Scatman Dues (Freaky Florida Mystery Adventures Book 6)

by Margaret Lashley

  I thought about the cash he had stashed inside the RV’s paneled walls.

  “But ... why Nubbin?” I asked.

  “I guess because it’s part of me, Drex.” He locked eyes with me. “Is that creepy?”

  I shrugged. “Not as creepy as saving toenail clippings.”

  Grayson laughed. “How about this? Is this creepy?” He set the jar on my lap. “Look how they fit together.”

  I picked up the jar and gasped. Floating side by side, our vestigial twins looked like a pair of macabre salt and pepper shakers.

  “That’s uncanny,” I said. “What do you think that means?”

  “I don’t know,” Grayson said. “But I’d say the odds are astronomical.”

  Either Grayson and I were destined for each other, or my life was a totally freaky Sci-Fi movie. I mean, identical vestigial twins? Who could make that shit up?

  Had we both been infected with the same extraterrestrial spores? Were these things biological alien implants? Were Grayson and I both aliens? Or alien hybrids?

  I needed something else to think about, and fast! I nearly fainted with relief when Earl poked his head in the door.

  “How’s it goin’?” he asked.

  “Come in,” I said. “I want to hear about the showdown with Queen Kristie,” I said. “You bailed out in time, obviously. But is everybody else okay?”

  Earl lowered his head. “Sometimes, Bobbie, life just sucks the jelly right outta your donut.”

  “What?” I asked, then gasped. “Did something happen to Jimmy and Garth?”

  “No,” Grayson said. “They’re fine.”

  “Then who?”

  “Gizzard,” Earl said.

  “Oh my word!” I blurted. “Don’t tell me you ate Gizzard!”

  Earl drew back as if I’d stuck him with a cattle prod. “Geez, Bobbie! I’m not an animal!”

  “Well, technically you are,” Grayson said. “A mammal, to be specific.”

  “Guys!” I said. “What happened to Gizzard?”

  “I put her out of the RV before I took off to go rescue y’all,” Earl said. He cringed. “Then I kinda ran over the terrarium when I was backing out.”

  I winced. “Oh.”

  “Hold on,” Grayson said. “When we got back to the compound, we found the broken terrarium pieces lying on the driveway,” Grayson said. “There was no blood or body parts around. I believe she escaped into the junkyard unharmed.”

  “What will happen to her now?” I asked.

  “She’s an anole,” Grayson said. “They’re natural ecomorphs. She’ll be able to adapt to her new environment. After all, she’s a native Floridian, just like you two. From what I’ve seen, you all are one tough bunch.”

  “Yep. We Floridians know how to survive,” Earl said.

  I adjusted my wig. “Yes, we most certainly do.”

  Grayson smiled. “Good. Now, I think we should let you rest up, Drex. You’re getting released tomorrow.”

  “Finally!” I said.

  “If you’re up for it, I’d like to take you to visit the grave of our fallen comrade.”

  I gulped. “Who died?”

  Chapter Sixty-Nine

  As promised, Grayson arrived at my hospital room at nine o’clock sharp. I figured I’d enjoy one last lie-in before I had to face the reality that I was broke—and so was Grayson. With no funds and no RV, our little enterprise seemed doomed to further exploration of the galaxy.

  “Ready?” he asked, slipping his head inside the door.

  “Get me out of here before Carl Blanders comes back,” I said, slipping my feet into my cowboy boots.

  Grayson’s lip twitched at the sound of Carl’s name. I did a double take.

  Could he actually be jealous?

  I smirked.

  Maybe he’s human after all...

  “You still haven’t told me how things went with Queen Cruller,” I said. “Or who died.”

  “I’m aware of that,” Grayson said, picking up my duffle bag. “But I think it’s better to wait until you’re out of here.”

  My nose crinkled. “Why? Are you afraid I’ll scream or something?”

  Grayson headed for the door. “I’ll opt for ‘or something.’”

  “YOUR EYES LOOK RED,” Earl said as I walked into the hospital parking lot with Grayson. “Have you been crying?”

