Look Alive Twenty-Five (Stephanie Plum #25)(55)

I ran to the window and watched Ranger vault over the fire escape railing. He grabbed the bottom of the railing with one hand, hung for a beat, and dropped to the ground. Tarzan had climbed down the ladder and was only a few steps in front of Ranger. Ranger closed the gap, grabbed Tarzan by the back of his shirt, and threw him to the ground. In seconds, Tarzan was cuffed and back on his feet.

I went back to the bedroom and made sure no one was in the closet, under the bed, or in the bathroom. I closed the window, and closed the door as I left the apartment. Ranger was on the sidewalk, waiting for me, when I came out.

“Nice work,” I said. “You should be the one named Tarzan.”

“It’s been a while since I chased someone down. I spend most of my time behind a desk now.”

It was obvious that he also spent time in the gym because his body was perfect, and he hadn’t broken a sweat capturing Tarzan. My body had to make do with good genes, because I hated the gym. My favored exercise was walking the length of the mall to get to Cinnabon. So far, I was holding my own, but I suspect the future might be ugly.

Ranger loaded Tarzan AKA Santiago AKA Forest Kottel into the back seat of his SUV, and we drove him to the police station. We dumped him off, I got my body receipt, and we went back to the office to turn the receipt in to Connie.

“Thanks,” I said to Ranger. “I couldn’t have captured him on my own. I’m no good at breaking down doors. I can’t jump over fire escape railings. And I probably couldn’t have caught up to him on the ground.”

“You would have done the capture your way,” Ranger said. “You would have told him you were selling Girl Scout cookies, and while he was thinking about Thin Mints and Samoas, Lula would have knocked him over and sat on him.”

“Sometimes it works,” I said.

“I have to get back to the office,” Ranger said. “You can come back with me, or I can send one of my men to follow you around.”

“Send one of your men. I want to go after Darren Boot.”

Lula was sitting on the couch when I walked into the bonds office. I gave the body receipt to Connie, and I took a piece of the pizza that was on her desk.

“I have to find Darren Boot,” I said.

“I’ll come with you,” Lula said. “Where’s this Darren Boot live?”

“By the junkyard. We’ve been there a couple times. He lives with his mother.”

“Now I remember. They’re the ones with the mushroom farm. And the mother dresses up like Minnie Mouse.”





CHAPTER TWENTY


LULA DROVE THE length of Stark Street, passed the junkyard, and after a half mile we saw the rusted mailbox with boot painted on it. The rutted dirt driveway led to a bedraggled bungalow that was surrounded by thigh-high grass.

Lula parked, and we got out of the Firebird and set out on the narrow path to the front door. A big white chicken ran across the path in front of Lula.

“Holy heck,” Lula said. “What the hell?”

All around us we could hear grass rustling and chickens clucking.

“This is freaking me out,” Lula said. “I only like supermarket chickens. The naked ones with no feathers. And I prefer them shrink-wrapped and air-chilled and previously fed non-GMO shit.”

I preferred them as frozen and breaded nuggets or else cooked by my mother.

“Watch where you’re walking,” I said. “You don’t want to step on a chicken or whatever it leaves behind.”

“That’s a disgusting thought,” Lula said. “I got on my open-toe fashionista gladiator shoes.”

We reached the rickety front stoop, and I knocked on the door. Minnie Mouse answered on the second knock.

“Mrs. Boot,” I said. “Perhaps you remember me. I’m Stephanie Plum.”

Darlene Boot was sixty-seven years old, five feet two inches tall, and had a shape like an apple. Skinny legs encased in black tights. Short curly gray hair held in place by a red and white polka-dotted Minnie Mouse bow with mouse ears. The dress was straight from vintage Disney. Black top and fluffy red skirt with more white polka dots. Short puffy sleeves. Finished off with bright yellow rubber boots that I’m sure were excellent for walking behind chickens.

“Oh dear,” she said. “I suppose you’re here to repossess Darren.”

“Is he home?”

“No. I’m so sorry. He had some errands to run.”

“What sort of errands?” I asked.

“He was going to the feed store. It’s somewhere across the river. And then he was going to gas up the truck and get some beer. The chickens like a little beer now and again.”

“I see you still got the Minnie Mouse thing going,” Lula said.

Darlene smiled. “Sometimes I wear one of the princess dresses, but I like Minnie the best.”

“Yeah,” Lula said. “You can’t go wrong with Minnie. Do you know you got a lot of chickens running around out there in your front yard? What’s with that?”

“It’s our new business,” Darlene said. “The mushrooms didn’t work out, so we’re trying chickens. Would you like to come in and have a cup of tea while you wait for Darren?”

We stepped inside and froze. Wire cages filled with roosting chickens were stacked everywhere, and a bunch of chickens were meandering around, pecking at the furniture.