Page 76 - Labelle Gramercy, On the Case

Thrown for a Loss

lot of difficulty getting another job. Labelle Gramercy had not run
after Newt. At first I figured she knew he had too great a head start.
Then I saw her grab the Unijock shopping bag she had left behind
the bench. That seemed totally out of character. But a second later
she was swinging her old shoes, tied together by the laces, around her
head like a bolo. She let them go and I watched them helicopter
down the escalator well in a perfect arc, snagging Newt’s left ankle
not five feet past the last tread. He went down in a heap, crying and
moaning.
Labelle came over to me. “I’ll send your cuffs back tomorrow,
Officer Weller. Thanks for your help. Please ask Mr. Sachs to save
the contents of all the trash receptacles in the area I designated to
him. A police technician will be by to pick them up within an hour.
You may release all the other people on this floor.”
And with that she walked down the frozen moving staircase as
lightly as a cat toward a mouse whose neck was already broken.

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