his coat, and five cockroaches crawled up his torso and into the palm of his hand.
“Luigi, Donny, Carmella, Carlito, and Little Alphanso,” Captain Spotty whispered to his pet cockroaches. “I need you to go inside and check the place out. Then report back to me.”
The roaches wiggled their antennae at him and then buzzed their wings, flying across the yard toward the open window. As they waited, Hats Rizzo stepped back and forth, squeaking his shoes.
“Why are you still squeaking over there?” Jackie whispered. “We’re not even walking anymore.”
“I got to take a leak,” Hats whined, squeaking back and forth.
“Then go take a leak.”
Hats didn’t argue. He unzipped his fly and stepped toward the other side of the garage door. As he took his noisy steps, the Frenchmen went to the window.
“Do you hear that?” asked one of the French clowns. Earl couldn’t see his face through the window, but he could hear him. It wasn’t the same man he’d spoken to on the phone.
“Hear what?” asked another Frenchman.
“I don’t know. It sounds like a dog with a squeak toy.”
The clowns kept quiet as they listened to the Frenchmen—all of them except for Hats, who emptied his bladder in loud splashes against the concrete.
“What dog? I see no dog.”
“It’s there. I can hear it taking a leak.”
“Well, don’t let it inside. I’m allergic to the rotten mutts.”
When the cockroaches returned to Spotty, the grubby clown had them crawl into his hand, and then he put them up to his ear.
“Uh-huh,” Spotty said, as if the bugs were actually talking to him. “Yeah. Are you sure? Really? Shit.”
“What’s wrong?” asked Vinnie Blue Nose.
Spotty looked at Earl. The expression on his face wasn’t good.
“What?” Earl asked. “Is my family okay?”
“Sorry, Doc,” Spotty said. “They’re not in there.”
“What do you mean they’re not in there? Where are they?”
“I don’t know. Somewhere else.”
“Are they dead?”
“We don’t know that for sure,” Vinnie said. “We need to take one of them alive for questioning.” He turned at Spotty. “How many of them are there?”
“Six.” Spotty ordered his roaches to form a map of Earl’s house on the garage door. He pointed at the area of the living room by the front entrance. “Two here.” Then he pointed at the back of the living room with the couches and television. “Two here.” Then he pointed at the kitchen. “And two here.”
Earl was surprised at how detailed the cockroaches were with their map of his house. They even had baby cockroaches positioned where the Frenchmen were standing.
“Why so many?” Jackie asked. “They need six guys just to take out one vanilla vet?”
“Maybe they know we’re coming,” Vinnie said. “Let’s not take any chances.” He pointed at Spotty and the Grump. “You two wait here. I’m taking Hats and the doc around back. Once you see the smoke, come in blasting.”
“You got it,” Spotty said.
When Hats Rizzo was finally finished taking his piss, Vinnie waved him over and said, “Take those damn shoes off and follow me.”
“I’m not going barefoot,” Hats argued.
“You don’t want to take them off, fine.” Vinnie pulled out a switchblade and stabbed it into the sides of the noisy shoes. A frown grew on Hats’s face as the air oozed out.
“You ruined them.” Hats stepped back and forth, but they no longer squeaked. They only made a soft whooshing sound. “You owe me a new pair of shoes.”
“Shut up and get moving,” Vinnie said.
Since it was his house, Earl led the way to the backyard. He unlocked the gate, waved them through, and tried not to rustle the leaves on the ground as they hiked along the side of the house.
“I’m serious. These things don’t come cheap. I had to get them custom-made and everything.” Hats wouldn’t stop complaining. Earl wished Vinnie hadn’t used the switchblade to solve the problem. Squeaky shoes were much quieter than a whining Hats Rizzo.