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“Are the police making any progress on these robberies?”
“Not that I can tell. Not a lot of talent assigned to this desk.”
“It’s odd that these two houses were hit together.”
“Both clients were at the same dinner party,” Ranger said. “Somehow, our bandit knew the houses would be empty. Originally, I thought he randomly hit houses that were dark. Now I think he plans ahead. We need to go over the original report taken after each break-in to see if there’s a common service provider. Someone who might have talked to the homeowner. And we probably want to go back and reinterview all of the clients who were robbed.”
“That still doesn’t tell us how he got the codes.”
“Trust me, if I catch this guy, he’ll tell me how he got the codes.”
THE FIRST THING I noticed when I woke up was that I wasn’t alone. Ranger was in bed with me. And he was asleep. I reviewed the night, and I couldn’t remember anything amazing happening. Tank had driven me back to Rangeman around two in the morning. Ranger hadn’t come back with us. It was now nine o’clock. I checked around and determined I was wearing all the clothes I was supposed to be wearing. Panties and T-shirt. I slipped out of bed, and Ranger woke up.
“When did you get home?” I asked him.
“A little after five.”
“I’m surprised I’m not naked.”
“You weren’t in the mood,” Ranger said. “You told me you’d shoot me with my own gun if I touched you.”
“What did you do?”
“I got up and locked my gun in the safe. You were asleep when I came back to bed.”
“I was tired.”
“Are you tired now?”
“No, but I’m going to work. I have three skips to catch. I need to check in on Lula. And I want to go over the reports from your break-ins.”
“The reports are on my desk,” Ranger said.
&n
bsp; A half hour later, I rolled out of the garage in Ranger’s Cayenne and dialed Lula.
“What’s going on today?” I asked her. “And where are you?”
“I’m getting ready to leave your apartment. Your kitchen is all clean, and they’re putting my new door up this morning. I’m having brunch with Mister Clucky, and then I’m going to your mama’s house to cook with your granny. You could have brunch at Cluck-in-a-Bucket with me if you want.”
“Cluck-in-a-Bucket has brunch?”
“Only on Sunday. You get orange juice and biscuits and a bucket of nuggets.”
“How is that different from every other day?”
“It’s the orange juice. Usually, you get a soda.”
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll meet you at Cluck-in-a-Bucket.”
I’d grabbed a to-go cup of coffee from the fifth-floor kitchen before I left Rangeman, but I hadn’t bothered with breakfast, so biscuits and orange juice sounded good.
I drove through the center of the city and reached Cluck-in-a-Bucket just as Lula was pulling into the lot. Mister Clucky was dancing around in front of the building, and the hideous impaled chicken was spinning overhead.
“Yoohoo, Mister Clucky, honey,” Lula called, getting out of her Firebird and waving.
“Boy, you must really like him,” I said.
