“I thought we’d start with Gail Scanlon’s house. I’d like to see it for myself. After that, we’ll play it by ear. Ride around and see what happens. And in case my instincts fail, I have a handheld GPS. Do you feel comfortable with this ATV?”
Sure, aside from the fact I’d never been on one. “It looks pretty straightforward.” Like a big Tonka toy. Four wheels with aggressive tread tires, steering wheel, gas pedal, brake, some buttons.
We had no trouble finding Gail Scanlon’s compound. The booby trap hadn’t been reset, but some of the remains were still on the ground. We turned right at the fork and followed the road to the monkey farm.
We drove into the yard and got off the ATVs. Not a monkey in sight. No other cars in the yard.
“Feels like a ghost town,” Diesel said.
We went into the house and snooped around, finding nothing of interest. After the house, we went to the monkey shed. I’d expected to find cages, but the shed was actually an indoor habitat with heat and electric and running water. Only thing missing was the monkey horde.
I left the shed and stood in the middle of the yard and called Carl, but Carl didn’t appear.
“Boy,” I said, “after all I did for him. And this is the thanks I get.”
“You’re freaking me out,” Diesel said. “You sound like my mother.”
“You have a mother?”
“If you’re going to be mean to me, I’m not going to let you make me any more grilled cheese.”
“You let me make the grilled cheese?”
Diesel smiled wide enough for his dimples to show.
I shook my finger at him. “Don’t you dare use those dimples on me.”
Diesel rocked back on his heels, still smiling wide. “I can’t help it if I have dimples.”
“Yes, you can. I know all about you and those dimples.”
“Most women like them.”
“I’m not most women.”
“No shit,” Diesel said. “Get on the ATV.”
We took the road leading out of the compound until we came to the fork, and then we turned right. After several yards, a rough path cut off into the pines, and I assumed this was the path Munch took when I chased him through the woods. I followed Diesel along the path, and we began working our way through a labyrinth of ATV tracks.
Stephanie Plum, off-?road warrior. Now, this was the way it should be, I thought. Taking action. Hauling ass in the woods behind Diesel. Well, okay—truthfully, I wanted to be in front of Diesel. I wanted to ride point, lead the charge, be the big kahuna. Unfortunately, Diesel was the one who’d memorized the aerial map. And he was supposedly the one with super senses.
“Big whoop-?de-?do, super senses,” I said.
“I heard that,” Diesel yelled back at me.
“No, you didn’t.”
“Yes, I did.”
Every now and then I’d catch a glimpse of a monkey with a hat, sitting in a tree or running across the path, but I didn’t see Carl. We skirted a boggy area and came on a rusted-?out trailer set up on cinder blocks. An equally rusted-?out pickup truck was parked not far off, and an old man sat smoking and drinking beer in front of the trailer. His face and hands were weathered by the sun and the years. Everything else was hidden away in a pink bunny suit that had seen much better days. The bunny ears hung limp alongside the old guy’s head, and the fur was moth-?eaten and matted. A monkey with a helmet hunkered on the hood of the pickup, watching us.
“What the hell?” I mouthed to Diesel.
“Easter Bunny,” Diesel said. “Retired.”
We got off the ATVs and walked over to him.
“Why is the monkey wearing a hat?” I asked.