Seven Up (Stephanie Plum 7) - Page 3
“Think they did the nasty?”
I almost ran the car up on the sidewalk. “No! Yuck!”
“Just asking,” Lula said.
DeChooch lives in a small brick duplex. Seventy-something Angela Marguchi and her ninety-something mother live in one half of the house, and DeChooch lives in the other. I parked in front of the DeChooch half, and Lula and I walked to the door. I was wearing the vest, and Lula was wearing a stretchy animal-print top and yellow stretch pants. Lula is a big woman and tends to test the limits of Lycra.
“You go ahead and see if he's dead,” Lula said. “And then if it turns out he's not dead, you let me know and I'll come kick his ass.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Hunh,” she said, lower lip stuck out. “You think I couldn't kick his ass?”
“You might want to stand to the side of the door,” I said. “Just in case.”
“Good idea,” Lula said, stepping aside. “I'm not afraid or anything, but I'd hate to get bloodstains on this top.”
I rang the bell and waited for an answer. I rang a second time. “Mr. DeChooch?” I yelled.
Angela Marguchi stuck her head out her door. She was half a foot shorter than me, white-haired and bird-boned, a cigarette rammed between thin lips, eyes narrowed from smoke and age. “What's all this racket?”
“I'm looking for Eddie.”
She looked more closely and her mood brightened when she recognized me. “Stephanie Plum. Goodness, haven't seen you in a while. I heard you were pregnant by that vice cop, Joe Morelli.”
“A vicious rumor.”
“What about DeChooch,” Lula asked Angela. “He been around?”
“He's in his house,” Angela said. “He never goes anywhere anymore. He's depressed. Won't talk or nothing.”
“He's not answering his door.”
“He don't answer his phone, either. Just go in. He leaves the door unlocked. Says he's waiting for someone to come shoot him and put him out of his misery.”
“Well, that isn't us,” Lula said. “ 'Course if he was willing to pay for it I might know someone . . .”
I carefully opened Eddie's door and stepped into the foyer. “Mr. DeChooch?”
“Go away.”
The voice came from the living room to my right. The shades were drawn and the room was dark. I squinted in the direction of the voice.
“It's Stephanie Plum, Mr. DeChooch. You missed your court date. Vinnie is worried about you.”
“I'm not going to court,” DeChooch said. “I'm not going anywhere.”
I moved farther into the room and spotted him sitting in a chair in the corner. He was a wiry little guy with white rumpled hair. He was wearing an undershirt and boxer shorts and black socks with black shoes.
“What's with the shoes?” Lula asked.
DeChooch looked down. “My feet got cold.”
“How about if you finish getting dressed and we take you to reschedule,” I said.
“What are you, hard of hearing? I told you, I'm not going anywhere. Look at me. I'm in a depression.”
“Maybe you're in a depression on account of yon haven't got any pants on,” Lula said. “Sure would make me feel happier if I didn't have to worry about seeing your Mr. Geezer hanging out of your boxer shorts.”
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