Look Alive Twenty-Five (Stephanie Plum #25)(56)

“These are our egg producers,” Darlene said. “We’re real proud of them.”

“What about the outside chickens?” Lula asked, keeping her eyes on the meandering chickens.

“We sort of lost control over them,” Darlene said. “We thought it would be nice to let them go free-range, but then we couldn’t find the eggs in the grass, and they kept multiplying. I guess you might say they’re feral chickens now.”

There was a bloodcurdling squawk from the front yard.

“What the heck was that?” Lula asked. “We also got some feral cats,” Darlene said. “Big ones.” Especially Miss Kitty, Suzy, and Apple Puff.

“Maybe we’ll come back some other time,” I said to Darlene, giving her my card. “Tell Darren we were here, and we’ll be happy to give him a ride to the courthouse, so he can get his court date rescheduled.”

“That’s real nice of you,” Darlene said. “I’ll pass it along.”

Lula and I stood on the stoop and looked at the path to her car. There was some blood and feathers on the path, but no chicken.

“Do you think it’s safe to walk there?” Lula asked me. “What if that feral cat is still hungry, and he’s lurking in the grass? Or what if the chickens are planning a counterattack?”

“Like a chicken army?”

“Exactly! Chickens aren’t smart. They got a brain the size of a pea. They could attack us by mistake.”

“I’ll chance it,” I said. “I’m pretty sure I could take on a chicken.”

“I saw you get attacked by a goose once, and you were screaming like a little girl.”

“That was a goose. Entirely different.”

We started down the path, and a big red rooster rushed out of the grass at Lula and pecked her big toe. Lula shrieked, put her foot to the rooster, and punted it about twenty feet in the air.

“I’ve been pecked!” she yelled. “I’ve been pecked.” She drew her gun, and fired off a shot.

“What are you shooting at?” I asked her.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Reflex action.”

I looked down at her foot. “I don’t see any blood.”

“He caught me by surprise. Lucky thing for him that he flew away and didn’t get shot.”

“He didn’t fly away. You kicked him about a quarter of a mile. He might have done some fluttering on the descent.”

A Rangeman SUV was idling behind Lula’s Firebird. I didn’t recognize the man at the wheel, but I waved and he waved back.

“It’s strange not to be heading for the deli now,” Lula said. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with myself.”

“I’m going back to the office. I want to do some research on Leonard Skoogie and Victor Waggle.”

“Sounds good to me,” Lula said. “I’m gonna do some research on my ancestry. I might sign up for one of those DNA kits they advertise on television. It would be fun to know more about my roots. Do you know all about your ancestors?”

“My father’s side is Italian as far back as we can trace. His relatives were all farmers. Not especially successful. Always too many kids and not enough land. My great-grandparents Plumeri immigrated when they were in their twenties. They came over as indentured servants. The name was shorted on Ellis Island. My other great-grandparents met after they were already in America. My great-grandmother came with her parents. My great-grandfather stowed away on a boat and was arrested when it docked in Perth Amboy. I’m told there was some bribery involved, and he managed to walk away.”

“What about on your mother’s side?”

“Hungarian, mostly. There might have been some border crossings. My great-grandfather Mazur deserted from the army. We aren’t sure which one. Apparently, it was a topic no one would discuss. He hopped a boat and came to America. My great-grandmother was pregnant at the time and unmarried. The story goes that she followed my great-grandfather and put a gun to his head to marry her.”

“And they lived happily ever after?”

“Grandma Mazur said my grandfather told her they fought like cats and dogs.”

“See, that’s what I’m talking about. You know all kinds of interesting things. All I know is that my momma was a ’ho, and I followed in her footsteps. Just about all the women in my family were professional. I don’t know anything past that.”

Lula parked in front of the bonds office, and the Rangeman SUV pulled in behind her. I waved at Ranger’s man on my way into the office, and he gave me a thumbs-up.

“It’s like you’re the president or something,” Lula said. “It’s a wonder they don’t follow you into the bathroom and check behind the shower curtain.”

Connie was standing at her desk with her purse in her hand.

“You got here just in time,” she said. “I was going to lock up. Vinnie is at physical therapy, and I have to go downtown to bond someone out.”

Physical therapy was code for a nooner. Or in this case an afternooner.

“Is it okay if I use your computer?” I asked.

“Sure,” Connie said. “I should be about an hour. I’ll be back to close up.”

Lula settled onto the couch with her iPad, and I went to Connie’s desk. I ran Skoogie through a couple programs but didn’t turn up anything new.