Will You Marry Me? (Sam Darling Mystery Book 4) (11 page)

A chorus of chicken noises indicated something was happening. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed George enter the room, and I heard him ask for the "Big Cluck." A chicken directed him to someone in my group. I'd been clucking with Jim Bob and didn't even know it. Ugh.

George said, "I need to talk to you. Please come with me," and he put his hand on the Big Cluck's back and guided him to the door. I knew that conversation would be a lot more interesting than the clucking going on inside, but felt obliged to continue my ruse.

After about a half hour Jim Bob hadn't come back and I hadn't learned anything except that this chicken life was boring as all get out. I'm a talker, and not being able to talk, except for saying one word, was more than I could bear.

I clucked an excuse and left the chick I'd been clucking to. I walked out the door and turned right to go back down the closed hallway. Suddenly I felt a hand or wing grab mine and cluck seductively in my ear. I wiggled away, appalled at the thought of sharing intimacies with anyone other than my George,and the fact that it was a chicken who wanted to have sex with me. It was too gross, and I did the unforgivable. I opened my mouth inside the chicken head and screamed, "Leave me alone, you pervert!"

Silence.

Oh, crap! I'd talked.

I didn't know what to do, so I just went with my impulse and started running, but at least I'd stopped screaming. Perhaps it wasn't running, so much as a faster waddle. I waddled into an open meeting room, but before I could shut the door the much-larger-than-I chicken arrived.
 

Trying to pull off my chicken head was not working, but I was able to twist it a little. So yelling, "Leave me alone" was coming out of an ear rather than a beak.

I heard a muffled voice say, "You told me you wanted it. What was the meaning of the sexy clucking? You little tease."

He grabbed me again and I kicked him in the privates. Because my suit was so tight the kick ended up landing me on my bottom, but still it felt good. I clambered up the best I could while the guy was bent over. I grabbed his scrawny little chicken head and pulled.

My "oomph" was loud, but his "oh, shit" was louder.

I knew the guy wasn't Jim Bob, because I thought he was still with George, but was relieved anyway to find out it was a little dude who had nerd written all over him. I finally was able to get my chicken head off and once our faces were exposed he shrank back into his normal persona, and immediately apologized for what he'd done.

For some reason, I went into my social worker mode and didn't scream at him. Instead, no longer scared, I calmly stated I was going to report this attempted rape to the authorities, forgot about my chicken head, and walked out. I stopped and turned back however when he said, "You know it's against the rules for a non-member to wear a chicken suit. You're gonna be in trouble!"

"Not as much as you, Bub."

It felt good to have the last word with the offensive rooster, but I wanted to find George as soon as I could. I slowly walked down the dark hallway to ask Chip if he knew where George was, but he wasn't there. Someone was supposed to be guarding the carpet so the evidence wasn't ruined. Where was Chip?

I heard him before I saw him. A low moan emanated from a doorway and I saw a pair of feet sticking out onto the hall carpet. The feet began to move a little. I waddled over to help, figuring it must be Chip. As I got closer to the body to determine if he was conscious or just moaning while still out of it, I realized that it wasn't Chip. It was Jim Bob.
 

Jim Bob? What in the world was he doing being hit? I had him pegged as a possible bad guy. Maybe he was a bad guy and a good guy clocked him. Yeah, that was it. Or maybe he really was a good guy, just strange.

While this monologue was going on in my head, Jim Bob continued to moan, but now was holding his head and his eyes were open.

"What...what happened?" He asked in a groggy, kind of other-worldly voice.

"I don't know. I just got here. Did someone hit you?" I tried to sit him up as we spoke.

"I don't know either. One minute I was talking to Chip and then I was talking to you and my head hurts. Ow...," he moaned as he held his head.

"Where's Chip? Where's George?" I knew Jim Bob didn't know where Chip was, but was thinking out loud. "Where's George?" I repeated.

"He tried to force us to be interviewed without our suits on, and I refused." Jim Bob tried to stand. "There's probably a constitutional right being violated there. Not sure, but I think so. Anyway he said something about a warrant and took off."