  “No. Your eyes look glazed,” I quipped. “Have you been eating donuts?”

  Earl grimaced. “No way. I’ve sworn off a them thangs for life.”

  I glanced over at Bessie and did a double take. She was sporting a brand new periscope sticking up from the ceiling of her cab.

  “What did you do to her?” I aked.

  Earl grinned. “After I seen that one on that ol’ roach mobile, I just had to have me one.”

  “Incredible,” Grayson said, shaking his head. “Did you install that last night?”

  I laughed. “Grayson, you should be used to this by now.”

  “Don’t worry none, Mr. G.,” Earl said. “My friend Danny says that sudden exposure to redneck engineering can throw some people into a discombobulated state of consciousness.”

  I shook my head. “And you, my dear cousin, are definitely a redneck.”

  “Thanky,” Earl said. “I take that as a compliment.”

  “A compliment?” Grayson asked.

  “Why shore,” Earl said. “After all, a redneck is just an entrepreneur with more imagination than money.”

  I thought of our empty coffers and offered up a bittersweet smile. “I guess that makes us all rednecks now. So, where we going?”

  “We’re off to the memorial of a beloved colleague,” Grayson said. “But first, we have an important stop to make.”

  Chapter Seventy

  We pulled into the parking lot of an old motel.

  “The Imperial Motor Court?” I said sourly. “Gee, you shouldn’t have splurged.”

  Jimmy and Garth piled out of their 1966 light-blue Chevy pickup and sprinted toward us.

  “Hi, Pandora, Earl, and Mr. Gray!”

  “Hi,” I said. “Excuse me, but what the hell are we doing here?”

  “Actually, it was Jimmy who found this place,” Grayson said.

  “By accident,” Jimmy said. “I was out on a robbery call when I spotted her.”

  My nose crinkled. “Wade’s missing girlfriend, Connie?”

  “No,” Jimmy said. “Queen Kristie.”

  I’D BEEN CHOMPING AT the bit to know what happened with Queen Kristie, but Grayson had been chomping at the bit for tacos. After a quick vote all around, he and the guys had won. The five of us piled back into our vehicles and traded the Imperial Court Motel for a booth by the window at Juanita’s Casa del Tacos.

  “So, what the frick and frack happened?” I asked after patiently waiting for Thelma to take the men’s orders.

  “I was out on a routine robbery call last week,” Jimmy said. “Some guy complaining some woman had ripped him off.”

  “Goody. So what happened?”

  “He told me the woman was in Room 13 at the motor court. So I walked over, gun drawn. The woman inside was Queen Kristie.”

  “How’d you know it was her?” I asked.

  “She was, believe me,” Jimmy said. “She was blonde, tanned, big bosom—”

  “Yeah, I get the picture,” I said. “But what evidence do you have it was her out in the woods running those bonfire meetings?”

  “Well, for one thing, she had about a hundred robes in her room she’d stolen from a one-day stint as a maid at the Royal Inn & Day Spa.”

  “That’s hardly conclusive,” I said.

  “She also had a box of donut holes and a baggie full of ecstasy,” Jimmy said.

  “Well, okay, but—”

  “And the guy whose wallet she stole said she told him to call her Queen Kristie.”

  “Fine,” I said. “So, what about Wade?”

  “I got a call from him last weekend,” Jimmy said. “It seems he
and Connie decided to run off and start a new life together in New Jersey.”

  I glanced over at Grayson. “So much for your ‘sucked up into a portal’ theory.”

  He shrugged. “New Jersey. Alpha Centauri. They both have their own unique appeals.”

  “So this whole thing really was just some hot bimbo duping guys out of their money?” I asked.

  “That’s one theory,” Garth said. “Right, Mr. Gray?”

  “How stupid can some guys be?” I asked.

  Grayson rubbed his chin. “All humans are to some degree biologically prone to intellectual laziness, emotional decision-making, confirmation bias, and other natural impulses that often obstruct critical thinking.”

  I smirked. “Is that your way of saying you were wrong?”

