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

Now, I think we should let you rest up, Drex. You’re getting released tomorrow.”

“Finally!” I said.

“If you’re up for it, I’d like to take you to visit the grave of our fallen comrade.”

I gulped. “Who died?”

Chapter Sixty-Nine

As promised, Grayson arrived at my hospital room at nine o’clock sharp. I figured I’d enjoy one last lie-in before I had to face the reality that I was broke—and so was Grayson. With no funds and no RV, our little enterprise seemed doomed to further exploration of the galaxy.

“Ready?” he asked, slipping his head inside the door.

“Get me out of here before Carl Blanders comes back,” I said, slipping my feet into my cowboy boots.

Grayson’s lip twitched at the sound of Carl’s name. I did a double take.

Could he actually be jealous?

I smirked.

Maybe he’s human after all...

“You still haven’t told me how things went with Queen Cruller,” I said. “Or who died.”

“I’m aware of that,” Grayson said, picking up my duffle bag. “But I think it’s better to wait until you’re out of here.”

My nose crinkled. “Why? Are you afraid I’ll scream or something?”

Grayson headed for the door. “I’ll opt for ‘or something.’”

“YOUR EYES LOOK RED,” Earl said as I walked into the hospital parking lot with Grayson. “Have you been crying?”

“No. Your eyes look glazed,” I quipped. “Have you been eating donuts?”

Earl grimaced. “No way. I’ve sworn off a them thangs for life.”

I glanced over at Bessie and did a double take. She was sporting a brand new periscope sticking up from the ceiling of her cab.

“What did you do to her?” I aked.

Earl grinned. “After I seen that one on that ol’ roach mobile, I just had to have me one.”

“Incredible,” Grayson said, shaking his head. “Did you install that last night?”

I laughed. “Grayson, you should be used to this by now.”

“Don’t worry none, Mr. G.,” Earl said. “My friend Danny says that sudden exposure to redneck engineering can throw some people into a discombobulated state of consciousness.”

I shook my head. “And you, my dear cousin, are definitely a redneck.”

“Thanky,” Earl said. “I take that as a compliment.”

“A compliment?” Grayson asked.

“Why shore,” Earl said. “After all, a redneck is just an entrepreneur with more imagination than money.”

I thought of our empty coffers and offered up a bittersweet smile. “I guess that makes us all rednecks now. So, where we going?”

“We’re off to the memorial of a beloved colleague,” Grayson said. “But first, we have an important stop to make.”

Chapter Seventy

We pulled into the parking lot of an old motel.

“The Imperial Motor Court?” I said sourly. “Gee, you shouldn’t have splurged.”

Jimmy and Garth piled out of their 1966 light-blue Chevy pickup and sprinted toward us.

“Hi, Pandora, Earl, and Mr. Gray!”

“Hi,” I said. “Excuse me, but what the hell are we doing here?”

“Actually, it was Jimmy who found this place,” Grayson said.

“By accident,” Jimmy said. “I was out on a robbery call when I spotted her.”

My nose crinkled. “Wade’s missing girlfriend, Connie?”

“No,” Jimmy said. “Queen Kristie.”

I’D BEEN CHOMPING AT the bit to know what happened with Queen Kristie, but Grayson had been chomping at the bit for tacos. After a quick vote all around, he and the guys had won. The five of us piled back into our vehicles and traded the Imperial Court Motel for a booth by the window at Juanita’s Casa del Tacos.

“So, what the frick and frack happened?” I asked after patiently waiting for Thelma to take the men’s orders.

“I was out on a routine robbery call last week,” Jimmy said. “Some guy complaining some woman had ripped him off.”

“Goody. So what happened?”

“He told me the woman was in Room 13 at the motor court. So I walked over, gun drawn. The woman inside was Queen Kristie.”

“How’d you know it was her?” I asked.

“She was, believe me,” Jimmy said. “She was blonde, tanned, big bosom—”

“Yeah, I get the picture,” I said. “But what evidence do you have it was her out in the woods running those bonfire meetings?”

“Well, for one thing, she had about a hundred robes in her room she’d stolen from a one-day stint as a maid at the Royal Inn & Day Spa.”

“That’s hardly conclusive,” I said.

“She also had a box of donut holes and a baggie full of ecstasy,” Jimmy said.

“Well, okay, but—”

“And the guy whose wallet she stole said she told him to call her Queen Kristie.”

“Fine,” I said. “So, what about Wade?”

“I got a call from him last weekend,” Jimmy said. “It seems he and Connie decided to run off and start a new life together in New Jersey.”

I glanced over at Grayson. “So much for your ‘sucked up into a portal’ theory.”

He shrugged. “New Jersey. Alpha Centauri. They both have their own unique appeals.”

“So this whole thing really was just some hot bimbo duping guys out of their money?” I asked.

“That’s one theory,” Garth said. “Right, Mr. Gray?”

“How stupid can some guys be?” I asked.

Grayson rubbed his chin. “All humans are to some degree biologically prone to intellectual laziness, emotional decision-making, confirmation bias, and other natural impulses that often obstruct critical thinking.”

I smirked. “Is that your way of saying you were wrong?”

Grayson shrugged. “I wouldn’t go that far. We still haven’t proven conclusively that she wasn’t on a mission from Krull.”

“Give me a break!” I said.

“I’m serious,” Grayson said. “How else can you explain what happened to the RV?”

I frowned. “I thought you said it was destroyed.”

“No. I said it was lost.”

I shot him a look. “What’s the difference?”

“Well, a lot, actually,” he said. “Besides the door handle that hit you in the head, not a trace of the RV could be found.”

“It’s like it just vanished,” Jimmy said.

“Into a space butthole,” Earl said.

“Come on, you guys!” I said, hoping this was just a joke. “What really happened to that stupid RV?”

“I have two theories,” Grayson said. “One, the RV could’ve been vaporized by the phosphoric blast. Or two, we foiled Queen Kristie’s plan and blew up her portal, leaving her stranded on Earth