I helped him all the way to his feet. He seemed unsteady for a moment, but soon stood on his own. He kept rubbing his head though.

"I wonder what happened to Chip," I said aloud.

"He's probably the one who hit me."

"C'mon," I said. "Why in the world would Chip want to hit you?"

"Maybe he's the murderer." Jim Bob said it in such a way that sounded like even he didn't believe himself.

I wanted to find George to report what the nerd chicken had done to me. But I thought I'd ask Jim Bob about the sexual practices first. It took me a moment to muster my courage, and before I could talk, he did.

"Why are you wearing a chicken suit?" His energy seemed to be back and I felt the full force of his accusation.

"Because. That's why." I could tell by his face that it wasn't enough, so I added, "I was working undercover. It's a common practice for the police."

"Yeah, but you're not a cop."

I couldn't argue with that and thought I'd ask Jeremiah to deputize me too. I knew I should have thought of that before. For the first time I'd be an official cop.

Jim Bob brought me back to the present. "What were you trying to do anyway? Trap someone into confessing? Do you honestly think one of the chickens is a criminal?"

"Well, given how many of you there are, there's a good chance someone is a criminal, although I'm not sure about a murderer." I realized that Jim Bob was the last person in the world I wanted to talk to about the case.

"Are you okay enough to walk?" I asked.

He nodded.

"We've got to get some help. I don't have my phone on me. Do you?"

"I did," he answered, and felt around his pockets for his cell phone. "It's not here."
 

After turning on the lights, I got down on my hands and knees and looked under furniture and in every corner, but didn't find it. "Someone must have taken it. Crap."

"Why don't you go get help and I'll stay here and guard the scene?" Jim Bob offered.

I thought that now it was the scene of two possible crimes, and another one had occurred against me in the other hallway. Jim Bob was about the last person I wanted to leave alone to guard the scene. He was still on my short list of suspects. And so was Chip. I wouldn't have thought in a million years that Chip would be a bad guy. This town was crazy.

At this point, I didn't feel I had a choice except to leave Jim Bob there alone. As I left the room to go find help I heard another low moan, "Oooh. Owww."
 

For the first time I noticed another pair of feet sticking out into the hallway from the room directly across. I rushed over there as fast as my chicken feet could carry me and found a prostrate Chip.

"Thank God," I said.

"What? Thank God I'm hurt?" he whined.

"No, thank God you're not the bad guy."

"Oh," he said. Then he smiled at me and passed out cold.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

"Are you okay?" I asked Chip as I cradled his head in my arms.

"I...I guess," he said, still reclining in my arms, but rubbing his head. "My head sure hurts. What happened?"

"I was just going to ask you the same question." By then I noticed how weirdly Chip was looking at me. I looked down and saw the chicken suit. I'd taken the head off but the suit remained. No wonder he was staring at me. "I'm wearing your suit for the reason we talked about earlier, and I've lost the chicken head somewhere. Sorry. But back to you; tell me what you think happened."

"Really, I don't know," he said as he tried to sit up. "George was talking to Jim Bob and Jim Bob was getting pretty mad. George too. George stormed off, to get a warrant he said. I turned to look down the hall and the next thing I remember, my head was hurting and you were looking at me." He rubbed his head some more. "What happened to Jim Bob? Did he do this to me?"

"Nope. The same thing happened to him."

"How could it?" Chip said, trying to make sense of things. "He was standing right by me. He would have seen what happened to me and put up a fight. Did he put up a fight?"

"Or were there two of them...," I asked, again thinking out loud.

By then Jim Bob had joined us. "I didn't see anything either, Chip. One minute I was talking to you and the next I was talking to this lady."

"Sam. My name is Sam." I couldn't figure this out alone. I was sure getting vibes though. My gut was acting up something fierce. Finally I said, "I'm going to leave you two alone. Watch each other. Don't let anyone else wander down this hallway. Got it?"

Chip nodded, but Jim Bob said, "But my head--"

"Stop whining. This is what's going to happen. I'll be right back." I looked at both of them sternly so they knew I was serious. "I mean it. Watch each other. I'll get either George or the sheriff, and I'll have someone call Wilma so she can check you both out. In the meantime, do not leave this post. Do you both understand?"