  Grayson shrugged. “I wouldn’t go that far. We still haven’t proven conclusively that she wasn’t on a mission from Krull.”

  “Give me a break!” I said.

  “I’m serious,” Grayson said. “How else can you explain what happened to the RV?”

  I frowned. “I thought you said it was destroyed.”

  “No. I said it was lost.”

  I shot him a look. “What’s the difference?”

  “Well, a lot, actually,” he said. “Besides the door handle that hit you in the head, not a trace of the RV could be found.”

  “It’s like it just vanished,” Jimmy said.

  “Into a space butthole,” Earl said.

  “Come on, you guys!” I said, hoping this was just a joke. “What really happened to that stupid RV?”

  “I have two theories,” Grayson said. “One, the RV could’ve been vaporized by the phosphoric blast. Or two, we foiled Queen Kristie’s plan and blew up her portal, leaving her stranded on Earth to make a living whichever way she can.”

  Grayson glanced out the window. “Think of it. My RV could’ve crossed over the Einstein-Rosen Bridge and is up there right now, carrying my earthly belongings and Earl’s bacterial payload to distant galaxies.”

  Earl elbowed me and grinned like a proud papa. “My butt bacteria could be up there inoculating Uranus as we speak.”

  I shook my head, picturing the diarrhea-ridden RV floating around in some distant asteroid field, pinging around like a poop-laden pinball.

  God help the poor alien who runs across that sorry sight. Forget biological warfare. The smell of Earl’s microbiome alone would be enough to do them in.

  Chapter Seventy-One

  It wasn’t publicly known, but Garth had been able to ascertain the home address of The Amazing Randi via his network of science and conspiracy nerds.

  After a short trip to Plantation, Florida, Earl parked Bessie along the shoulder of the road in front of the home where the famous magician and paranormal debunker had, until recently, lived.

  I stared at the house through the passenger window. The bouquets of flowers we’d brought along weren’t the first memorial offerings the great man had posthumously received.

  As we climbed out to pay our respects by laying flowers on his lawn, an older gentleman came out of the house and walked toward us.

  “Excuse me,” he said. “Did you know Mr. Randi?”

  “Uh ... yes,” Grayson said. “We don’t mean to intrude. We just want to pay our respects. We’re all great admirers of The Amazing Randi.”

  The man smiled. “He always did prefer that particular title.”

  “I’m Nick Grayson,” he said, shaking the man’s hand. “This is Earl Schankles. And this young woman here is the unsinkable Roberta Drex.”

  The man’s smile faded. “Roberta Drex?”

  I winced. “Uh ... yes.”

  “You’re kidding,” he said. “I’ve been trying to reach you for weeks.”

  I blanched. “You have?”

  “She was knocked out in a coma,” Earl said.

  I shook my head at Earl, then glanced back at the man. “Why did you want to reach me?”

  “For an address. A colleague wanted me to mail this letter to you.”

  “Who?” Grayson asked. “The Amazing Randi?”

  The man handed me the letter. “I’m not at liberty to say.”

  “Then let’s go to Liberty so’s you can say,” Earl said.

  The man shot Earl an odd look, then turned his attention back to me. “Let’s just say it’s from someone who prefers to remain anonymous.” He winked at me. “Another mystery for you to figure out, perhaps?”

  “But—” I said.

  “No more questions,” the man said. He turned on his heels and headed back toward the house.

  I opened the envelope. Inside was a note. I read it aloud to Earl and Grayson.

  It’s always wise to have something important to do. Perseverance is stubbornness with a purpose. Carry on the good work, Roberta Drex. And be sure to check your bank balance.

  “What’s that all about?” Grayson asked.

  “I’m not sure,” I said, rereading the note.

  “Gimme that,” Earl said, and snatched my phone from my shirt pocket.

  “You have to know what this is about,” Grayson said.

  I looked up into his green eyes. “When we were on our way to Plant City, I sent some samples to the Randi Foundation. But I figured nothing would come of it. It was the day you told me Randi had died.”

  “Samples of the Mothman scat?” Grayson asked.

