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

Chapter Forty-One

"Aack!" I screeched, as a pork-chop sized hunk of Jimmy’s neck fell off. I scrambled out of the banquette like my hair was on fire. “He’s turning into ... into one of them!”

“Relax!” Jimmy said, peeling off his double chin like it was a neck brace. “It’s foam rubber. I’m wearing a fat suit.”

My jaw hit the floor. “But .... Why?”

“Ha!” Grayson said, and pounded his fist once on the table. “I knew you ran too fast for a fat man!”

“Don’t worry, Ms. Drex! It’s part of my undercover disguise,” Jimmy said. “Like I told you, I noticed all the guys in the Cruller clan were getting fat. So I had Sherman’s mom make me up. She’s a master of disguise, you know.”

“Uh ... yeah,” I said. “I saw her human bulldog mask.”

The guys all stared at me, not uttering a word.

I grimaced. “That was no mask, was it?”

Jimmy pursed his lips and shook his head. Then he held up his fake chin. “Anyway, I wore this to fit in. Once I noticed everyone ballooning up, I thought I’d better follow suit.”

Grayson laughed. “Follow suit, fat suit. I get it.”

Garth grabbed the rubber chin and shot me a buck-toothed grin. “Like I said before, Pandora. You can get anything on Amazon.”

Still reeling slightly, I shot Jimmy a weak smile. “Uh, sure. It makes perfect sense now. So Jimmy, you’ve actually been attending these bonfire meetings?”

Jimmy nodded. “A couple.”

“Well, what have you learned?” I asked.

“Not a whole lot. At the beginning, the guys line up and eat the wafer thing. Then they stand around while Queen Kristie talks. I’ve tried to listen to what she’s saying, but I can’t seem to retain anything. I just zone out, nod and smile.”

My brow furrowed. I glanced over at Grayson. “You think she might be hypnotizing them?”

“Unlikely,” he said. “From what I’ve observed, that’s what normally happens to a man when a woman speaks.” Grayson winked at Jimmy. “Son, that’s your survival instinct kicking in.”

I smiled tersely and kicked Grayson’s shin under the table. “Jimmy dear, before you uh ... tune out, have you been able to remember anything Queen Cruller’s said?”

He shook his head, his now slim, pinkish neck looking like a plucked turkey neck compared to his still fat foam-rubber body.

“Nothing that makes sense, Ms. Drex. From what I could gather, it’s mostly sales mumbo jumbo. Percentages, infestation rates, that kind of stuff.”

I nearly swallowed my tonsils. “Infestation rates?”

Jimmy bit his lip. “Uh ... she might’ve said penetration rates.”

Garth snickered.

I grimaced.

Geez. Which is worse?

“What else happens during the meetings?” Grayson asked. “Concentrate. Any detail may prove significant.”

Jimmy thought for a moment, then spoke, looking at the ceiling as if recalling the scene play by play.

“At the end of each meeting, Queen Kristie draws her sword and points it to the sky. She stomps her feet. Then she lets out a weird yell.”

“I think we’ve heard that,” Grayson said. “Like someone throttling a yodeler?”

“Yes!” Jimmy said. “I call it the Cruller Holler.”

“What happens next?” I asked.

“The men holler back. Queen Kristie lowers her sword, and all the men follow her lead, like they’re her soldiers or something. From what I can tell, that concludes the official part of her meeting. Afterward, the guys either run through hot coals or disperse back to their vehicles.”

Grayson rubbed his chin. “So this actually could simply be some kind of ‘pep rally,’ just as Garth said.”

Garth beamed with buck-toothed pride.

“Maybe,” I said. “But a pep-rally for what? She could be building a sales team or an army of soldiers. We need to find out more about this Queen Kristie chick.”

“Absolutely,” Grayson agreed. He turned to Jimmy. “Have you tried tailing her?”

Garth snickered. I rolled my eyes.

“Yeah, I’ve tried,” Jimmy said. “But so far, I haven’t been able to see where Queen Kristie goes after the meetings. I’ve followed her down Whirlwind Trail twice, but it’s like she disappears into thin air.”

“Maybe she just takes off her robe and turns sideways,” I said sourly. “The woman’s a donut pusher and she’s as thin as a stick. Something isn’t right about that. As my grandma Selma always said, never trust a skinny cook.”

“Don’t hate her because she’s beautiful,” Jimmy said.

“Beautiful?” I hissed. “I got a quick look at her when Earl went up to Miss Queenie’s ‘throne’ to eat that damned wafer thing. If you ask me, there was something oddly inhuman about her face. You know. Like a Kardashian.”

“Hmm,” Grayson said. “This information could change everything.” His glowing green eyes locked onto Jimmy, who was tugging at the torn neck of fat suit as if it were itchy. “You said the first time you were offered a wafer, you put it in your mouth.”

“She did,” Jimmy said. “But I didn’t swallow.”

Grayson’s eyes narrowed. “Why not?”

Jimmy leaned back in the booth. “I was suspicious.”

“That it was part of a cult initiation?” Grayson asked.

“No,” Jimmy said. “Because crullers don’t have holes.”

“Yes!” Grayson pounded his fist on the table again. “My thoughts exactly! Excellent deductive reasoning, Jimmy.”

You’ve got to be kidding me...

“So,” Grayson said, leaning over the table toward fake-fat Jimmy. “Did you note any effects from your brief oral contact with the suspicious donut hole?”

“Actually, now that you mention it, yes,” Jimmy said. “I felt ... a jolt of euphoria. I immediately thought the wafer might contain Ecstasy or LSD or something. So I spit it out and slipped it into my pocket. Then I started to feel anxious.”

“That’s understandable,” I said, “considering you were surrounded by weirdos in robes, dancing around a damned bonfire.”

“Yeah,” Jimmy said. “But what I felt was more than just anxiety. It was ... I dunno ... a hollow, unsatisfied feeling.”

“Are you saying you felt hungry?” I asked.

Jimmy chewed his lip. “Yeah. Sort of. But it was a strange kind of hunger. I’d call it more of a craving. When I got home, no matter what I ate, I didn’t feel satisfied. Like when you eat something sweet, then you eat something