Golem in My Glovebox (18 page)

“Looks like you’re having a bit of trouble,” he said.

You have no freaking idea.

“Yes, sir,” Riley said, shaking the officer’s hand. “I think we’ve just about got it, though.”

“California plates,” he said, pushing back his hat. “Where you folks headed?”

My grin felt artificial. I knew I looked suspicious.
Oh
,
God
,
he’s going to frisk me
,
and I have a list of Bigfoot witnesses in my pocket.
I swallowed. “Branson.”

He nodded in approval. “Nice. We go to Branson couple times a year. The kids love it.”

Riley struggled with the lug nuts in an effort to hurry. It might’ve gone faster if I’d helped, but I leaned against the back passenger door, looking as casual as I could, blocking the window.

The officer made his way over and ducked his head to look. “Branson’s a great family place. You have kids back there?”

The car shifted and sank as Riley lowered the jack.

“That’s my brother,” Riley said.

The cop tried again to peer inside. “Sure would like to meet him.”

“I’m sure he would love to meet you, too. Unfortunately, it’s still light out. My brother has a condition. When we open the doors to get in and out, he has to stay covered or the sunlight will burn him.”

The police officer frowned. “You trying to tell me he’s a vampire, son?”

Riley chuckled. “No, sir. He’s sick.” He paused, then lowered his voice, as if trying not to let Maurice hear. “In fact, he’s dying. We’re taking him to Branson so he can see it all lit up. It’s his last wish.”

The cop’s face clouded, and he nodded his head. “Branson’s a good place.” He patted Riley on the shoulder. “Have a safe trip. God bless you, son.”

“Thank you, sir.”

He returned to his patrol car and climbed in.

Riley shut the hatch, and we both waved at the officer.

“What’s he doing?” I asked, without moving my lips much.

“Probably running our plates, just in case.”

“Fair enough. I guess it’s possible we made up such an unlikely story.”

We got back in the car and buckled in.

Riley started the engine, and we pulled back on the road. He stuck his tongue at me. “I didn’t hear you coming up with anything better.”

“I panicked. Sorry.”

Maurice piped up from the back seat. “Did I hear you say I’m dying?”

* * *

Thanks to the flat tire, we didn’t roll into Branson until close to eleven. Those of us who had done the driving minded the late hour, but later was better, as far as Maurice was concerned.

And Branson
was
lit up like a tiny Vegas to welcome him. Colored lights advertised every sort of show, from singing and dancing, to magic and comedy. Country entertainers competed against opera singers and trained animals to pull people in off the streets.

Maurice unbuckled his seatbelt and moved back and forth between windows, squealing like an excited child. “Zoey, it’s King Kong! Do you see him?”

I laughed. “He’s three stories tall, I can’t miss him.”

Gris, sitting on Maurice’s shoulder, was every bit as amazed at his first look at the town. “Is that the Titanic? I love that movie! I wish we could go into the museum.”

Maurice pressed his face against the window. “Ohmygosh, can we get frozen custard and ride go-carts?”

His excitement simultaneously delighted me and made my heart hurt. Maybe I shouldn’t have allowed him to come with us. Showing him things he could never actually do was cruel.

“We need sleep, Maurice,” I said. “Maybe we can figure out a disguise for you or something once we get through this.”

“Really?”

“I’m not promising anything. Maybe.”

What a bitch.
Somebody should shoot me.
I
am the worst kind of person.

Riley understood both my discomfort and Maurice and Gris’s excitement. Despite the late hour, we drove up and down the main strip three or four times before getting a hotel room for the night. Our boys got several eyefuls and seemed content.

The experience gave me a new perspective on Gris. While he was ogling a brightly lit Elvis memorial, I sent a delicate probe his way to check on his emotions. The small campfire I’d felt in him before burned on its own. In fact, it seemed a little brighter, a little larger than it had been. I might have poured some emotional kerosene in there to get it going, but it was maintaining itself without my help. Gris was becoming something more.

Neither the monster nor the golem needed to sleep, but we did. We paid for a full suite so the boys could have a kitchen and living room while Riley and I had our own bedroom away from them. My intention had been to send Maurice home once we got there, but I didn’t have the heart.

“Let them have a slumber party,” I said, yawning and snuggling into Riley’s arms for the night. “We’ll figure it out tomorrow.”

He kissed the top of my head and wrapped his arms around me. “As long as the llama doesn’t eat it, martinis get in free.”

His gentle snores stirred my hair and made me smile. I followed him into sleep a minute later.

* * *

The smell of good coffee, bacon, and homemade biscuits baking woke me in the morning.

I stretched and sat up. “I love you, Riley, but I think I may love Maurice a tiny bit more right now.”

Riley sniffed the air and grinned. “I’m going to marry that monster, someday. You’re on your own.”

Eggs, bacon, biscuits, honey. Maurice hadn’t made anything particularly special or gourmet, but it was all delicious. For Maurice, this was roughing it.

The kitchen in our suite had a small closet that held a broom, iron and ironing board. Maurice had squeezed into it and gone back to my house to get groceries from my fridge and pantry.

I would trade the ability to go to the Titanic museum for being able to travel through closets in a second. