Skeeter grinned. Gotcha!
The handcuffs he slipped out of his pocket weren’t real. He’d picked them up cheap from a station outfitter’s bin of discount toys. But they were functional enough for Skeeter’s purposes. He slid forward between the Californian and the pickpocket just as the latter slipped the wallet into his own jacket. Skeeter tapped the thief on the shoulder. “Hi, there!”
And clicked the cuffs around the guy’s wrists before he could blink.
“Hey! What the—”
“Security!” Skeeter bawled, grabbing the guy’s jacket lapel. “Got a pickpocket over here! Say, mister,” Skeeter got the victim’s attention, “this guy just lifted your wallet.”
The tourist gasped, hand flying to his extremely empty pocket. “Good God! I’ve been robbed! Why, you sneaking—”
Security arrived before the irate Californian could take a swing at the struggling pickpocket. “What’s going on?” The uniformed security guard sported a bruise down one cheek from the previous day’s riot.
“Caught this guy lifting a tourist’s wallet,” Skeeter explained. “It’s in his front jacket pocket. Oh, those cuffs are toys, by the way. Just thought you might want to know.”
Skeeter indulged a grin at the look on all three faces, then melted into the crowd, leaving the stunned security officer to deal with the irate tourist and the even more irate pickpocket. He could hear the latter howling his outrage all the way through Victoria Station. Skeeter chuckled. This was almost as much fun as picking pockets, himself. More, maybe. Less risk involved, certainly. He was still chuckling when Kit caught up, grinning fit to crack his face.