Hardcore Twenty-Four (Stephanie Plum #24)(42)

“He’s God’s creature.”

“Okay. I get that.”

We bowed our heads.

“Dear Lord,” Lula said. “Bless this disgusting swelled-up groundhog and take him into the kingdom of heaven or wherever it is that dead groundhogs are supposed to go. Amen.”

We both made the sign of the cross.

“I would have said more, but I didn’t really know the deceased,” Lula said.

I gave up a sigh. “You said enough. Let’s go.”

“Wait a minute,” Lula said. “You can’t leave him here. He could deface Ranger’s car when you drive over him. He could explode and spray guts all over. And anyways it would be a waste. You should pick it up. You could feed it to Ethel.”

“Are you crazy? I’m not picking it up!”

“Did you bring something else for Ethel to eat?”

“No.”

“Well, then, you should bring her this groundhog. Otherwise you gotta go to the store and get Ethel some more rotisserie chicken.”

I hated to admit it, but feeding the groundhog to Ethel wasn’t an entirely bad idea. I was running out of rotisserie chicken money.

All Rangeman cars are equipped with emergency medical kits. I found disposable gloves for Lula and me, and a Mylar survival blanket we could use to protect the back of the Lexus. Lula and I pulled on gloves and returned to the groundhog. I spread the blanket out on the road and looked at Lula.

“I’ll take the front legs, and you take the rear legs, and we’ll put him on the blanket. Then we can carry him to the car.”

“Ethel better appreciate this,” Lula said. “I wouldn’t do this for just any snake.”

We grabbed the groundhog by his legs and dropped him onto the blanket.

“I think he’s leaking something,” Lula said. “It looks like gravy.”

I gave a shudder and dragged the blanket to the SUV. We trundled the groundhog in, wrapped the blanket around him so no gravy would get on Ranger’s car, and I closed the hatch. I drove about ten feet, and I got a call from Judy Chucci.

“He’s here,” she said. “The idiot is standing on my sidewalk holding a sign that says he loves me.”

“I’m on my way,” I told her. “Try to keep him there.”

I made a U-turn and sped out of Diggery’s neighborhood.

“What about Ethel?” Lula asked. “She’s going to be wondering about breakfast.”

“She has to wait. If I catch Johnny Chucci and bring him in, I can afford rotisserie chicken.”

I cut across the Burg and reached Judy’s street in record time. Her house was a block away, and I could see Johnny standing on the sidewalk with his sign.

“You gotta give him something for being persistent,” Lula said. “Of course, aside from that he’s a nutcase.”

“I’m going to park and approach him. If he runs I’ll go after him. You stay here and make sure he doesn’t circle back and drive away. The silver Honda is parked across the street from Judy’s house.”

“No problem,” Lula said. “I’ll make sure he don’t get near the car.”

I pulled in behind the Honda, and Lula and I got out. Johnny didn’t turn to look. He was waving his sign and watching for Judy to appear at the door. I guess he thought if he stayed there long enough she’d give in and come out. I was halfway across the street when he saw me. Recognition was instant. He dropped the sign and took off. I chased him between the two houses and through several backyards. He was surprisingly fast, hurdling over fences and crashing through hedges. I caught my toe on one of the fences and face-planted. I got up and continued to chase him, but I was far behind. He turned a corner, and by the time I got there he’d disappeared.

I stood still and listened. I didn’t hear footsteps, but someone was breathing heavily not far away. At least I had the satisfaction of knowing he wasn’t in any better shape than me.

“Hey, Johnny,” I yelled. “Let’s talk. I can help you.”

I was at the corner, standing to one side of a shingled bungalow with a small front yard that had been cemented over and painted green. Johnny poked his head out from the other side.

“Go away. I’m not going to jail,” he said.

“It could work out okay. Maybe the judge will be sympathetic, and you’ll get off with community service.”

“No way. I’ll serve time and when I get out, Judy will be married. I’ll never get her back.”

“I don’t think she’s interested in you. I think you should move on.”

“I can’t,” Johnny said. “I love her.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. She’s a stupid obsession. I can’t stop thinking about her.”

“Maybe you need a hobby. Prison might be a good thing. You could take up metalwork or pumping iron.”

I moved toward him, and he jumped away from the house. “No!” he said. “Stay away from me. I have a gun.”

“I don’t see a gun.”

“It’s in my pocket.”

“I want to see it.”

Johnny struggled to get the gun out of his pocket, and BANG! He accidentally shot himself in the foot. He stared openmouthed at his foot for a couple beats, and fainted.