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

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