Scatman Dues (Freaky Florida Mystery Adventures Book 6) Margaret Lashley (ink ebook reader txt) 📖

I glanced away. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Jimmy sighed. “Well, anyway, it was that kind of feeling—only on steroids.”

“What did you do to satiate this feeling?” Grayson asked.

Jimmy looked down at the table. “It was pretty overwhelming. I didn’t feel like I could fight it. So I took a sleeping pill to knock myself out, and slept the whole night. When I woke up, I felt okay.”

“So you slept off the effects,” Grayson said. “How long did it take?”

“I woke up at close to noon,” Jimmy said. “So, I guess twelve hours?”

“And that was from just a taste,” I said. “Earl ate the whole thing.”

“So did Wade,” Jimmy said. “And now he’s missing. Like I said, I think there’s a lot more going on here than a bunch of country folks on a sales jamboree.”

All of a suddenly, an unearthly howl reverberated from the back bedroom.

Jimmy winced. “Whatever’s going on here, Earl’s got it bad. He just let out one hell of a Cruller Holler.”

Chapter Forty-Two

Earl let out another horrible holler and began banging on the door to the back bedroom.

I winced. “What’s going to happen to him?”

“I don’t know,” Jimmy said. “But if you don’t keep him caged up in there, he could disappear like Wade did.”

“From the sound of it, he’s going to have to detox,” Grayson said.

“I agree,” I said. “How long will that take?”

“Uncertain,” Grayson said. “Perhaps a day. Maybe more, depending on his metabolism.”

“He sounds terrible,” Jimmy said. “Are you sure he only ate one of those donut-hole things?”

“No,” I said. “But, I mean, where else could he have gotten ahold of any?”

“Wait,” Garth said, his eyes growing large. He elbowed his brother. “That bag of those crullers you brought home—”

Jimmy blanched. “You got my message not to eat them, didn’t you?”

Garth pushed his glasses up on his nose. “That’s what your weird message was about?”

“Yes,” Jimmy said, grabbing his brother by the shoulders. “I said, ‘Whatever you do, don’t eat them.’” He glanced up at me. “You got the text, right? Please! Tell me you didn’t eat them!”

“I didn’t,” Garth said, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “This rotten cold’s ruined my appetite for sweets.”

“Neither did we,” I said.

“Thank God,” Jimmy said, then blew out a breath. “We need to destroy those things before they fall into the wrong hands.”

Earl hollered again like a goat with a yodeling problem.

Garth gasped and shook his head. “If I’m right about this, I think we’re too late for that.”

GARTH WAS RIGHT. WE found the empty donut bag in the ditch, right where we’d found Earl lying about like a hobo gambler who’d just lost his last game of strip poker.

“It’s official,” Jimmy said, holding up the mangled paper bag. “Your cousin Earl ate them all.”

“Good grief,” I said, horror filling my gut. “Earl doesn’t have enough spare brain cells to survive this!”

“What are we gonna do?” Garth asked, chewing on a fingernail.

Grayson shook his head. “His detoxification could take weeks. Or he may never return to normal.”

“Even if he did,” I said, shaking my head, “how would we ever be able to tell?”

JIMMY CAME OUT OF THE restroom carrying thirty pounds of foam rubber in a giant Walmart bag. In his deflated clothes, and with patches of foam on his face, he looked like the sole survivor of a post-apocalyptic Weight Watchers marathon.

I poured him a cup of coffee. “How’d you know where we would be tonight, Jimmy?”

“After I saw Earl stumble into the meeting the night before last, I knew you were in town,” Jimmy said. “I figured you’d come in through the swamp from the main road. I found your tire tracks and waited to see if you showed up.”

“Why didn’t you just call us?” I asked.

“I should have. But I wanted to keep Garth out of this, and I wanted to protect you guys from whatever’s going on out there. But as soon as I spotted Earl, I knew he had the craving. I was too late.”

“I’m curious,” Grayson said. “If what’s happening to Earl is also happening to all those other men, why hasn’t anyone else reported it?”

“I think I’ve got this one,” I said, raising my index finger. “Let’s see. A bunch of middle-aged men overeating, ignoring their spouses, grunting like wild boars, and gallivanting at night with no good explanation when they get home. Gee. I haven’t got a clue why their wives would think something odd is afoot.”

Grayson and Jimmy exchanged glances, then shrugged.

Suddenly, something scratched at the side door and whined.

“That must be Garth,” Jimmy said. “He’s back from feeding Tooth.”

Suddenly, the side door to the RV flung open. In the doorframe, a pair of yellow eyes and fangs greeted us.

“Tooth!” Jimmy said, calling to the massive black hound.

The dog jumped inside and leapt up in the booth with Jimmy.

“How are you, boy?” Jimmy asked, rubbing the slobbering hound’s ears. He glanced up at his brother. “Tooth looks skinny. Have you been feeding him?”

“Of course,” Garth said. “But apparently not enough.”

“Why?” Jimmy asked. “Did he get into the garbage again?”

Garth shook his head. “No. Earl beat him to it. But he snuck out of the gate this evening. I think he ate a roadkill possum.”

“You think he did?” Jimmy grimaced and wiped his slobbery face with a sleeve.

“Pretty sure. You saved me the tail, didn’t you boy?” Garth said, patted the dog’s massive head.

The dog licked Garth’s face, then lunged for the wafer in the baggie on the table. Grayson snatched it away in the nick of time.

“Not today, Doggie Wonder. I need to analyze this,” Grayson said, tucking the baggie into his shirt pocket. He turned to Jimmy. “Tell me. Besides the craving to eat more donuts, have you noted any other side-effects among the Cruller clan?”

All of a sudden, from the backroom came an unearthly banging.

“Let me outta here!” Earl yelled. “I gotta use the toilet! Bad!”

“Uh ...,” Jimmy