Scatman Dues (Freaky Florida Mystery Adventures Book 6) by Margaret Lashley (interesting books to read .TXT) 📗

the ankle-deep muck a few paces behind me. As I reached the rough, red trunk of the cypress, a pointy branch scratched my arm. I wasn’t falling for another stupid Medusa tree alien, so I swatted at it angrily.

“Ouch!” a voice said.

Cold adrenaline shot through my spine.

I jumped and pivoted toward the voice. But before I could reach my Glock, a hand grabbed my arm.

“I told you to stay away,” a voice hissed—from beneath the hood of a white, terrycloth robe.

Chapter Thirty-Six

“Let go of me!” I screamed at the jerk who’d grabbed my wrist. I tried to knee him in the groin, but the white robe he was wearing made it hard to locate my target.

“Don’t struggle,” the man said, tightening his grip on my arm.

He reached across me, trying to grab my other wrist.

“Forget you!” I yelled, and reared back and kneed him in the gut.

The creep grunted, let go of me, and stumbled backward, crashing into the cypress tree.

Suddenly freed from his grasp, I lost my balance and went tumbling to the ground. But what I landed on didn’t feel like dirt.

It was Earl, lying prone in the mud.

“What did you do to him?” I yelled, struggling to grab my Glock as the man in the robe came boomeranging back toward me.

“Freeze!” another voice sounded.

My attacker stopped dead in his tracks.

“Hold it right there,” Grayson said.

Dressed in black from head to toe, Grayson looked like a shadow come to life as he stepped out of the underbrush and into the scant moonlight. I spotted the glint of his Ruger against the robed-guy’s ribs.

“Don’t shoot!” the man said. “It’s me.”

“Me who?” I grunted.

“Jimmy Wells! Garth’s brother!”

“Geez!” I gasped. “What are you doing here? And what did you do to Earl?”

“There’s no time to explain,” Jimmy said, pulling down his hoodie so we could see his face. “Help me. We need to get Earl out of here now, before it’s too late!”

Chapter Thirty Seven

“What did you do to him?” I asked Jimmy again, my hand on Earl’s chest. “He’s still breathing, thank God!”

“Nothing,” Jimmy said. “I only knocked him down, just to disorient him for a minute until you two could get here.”

“Oh,” I said, and slapped Earl gently on his cheeks, trying to rouse him. “Sorry about kicking you in the gut. I didn’t realize it was you. You’ve put on a few pounds since I saw you last.”

“Don’t worry. It didn’t hurt much,” Jimmy said, then rubbed his massive belly.

A branch snapped in the forest nearby. Silently, we all exchanged glances. Jimmy’s head jerked in the direction of the noise. His eyes narrowed. “Look,” he whispered, “like I said, I’ll explain later. But we need to get out of here, and fast.”

“Okay,” Grayson said. “Help me get Earl to his feet.”

“No time for that,” Jimmy said, his eyes growing wilder.

“We can’t just leave him here!” I hissed.

“No,” Jimmy said. “Stand aside. I’ll get him up.”

I shook my head. “How?”

“With this. Now step aside.”

The young cop knelt beside Earl and held up a small orb. “Hey, buddy,” he said, slapping Earl’s face a bit harder than I had. “You looking for this?”

Earl’s eyes fluttered open. He grunted, then began flailing his arms and legs like a turtle trying to turn itself over.

“Grab him,” Grayson said. “Or he’ll head off into the woods.”

“No he won’t,” Jimmy said. “Let him be. He’ll follow me.” He turned back to face Earl. “Right, buddy?”

Jimmy got off his knees. Earl scrambled to his feet.

“It’s right here,” Jimmy said, holding up the orb. “Come and get it!”

Jimmy took off toward the RV. Earl fumbled at first, then found his bearings and stumbled after Jimmy like an inebriated hippo.

“Wow,” I said, sloshing through the swampy muck with Grayson. “That was weird.”

“I agree,” Grayson said. “Jimmy runs surprisingly fast for a fat man.”

WHEN WE ARRIVED BACK at the RV, Jimmy was dancing around beside it, playing keep-away with Earl.

“Hurry!” Jimmy yelled as Grayson and I sprinted toward him. “We’ve only got a few seconds before he goes nuts! You still have that monster trap in the back bedroom of this RV, right?”

“Yes,” Grayson said.

“Good.” Jimmy gasped, huffing from exertion. “We need to get Earl in there. Now!”

Garth flung open the side door to the RV. “Jimmy! It’s you!”

“Yes, it’s me. Now step aside, little brother. You’ve got company!”

Jimmy ran past Garth and into the RV. Earl bumbled behind him like a muddy Frankenstein. I ran up to the door and looked inside, stunned to see Jimmy take the round object in his hand and fling it down the hallway toward the bedroom. Earl scrambled past him down the hall like a rabid dog after a filet mignon.

“Hurry! Lock him in!” Jimmy yelled at me.

“Why?” I asked. “I don’t understand.”

“I’ll explain once we’ve got him secured,” he yelled back. “Come on! He’ll realize he’s been duped any second.”

I eyed Jimmy skeptically. “I don’t think you know Earl like I do.”

“No, I don’t,” Jimmy said. “But I know the craving.”

My gut flopped. “The craving?”

“Yes. Now lock him up in there—before it’s too late!”

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Grayson checked the eight locks sealing Earl into the back bedroom monster trap, then shot Jimmy a thumb’s up. “Well, we won’t have to worry about your cousin wandering off to a buffet again any time soon. Thanks again for your help getting him to go in there.”

“Glad to be of service,” Jimmy said. He peeked nervously out the blinds. “But I think we should get a move on, just in case we were followed.”

“Good thinking,” Grayson said, and walked to the driver’s cab.

Jimmy and I followed him, vying for the empty passenger seat. I won. I flopped into my chair and celebrated with a Tootsie Pop. Jimmy stood in the gangway between us like a bodyguard, holding onto the back of both seats.

Grayson cranked the engine and eased the RV off the muddy shoulder of the road.

“Thanks for talking Garth into following us back with Earl’s truck,”