Plum Spooky (Stephanie Plum 14.50)

“Not my monkey. And I don’t know. Just one of the many weird-?ass things happening in the Barrens. Are you folks tourists?”

“No,” I said. “We’re bounty hunters.”

He gave a hoot of laughter, and I was able to count his teeth. He had two. They were big buckteeth in the front of his mouth, and they weren’t in such good shape.

“Bounty hunters,” he said. “I like that. We got a bunch of characters here, but I think you’re the first bounty hunters.”

“What other characters are here?” Diesel asked.

“Sasquatch has a place up the road a ways. And Elmer the Fire Farter is there, too.”

“Does he really fart fire?” Diesel asked.

“Fuckin’ A,” Easter Bunny said. “I’ve seen it. He has to be real careful what he eats or else he farts in his sleep and burns his house down. And then there’s the Jersey Devil. I don’t know where he lives, but he flies over my yard sometimes.”

“Anyone else?”

“We got a monkey horde. A bunch of them showed up to watch me make dinner last night. And they were all wearing hats. And there’s someone in the woods to the

north, shooting lights into the sky at night. Damn lights mess up my tele vision reception. I got a dish on the roof of my mobile home. It’s not cheap running that dish, and now my reception is crap. And sometimes when the reception is crap, all my fur stands on end. And then it rains. But it only rains next to my truck. You see that big mud puddle? That’s where it rains.”

“I can’t help noticing you’re wearing a rabbit suit,” I said to him.

“Seemed a shame to throw them all away just ’cause I retired,” the guy said. “And anyways, the zipper’s stuck on this one. I can’t get it off.”

“I’m looking for Wulf,” Diesel said. “Have you seen him?”

The Easter Bunny made the sign of the cross and hugged his beer bottle to his chest. “No. And I don’t never want to see him.”

“Why am I the only one who never heard of Wulf before?” I asked Diesel.

“You’re not an Unmentionable. You don’t get the news letter.”

“There’s a newsletter?”

Diesel gave a snort of laughter and tried to grab me, but I jumped away.

“You’re scum,” I said to him.

“I know,” Diesel said. “I can’t help myself.”

We got back on the ATVs, and I followed Diesel down the Easter Bunny’s driveway and along the road that presumably ran past Sasquatch and the Fire Farter. We saw no sign of Sasquatch or his house, but we passed a patch of scorched earth and two charred remnants of small mobile homes. We paused for a moment and looked at the ruins.

“I bet it was chili,” Diesel said.

Stephanie Plum 14.5 - Plum Spooky

FOURTEEN

IT WAS DUSK when we returned to the Subaru. We hadn’t encountered any more people or habitable houses. We’d ridden around for hours, but we covered only a very small portion of the Barrens. Diesel secured the ATVs and locked the back gate on the trailer. He pulled onto the paved road and headed toward Marbury.

“This isn’t the way home,” I said.

“I’m looking for a place we can hang for a while. I’d like to see the lights.”

Five miles down the road, we found a soft-?serve stand, closed for the season. The small parking lot was empty and dark. No ambient light for miles. Diesel positioned the Subaru so we were looking north, and we settled in.

“What about food?” I asked Diesel. “I’m hungry.”