  “Yes. And—” I cringed. “A small sample I clipped from your Nubbin.”

  Grayson blanched. “But—”

  “Well, somethin’ sure impressed somebody!” Earl said, shoving my phone in my face. “Lord a mighty, Bobbie!” he hollered. “Somebody done sent you a million bucks!”

  “Holy crap!” I said.

  But was it for the poop—or the Nubbin?

  “I suffer from this obsession that I have something important to do,” Grayson said.

  I smiled up at him weakly. “Well, good for you.”

  “No,” Grayson said. “I mean—that’s what The Amazing Randi said. Remember me telling you that?”

  “Oh.” I said. “Yeah, I remember.”

  Grayson sighed and shook his head. “You know, Drex, I’m beginning to believe more and more like Randi did.”

  I suddenly felt crestfallen. “That the paranormal doesn’t exist?”

  “No. That the Universe doesn’t care about credentials. That it cares more about commitment.”

  “Grayson’s right,” Earl said, nodding like a bobble-head. “I think we should all be committed.”

  I shook my head and smiled. “Earl, I couldn’t agree with you more.”

  WE DROPPED OUR FLOWERS off in front of The Amazing Randi’s house, then turned and walked back toward Bessie. Earl had sprinted ahead of Grayson and me, eager to peer at the people coming down the road with his makeshift periscope.

  “Here, I’ve got something for you,” Grayson said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a Tootsie Pop.

  I smirked. “You wouldn’t be trying to sweeten me up, now that I’m a millionaire, would you?”

  Grayson’s left eyebrow flat-lined. “What?”

  He stared at me for a moment. “I’m giving you this as a token of my admiration, Drex. You’ve proven to possess the inner fortitude required to surmount internal and external biological compulsions.”

  “Huh?”

  “You’ve shown me you’re pretty good at licking the hard stuff, cadet.”

  I laughed. “Is that your way of saying I’ve made the grade?”

  He shrugged. “Well, maybe not an A-plus, but definitely passing, yes.”

  “High praise, indeed.” I sighed and twirled the sucker in my fingers. “So, where do we go from here, Grayson?”

  The edges of his mouth curved upward slightly. “You know, Oscar Wilde once said that if you know what you want to be, you inevitably become it. That is your punishment. But if you never know, then you can become anything. So, what do you want to be, Drex?”

  I smiled up at him. “Happy
.”

  Grayson’s cheek dimpled. “Me, too.”

  He reached over and took my hand. I felt his spidery fingers intertwine with mine.

  They fit together perfectly.

  My pulse quickened. An electric tingle ran through my body. Still, something nagged at me like a stain on my favorite sweater. I looked up at Grayson.

  “So, what exactly is this Experiment #5 business all about?”

  “Ah,” Grayson said. “The hot bodies.”

  I bit my lower lip. “Uh ... yeah.”

  Grayson stopped and locked his green eyes with my brown ones. Was he about to confess some deep, dark perversion?

  “I’ve been researching Spontaneous Human Combustion,” he said. “Last week, a guy in St. Petersburg woke up in his Prius to find half his arm burned to cinders.”

  I never thought I’d be happy to hear about a roasted body part, but relief washed over me like a tsunami. “Get real, Grayson.”

  He raised an eyebrow like Spock and grinned. “I’m serious. St. Pete’s not far from here. You in?”

  I unwrapped the Tootsie Pop and smiled. “Yeah. I’m in.”

  “Excellent,” Grayson said, his green eyes flashing weirdly.

  Then, all of a sudden, he grabbed me up into his arms and kissed me hard on the mouth, just like he had the night I’d first met him—that strange night nearly a year ago when I’d taken care of him after he’d collapsed outside my family’s auto garage.

  It was déjà vu all over again.

  Only this time, it was me who was delirious.

  The End.

  I HOPE YOU ENJOYED Scatman Dues. If you did, it would be freaking fantastic if you would post a review on Amazon, Goodreads and/or BookBub. You’ll be helping me keep the series going! Thanks in advance for being so awesome!

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