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

As it turned out, our troubles were just getting started.

At the break of dawn, I was woken by the sound of someone banging frantically on the side door of the RV.

“Geez. What now?”

I sat up. The throbbing in my head made me wince. I glanced at my phone. It was a few minutes before six a.m.

“Awesome.”

I climbed out of bed, leaving Grayson sleeping like a log, and stumbled into the main room of the cabin.

The knock sounded again. I took a covert peek between the blinds. Garth was standing outside the window, his nose and buck teeth glowing in the moonlight like a deranged Rudolph nightmare. I was beginning to think it was the Boone’s Farm when he spotted me and began to wave frantically.

“What’s wrong?” I groused, yanking open the door.

“Pandora!” he yelled. “Someone broke in and wrecked my place!”

I pictured the inside of the brothers’ nasty, hoarder trailer jam-packed with crap. “How can you tell?”

Garth squinted and pushed his glasses up on his nose. “They left the refrigerator door open.”

Seriously?

“Could Jimmy have done it?” I asked, contemplating slamming the door in his mullet-topped face.

“No. He’s too energy conscious.”

A pain shot through my throbbing head. “How about Tooth?”

“No,” Garth insisted, shaking his head. “The beer’s still in there.”

I let that gem of knowledge ping around in my sleepy brain for a moment, then offered one more possible solution. “Raccoons?”

“Not possible. We sealed the roof vent up tight last time that happened.”

“Uh-huh,” I grunted.

“Pandora, I think the intruder has to be of human or semi-human origin. This kind of damage generally requires opposable thumbs.”

He waggled his thumbs at me. I glanced skyward.

Why is this happening to me?

“Can you come take a look?” he asked.

I blew out a sigh. “Okay. Give me a minute to wake Grayson.”

I shut the door, turned around, and slammed straight into something hard and dark. I looked up to see Grayson’s green eyes staring down at me in the dim light.

“Go back to bed,” he said. “I’ll take it from here.”

“You heard all that?” I asked.

But he didn’t answer.

Instead, like a ninja in black, Grayson opened the door and disappeared with Garth into the moonlit junkyard.

Chapter Thirty

By the time the guys returned, I’d showered, dressed, and slurped down two cups of coffee. In other words, I had attained a conversation-capable level of consciousness.

“So, what did you two find out?” I asked, pouring Grayson and Garth cups of coffee as they scooted into the banquette. “Let me guess. Did Bigfoot do it?”

“Not unless he plays the bongos,” Grayson said.

“What?” I said, nearly spilling the coffee I was handing the men.

“Nothing’s missing except for some food,” Garth said. “And my set of bongos.”

“Oh.” I pivoted back to the kitchen counter to collect the third cup I’d poured for my cousin. “Wait. Where’s Earl?”

Garth and Grayson locked eyes, then glanced up at me.

“We haven’t see him,” Grayson said. “I better go check the truck.”

EARL USUALLY SLEPT in the front seat of Bessie. But the big, black monster truck, was empty. Splayed out on the bench seat was Earl’s Superman sleeping bag—and most of the clothes he’d had on last night.

It was as if he’d been beamed up from inside his bedroll.

“This doesn’t look good,” Grayson said.

I winced. “I know. But he’s had that Superman bag since he was a kid.”

“No. I meant this.” Grayson reached into the truck and pulled out an empty bag of Reese’s Pieces.

“So? I’m not following you,” I said.

Grayson reached in and pulled out two more empty candy bags. “How about now?”

WE FOUND EARL HALF naked, sprawled out in a ditch behind Garth’s doublewide like ET after a bongo rave.

His belly was swollen like a toad’s. His face was red and feverish. And Earl’s arms and legs were covered with minor scratches, as if he’d fought off a pack of rabid gerbils.

It took all three of us to get him up out of the ditch and into the RV. We were all huffing and puffing as we laid him out on the broke-back sofa adjacent to the banquette.

“What happened to him?” Garth asked. “You think he has rabies or something?”

“I don’t know,” Grayson said.

“What about yellow fever?” Garth asked.

Grayson’s eyes widened.

I gasped. “You don’t really think it’s yellow fever, do you?”

“No,” Grayson said, his eyes darting around the RV. “I just remembered the yellow oscilloscope. We need to return it. Where is it?”

“How should I know?” I grumbled. “And who cares about that right now? We need—”

“Y ... you lost it?” Garth stammered. “Holy Gorn clubs! We’ve got to find it! And fast!”

Grayson chewed his bottom lip. “It must’ve fallen out of my pocket last night.”

My nose crinkled. “What’s the big deal, guys?”

“We’re supposed to have it back by noon,” Garth said, his voice rising with panic.

“So?” I glanced down at my cousin. “What about Earl?”

Grayson shook his head. “I’m afraid Garth’s right. Finding the oscilloscope takes priority.”

“Why?” I demanded.

Grayson’s green eyes locked on mine. “You obviously haven’t met Sherman’s mother.”

My mouth fell open “Seriously?”

“I think he’s fine for now,” Grayson said, laying a hand on Earl’s forehead. “His fever’s gone. It’s most likely he just OD’d on sugar.”

Grayson turned to me. “Drex, I want you to come with me to search for the scope. Garth, you stay here and keep an eye on Earl. Make sure he drinks plenty of water—and don’t let him have any more Reese’s Pieces.”

Garth pushed his glasses up on his red nose. “I’m on it, Mr. Gray.”

“Ugh. Fine,” I grumbled, grabbing my purse. I knew there was no point in arguing with Grayson when he was in “mission mode.” I grabbed the keys from his hand. “This had better not take long. And I’m driving.”

“I agree to your terms,” Grayson said, making me blanch.

“Uh ... good,” I said. “Then let’s get this over with.”

I tramped out of the RV and over to Earl’s truck. I stepped up on the running board and flung open the door, then pushed