Blahg Blahg Blahg

It was Sunday, the time it happened, the last time it happened. I was sitting in Anabell's Beauty Shop getting my nails done for my radio interview in Atlanta, on Monday morning. She never, I mean never, works on Sunday but I begged, and then I promised to make my supreme lemon pie, and she caved.
He came in out of nowhere. I mean, it's a Sunday, the shop has the big red sign in the window, CLOSED. He peered in past the sign, saw me, hands stuck in a bowl of soapy water, feet propped up on a red plastic chair, sipping a beer, lite beer. Then it happened. He opened the door.
"Uh, Sheriff?"
"Yeah," I set my beer on the wobbly table next to the bowl of soapy water. "What?"
"Um," he stared holes through Anabell's tall beehive. "It's kinda personal."
I sighed and glanced towards Anabell. "Um, girlfriend, would you mind if we...."
She groaned. "I give up my Sunday and now this? Okay, fine, you've got five minutes and then I've gotta paint the nails." His crushed look didn't work. "Oh, please, can the theatrics. Just get done so I can go eat my pie," she grumbled, turned, jerked open the door and slammed it behind her.
"Okay, she's gone. Now what is it?"
"Jakie took my bike again, for the fourth time," allegator tears threatened to erupt.
"Now, none of that. Okay, where is it this time?"
His face brightened, "Down Main Street. He said to bring my best shot, then him and his buddies laughed at me. Can you get it back?"
I looked at my watch. "How far down Main?"
"Just to the alley before Pine."
"Okay," I grabbed my holster, ignored the beer, grasped his skinny nine-year-old arm. "Let's go. I have four and a half minutes left."
"Thanks Sheriff," he giggled sheepishly.
"It's okay Davey. Just,next time."
"Yeah?"
"Stay in the neighborhood with that bike. I can't be shootin' up all the little kids in Stone Mountain, you know." I tried to look grim.
"Okay, mom."