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

I rolled my eyes. “Or maybe she just wants to get home in time to watch The Bachelor.”

“Excellent work, everyone,” Grayson said, ignoring my remark. “Tonight, we’ll follow Queen Kristie, find the location of the portal, then figure out how to jump-start the wormhole ourselves.”

“Sure. Sounds simple enough,” I quipped.

“I’m glad you think so,” Grayson said. “We leave at quarter to seven. I suggest we all wear either camo or black.”

I smirked. “You make it sound like we’re heading off to battle, Grayson.”

Grayson shot me a serious look. “Perhaps we are.”

He turned to Garth and Jimmy. “This may be our last stand, gentlemen. But Drex, you shouldn’t have anything to worry about. It appears Queen Kristie is only interested in taking men’s lives—as is the custom during wartime.”

“Wartime?” I said.

“That’s not true,” Jimmy said.

I breathed a sigh of relief. “War is a pretty strong word, Grayson.”

“Oh, the whole war thing could be right,” Jimmy said. “But not the men-only thing.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

Jimmy pursed his lips. “I just got off the phone with Thelma over at Juanita’s restaurant. Apparently, Wade’s girlfriend Connie has gone missing, too.”

Chapter Fifty-Six

Before Jimmy had dropped the bombshell that Wade’s girlfriend Connie had also gone missing, I’d comforted myself with the idea that only humans of the male persuasion were dumb enough to fall for Queen Bimbo’s blonde, big-bosomed, bacteria-laden charms.

But with that myth now busted, I felt a growing paranoia that, as a female, I also was in real danger.

I glanced up at Grayson, Garth and Jimmy, all crammed into the bench seat of Earl’s monster truck. Dressed in black, camo and flannel, they appeared ready to foolishly face whatever fickle fate awaited them.

My mind flitted back to Earl, battling for his life in the back of Grayson’s RV. If my cousin had known we were getting ready to face down Queen Cruller without him, he’d have rolled over in his filthy mattress.

“Come on, let’s go,” Grayson said. “Get in.”

Jimmy offered me a hand up.

I hesitated.

If three’s a crowd, then four’s a feel-up.

“Thanks,” I said. “But I think I’ll ride in the back.”

I SAT ON THE TOOLBOX in the back bed of Bessie and peered into the rear window at the men sitting solemnly with their weapons of war in their hands. As far as I could tell, they were all electronic.

“Turn here,” I heard Jimmy say.

I braced for the curve, then bounced like a toad in a sack as Grayson maneuvered the monster truck off the main road and down a dirt lane mired with potholes.

As we rode along, I was surprised to see an odd assortment of vehicles parked on the side of the dirt road. Grayson pulled the truck into a space between a Lincoln Town Car and an eight-seater golf cart sporting a festive trimming of gold-tassel fringe.

“Let’s roll,” Grayson said, shifting into park. The engine cut off and everyone piled out.

Grayson ambled over to a ragged-out pickup truck and peered into the passenger window. “Intriguing. It appears the men’s addiction has escalated. There’s evidence here of habitation.”

I let out a sarcastic laugh. “Yeah. Or these losers could just be living in their cars because their wives threw them out.”

“That’s a point we’ll have to ponder later,” Grayson said. “Right now, we’ve got bigger fish to fry.”

He nodded toward the woods. Just above the treetops, I spotted an all-too-familiar, faint, orange glow.

“Destiny awaits,” he said. “And it’s born of fire.”

I sighed.

Super. I only hope we don’t all go up in smoke.

WE’D BEEN HUNKERED in the bushes beside the clearing for the better part of an hour. But so far, the only thing we’d managed to infiltrate was a motherlode of mosquitos. Just my luck, the three geeks surrounding me had brought every stupid contraption known to man—except for mosquito repellent.

Over by the bonfire, Queen Kristie was up to her usual feminine wiles, charming fat guys in robes with her donuts and her doodads.

Grayson’s eyes were glued to a pair of binoculars, trying to read her lips. “It’s no use,” he said, lowering his spyware. “I can’t hear what Queen Kristie is saying. Jimmy, we’re going to need you to sneak into the meeting.”

“I can’t,” he said, swatting at a mosquito.

“Why not?” Grayson asked. “You brought the robe, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. But Tooth ate my fat suit.” He nodded toward the circle of men in robes. “Look at those guys. They’re huge! I can’t blend in anymore.”

Grayson frowned. “You’re right. You’ll stick out like a toothpick in a sausage factory.”

“Ward!” Garth said.

“What? Where?” Jimmy grabbed his brother by the shoulders. “Point him out to me!”

“Uh ... sorry,” Garth said. “I meant WWARD. What would Randi do?”

I blew out a sigh.

He’d kick all your rotten heads in, that’s what he’d do!

“I know,” I quipped. “Why don’t we all just go home, and come back after we’ve gained three hundred pounds?”

“Three hundred pounds,” Grayson muttered. His eyebrow shot up like Spock’s. “Earl!”

“Of course,” Jimmy said. “He could get in there unnoticed! And, bless his heart, that man can do the Cruller Holler like nobody’s business!”

“Then it’s settled,” Grayson said. His glowing green eyes zeroed in on me. “Bobbie, you’ve got to talk Earl into it.”

Chapter Fifty-Seven

Mercifully, I’d had overnight to figure out how to communicate with my incoherent cousin in a language he’d understand. Unmercifully, I’d had to spend that same overnight curled up in the front seat of Earl’s monster truck—wrapped up inside his Superman sleeping bag.

I woke up and rubbed my sore neck. Then I peeled out of the bedroll, climbed down out of Bessie, and went in search of a hot cup of java.

Little did I realize that there wasn’t enough coffee in the world to prepare me for the task I was about to face

I’D DECIDED ON A POP Tart—hooked to a fishing line.

I’d slowly, silently slid open the eight deadbolts securing Earl within the monster trap ... then I’d