Will You Marry Me? (Sam Darling Mystery Book 4) by Jerilyn Dufresne Page B
Authors: Jerilyn Dufresne
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said. "I'm Jim Bob, his brother. His twin."
A low growl from Clancy echoed what I was feeling.
"Boy, have we got a lot of questions for you," I said.
"Sam." That's all George needed to say. I realized it was his job, his show, and I needed to be a backup. I'd keep my ears open and my mouth closed, if that were at all possible. And I mentally warned Clancy to do the same.
Then George did what he does. He showed me what being a cop was about. A lot of tedious questions with some surprise ones thrown in. He was able to gather a ton of information while Clancy and I sat and enjoyed the show.
Within five minutes he found out that as for as Jim Bob knew, no one was acquainted outside of the convention, they didn't give real names except when they registered online, and if they talked in front of anyone they would be asked to leave. Or rather "clucked" to leave. For some reason that amused me to no end and I forced myself to stay straight-faced.
Clancy emitted another low growl.
"Do the same people come every year?" Finally I couldn't help but talk.
"Mostly," Jim Bob answered, and looked at Clancy with an unasked question on his face. "We get a few new ones, but we have to limit the number because of space considerations. It was hard finding a place to host us, and luckily our motel said yes."
"Anyone ever drop out?" I followed up with what seemed like a logical question.
"Sure, but not often. We don't know people's ages, but I'd imagine some people stop coming because they get older. But we have a core group that never misses. There's about thirty of us."
George took over. "Have all of the ones from last year shown up this year?"
Jim Bob nodded. "Well, all but one. Here's the strange part. I'm only the president by default. Our previous leader didn't show up this year, and as the Assistant Cluck I was the natural person to succeed to the office."
"Do you know the person's name? When was the last time you saw him or her? How can you tell who is who anyway? Has anyone heard from the chicken during the year?"
Jim Bob stared at me, "I thought you were quiet, but I was wrong."
That irritated me, but I couldn't argue the point.
"Just answer her please," George said.
"I saw her at last year's convention. After you've done this awhile you get to know the regulars, maybe not by sight, but certainly by their voice and intonation. She had a very sexy cluck about her."
"What's her name?" I repeated my question, but really wanted to know about the sexy cluck.
"Missy Hen. She had her last name legally changed." Jim Bob looked at George after answering. "And I don't know what it was before. She never said."
"Do you know what she looked like?" George asked. At Jim Bob's negative response, he continued, "Do the chickens um...mate?"
I swear Jim Bob blushed. And he hesitated before answering. "We have the costumes special made so that the chickens can mate without taking off their suits."
When George didn't ask anything further, I figured we were finished and turned to leave, but George had one more question, "Did you have an intimate relationship with Missy Hen?"
"Yeah...probably. I knew her, but it gets pretty randy around here during the convention...." I swear he looked proud. And all I could think was...ewwwww. He continued, "I guess I ought to tell you that it's kind of a fetish convention. That's why it was difficult to find a place to hold it."
Hmmm, he's seems a lot smarter than he did yesterday. Maybe he got the brains that were allotted to him and his identical twin. And poor Bob Bob got left out.
At that point I thought it was important to repeat one question, "Did you ever see her outside of the convention?"
He hesitated before he nodded. "We're not supposed to, but there was something about Missy Hen. She was a fascinating chick." His eyes glazed over, whether with regret, love, lust, guilt, or shame at his pun, I didn't know. "If the group found out, I'd be ousted as the president, maybe even kicked out of
A low growl from Clancy echoed what I was feeling.
"Boy, have we got a lot of questions for you," I said.
"Sam." That's all George needed to say. I realized it was his job, his show, and I needed to be a backup. I'd keep my ears open and my mouth closed, if that were at all possible. And I mentally warned Clancy to do the same.
Then George did what he does. He showed me what being a cop was about. A lot of tedious questions with some surprise ones thrown in. He was able to gather a ton of information while Clancy and I sat and enjoyed the show.
Within five minutes he found out that as for as Jim Bob knew, no one was acquainted outside of the convention, they didn't give real names except when they registered online, and if they talked in front of anyone they would be asked to leave. Or rather "clucked" to leave. For some reason that amused me to no end and I forced myself to stay straight-faced.
Clancy emitted another low growl.
"Do the same people come every year?" Finally I couldn't help but talk.
"Mostly," Jim Bob answered, and looked at Clancy with an unasked question on his face. "We get a few new ones, but we have to limit the number because of space considerations. It was hard finding a place to host us, and luckily our motel said yes."
"Anyone ever drop out?" I followed up with what seemed like a logical question.
"Sure, but not often. We don't know people's ages, but I'd imagine some people stop coming because they get older. But we have a core group that never misses. There's about thirty of us."
George took over. "Have all of the ones from last year shown up this year?"
Jim Bob nodded. "Well, all but one. Here's the strange part. I'm only the president by default. Our previous leader didn't show up this year, and as the Assistant Cluck I was the natural person to succeed to the office."
"Do you know the person's name? When was the last time you saw him or her? How can you tell who is who anyway? Has anyone heard from the chicken during the year?"
Jim Bob stared at me, "I thought you were quiet, but I was wrong."
That irritated me, but I couldn't argue the point.
"Just answer her please," George said.
"I saw her at last year's convention. After you've done this awhile you get to know the regulars, maybe not by sight, but certainly by their voice and intonation. She had a very sexy cluck about her."
"What's her name?" I repeated my question, but really wanted to know about the sexy cluck.
"Missy Hen. She had her last name legally changed." Jim Bob looked at George after answering. "And I don't know what it was before. She never said."
"Do you know what she looked like?" George asked. At Jim Bob's negative response, he continued, "Do the chickens um...mate?"
I swear Jim Bob blushed. And he hesitated before answering. "We have the costumes special made so that the chickens can mate without taking off their suits."
When George didn't ask anything further, I figured we were finished and turned to leave, but George had one more question, "Did you have an intimate relationship with Missy Hen?"
"Yeah...probably. I knew her, but it gets pretty randy around here during the convention...." I swear he looked proud. And all I could think was...ewwwww. He continued, "I guess I ought to tell you that it's kind of a fetish convention. That's why it was difficult to find a place to hold it."
Hmmm, he's seems a lot smarter than he did yesterday. Maybe he got the brains that were allotted to him and his identical twin. And poor Bob Bob got left out.
At that point I thought it was important to repeat one question, "Did you ever see her outside of the convention?"
He hesitated before he nodded. "We're not supposed to, but there was something about Missy Hen. She was a fascinating chick." His eyes glazed over, whether with regret, love, lust, guilt, or shame at his pun, I didn't know. "If the group found out, I'd be ousted as the president, maybe even kicked out of
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