This time both of them nodded.

Finally satisfied I went out the back door. I wished Clancy were with me. There was a murderer and an attacker loose, not to mention my own personal attacker. I also thought we could be looking for one person or we could be looking for three. This was crazy. Could my nerd guy be the murderer and the one who attacked Jim Bob and Chip? Or was he just following the practices of the chicken convention--if someone clucks seductively, you have the right to get 'em?

I looked to the right and saw the back of the diner and the gas station, and looked to the left and saw the alley that served the mostly unused buildings in the former downtown. I didn't see anyone, so decided to walk to the right. I turned to go in front of the diner instead of behind it, because I wanted to get to the front of the gas station where the grave was. I knew someone would be there.

I was happily surprised to see Jeremiah and George talking to an animated Wilma. I didn't see Luigi or Barclay anywhere, but was too much in a hurry to ask about them.

"Sam, I'm glad to see you," George said. "Where's your head?"

I touched my hair as if to remind myself that I was missing my head. "I lost it somewhere."

George laughed and repeated, "You lost your head."

I wanted to laugh with him but instead started crying. He immediately put his arm around me.

Wilma said, "Are you okay?"

"Yes. No. I don't know. So much has happened."

"Tell us," Jeremiah commanded.

So I did. Starting with the attack of the nerd chicken all the way to leaving Chip and Jim Bob in charge of watching the hallway--and each other.

Wilma said, "I'll go check them out."

Jeremiah said, "I'll go with you and question them."

George said, "I'll go with Sam to find the guy who attacked her."

All three spoke practically at the same time and my head was swimming. George still had his arm around me and was practically lifting me off the ground with his protectiveness.

"I'm okay, honey. I just felt overwhelmed. I can walk. But I don't mind if you want to keep your arm around me though." He did.

We walked into the front of the motel, which was the quickest way to get to the convention room.

George swung open the door as if he were John Wayne entering a saloon to confront the cowboy in black. It seemed like a gazillion chicken heads all turned in unison. Maybe not so much to see George, but to see me in one of their suits but lacking a head.

"Who's the jerk who attacked my girlfriend?"

There wasn't a sound. Not one. Well, except for the loud beating of my heart. George was my hero anyway, but never more so than at that moment. I wanted to grab him and kiss him but thought it would probably detract from the gravity of the situation.

Finally after what seemed like an eternity, a smallish chicken raised a wing and said, "Cluck?" in the tiniest of voices. I almost felt sorry for him, but also pleased that he had the courage to admit what he'd done. That stopped me from having to look at every single guy there.

"Come with me," George said. And the chicken did.

We walked into a smaller meeting room across the hall and George told the guy to take off his head. Without hesitating, he did so.

Yep, it was my admirer all right.

"Why did you grab me?" I couldn't wait to talk.

"You told me you wanted to have sex!" he exclaimed, still sounding scared.

"I did no such thing," saying it more for George's sake than the guy's.

"Yes, you did," he said.

"How did she say it?" asked, George, the voice of reason. "What words did she use?"

"She didn't use words," the man was practically whining. "She clucked it."

"I DID NOT!"

"Yes, you did," he repeated. "When your cluck went up and then down. That's what it means. It means, 'I want to have sex with you. NOW!' I mean it's an emphatic way of saying it. No foreplay. Nothin'. Just sex as soon as possible." He looked at George. "I promise. And I had no way of knowing she wasn't a real chicken."

"None of you are real chickens," I said.

"You know what I mean. I had no way of knowing you weren't one of us."

I sighed loudly. What should I do? This almost-pathetic creature in front of me wasn't a typical rapist. Not that I knew what a typical rapist looked like. My vibes were dormant and my empathy was turned up to high.

I turned to George. "Let him go."

"What?" George yelled. He never yelled.

Pulling him aside, I said to the attack chicken, "Stay right there."

We walked to a corner of the room. I looked at George as steadily as I could and said, "I think he's telling the truth. Find out who he is and what motel room he's in. Tell him not to leave town. Then ask Jim Bob if the guy is being straight with us."