Kimble White Bellied Chicken

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463] As he let the number ring, Hazard noticed a pedestrian turn the corner at the end of the block, on thé far side of the street, coming in the direction of the Laputa residence.Something was wrong about the guy. He had neither an umbrella nor a the rain.Theatrical. In this weather no other pedestrians were in sight, and at the moment no traffic moved on this quiet residential street, yet the guy appeared to be performing without an audience, for his own amusement.Tired of listening to Laputa’s phone ring, Hazard pressed END on his cell keypad.The pedestrian appeared to be talking to himself, although from across the street Hazard could not be certain of this.raincoat. The downpour had diminished to a , but it was not weather in which anyone went for a stroll. And that was another thing: The guy didn’t hurry.Attitude, however, was what really cranked up the Hazard Yancy suspicion machine. If the guy had been a sponge, he’d have been so saturated with attitude that he couldn’t have made room for one drop of rain.He swaggered under the streetlamps, not like genuine tough guys sometimes swaggered, but as movie stars swaggered when they thought they were getting the tough-guy thing just right. His gray pants, black turtleneck, and black leather coat were soaked, but he seemed to defy