Scatman Dues (Freaky Florida Mystery Adventures Book 6) by Margaret Lashley (ereader for android TXT) 📕

dunno,” I said. “But on the bright side, Jimmy’s still alive.”

“Yes,” Grayson said. “But from the sound of it, he’s in more trouble than I thought.”

Chapter Eighteen

Jimmy’s mysterious call had put our investigation back to square one. He hadn’t been swallowed up by a wormhole—unless intergalactic rights allowed you one phone call home. Instead, it was more likely a game of hide and seek. Jimmy was alive and well—but for some reason he didn’t want us to find him.

At least, that’s the impression I’d gotten from his tone over the phone, anyway. Instead, Jimmy had tried to warn me of something. But what? Garth’s cough had obliterated his message.

“What do you think Jimmy was talking about?” I asked Garth. “He said, ‘Whatever you do, don’t—’ Don’t what?”

“I dunno,” Garth said, then wiped his nose on his flannel sleeve.

“Why’d he hang up?” I asked.

“Perhaps he thought his message had been received,” Grayson said. “Being a cop, Jimmy’s savvy enough to know his location could be tracked via his phone, so he made it short and quick. He’s obviously turned off the GPS tracking option so we can’t find him. But we still have one advantage, while it lasts.”

“What’s that?” Earl asked.

“Jimmy still isn’t aware that Operative Garth’s planted his own phone inside his brother’s gym bag.”

“How do you know that?” Earl asked.

“Because he had to get within wifi range to call Bobbie,” Grayson said, then flashed Earl the display on his cellphone. “As soon as he was within range, the GPS app began signaling again.”

I glanced at the red blip moving across Grayson’s phone display. “Where is he?” I asked.

“He’s heading south on Turkey Creek Road,” Grayson said, slipping the phone into his shirt pocket. “Bingo. Let’s roll.”

THE SUN WAS HANGING low in the sky as we peeled out of Garth’s compound and sped down the rural backroad in the direction of the red blip marking Jimmy’s position.

“What’s the game plan, Mr. G.?” Earl asked, swerving to avoid a flattened roadkill possum.

“Ward,” Grayson said, staring out the windshield and tapping his chin with a long, tapered index finger.

My nose crinkled. “What would Amazing Randi do?”

Grayson stopped tapping and stared at me. “No. I meant that waitress’ cousin. What’s his name?”

“Wade,” I said.

Grayson gave a quick nod. “Right. We should keep an eye out for him. I feel more certain than ever he’s involved in whatever Jimmy’s gotten himself tangled up with.”

I winced at the thought. “You thinking drug dealing or something like that?”

Grayson pushed up the brim of his fedora with the same spidery index finger. “Intergalactic drug trade. I hadn’t considered that.”

“Pill-pushin’ pimps from Pluto!” Earl blurted with glee.

I shook my head. “Speaking of tangled up in problems, why on Earth did Earl have to come with us this time?”

“We need Bessie,” Grayson said. “Unless you want to get stuck in the mud again. I told Earl we might have to go in the back way, like we did last night.”

Earl snickered.

I turned and shot him a glare that could explode molten lava. I raised my fist. “Say one word and you’re gonna be the next missing person on that Paulides guy’s list.”

Earl sucked his lips inside his mouth and shifted Bessie into overdrive.

Grayson checked the GPS tracker again. “Slow down, Earl. Looks like we’re closing in on Jimmy.”

“You got it, Chief,” Earl said, easing up on the pedal.

Suddenly, Grayson slapped the dashboard with his palm. “Dammit!”

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Beat’s me,” Earl said. “I didn’t hit a turtle nor nuthin’.”

“The signal vanished,” Grayson said. “Pull over, Earl. Now!”

Earl hit the brakes and eased Bessie on to the soggy shoulder of the road. Grayson rolled down the window.

“The last point the GPS tracker indicated was somewhere over it that direction,” Grayson said, pointing to a patch of cypress swamp.

I grimaced at the marshy muck on the side of the road. “What do we do now?”

Grayson tucked the phone into his pocket. “Elementary. Put on our duckies and wade.”

“Great.” I reached for the insect repellent sitting in the holder by Earl’s YETI drink cup. “Stay here and guard the truck, Earl.”

Earl pouted. “But I wanna see me one a them angora boar’s asses.”

“Aurora borealis,” I said through gritted teeth. “And that wasn’t what we saw last night!”

Earl eyed me skeptically. “Then what was it?”

“Most likely an emission of natural phosphorescent,” Grayson said.

“You mean like that over there?” Earl asked, and pointed out the windshield.

I glared at my cousin. “I’m not falling for that stupid joke, burrito breath.”

“Yes, exactly like that,” I heard Grayson say.

I turned and stared. There in the woods to our right was the same reddish-orange glow I’d seen last night.

My mouth fell open.

“Good spotting, Earl,” Grayson said. “Looks like we’ve found the right spot.”

“All right!” Earl hollered, reaching for the door handle. “Let’s roll!”

“No,” I said. “I told you. You’re staying here. Right, Grayson?”

Grayson shrugged. “Let him come.”

“Why?” I whined.

“Like I said before. There’s safety in numbers.”

“Yeah,” I grumbled. “But you forget. Earl doesn’t count.”

Chapter Nineteen

“Do we really have to do this tonight?” I asked, pulling on a pair of rubber galoshes I’d had the foresight to bring after ruining my cowboy boots tromping through the mushy terrain last night.

“It’s called an investigation for a reason,” Grayson said. “You know. We investigate stuff.”

“I know,” I grumbled. “But you said last night this thing could be emitting microwave radiation. Shouldn’t we be wearing some kind of protective gear? I’m not exactly in the mood to have my ovaries turned into Hot Pockets.”

“That was just a working theory I espoused at the time, due to lack of data,” Grayson said, tucking the EMF detector into his jacket. “It’s far more likely we’re looking at some sort of natural phosphorescent phenomenon.”

I shot him a skeptical look. “So now you’re saying phosphorous can drain cellphone batteries, bellow like a mad cow, and then come charging after us?”

Grayson shrugged. “The batteries could’ve malfunctioned.”

“Mr. G.’s right,” Earl said. “And as far as the bellerin’, you could a just been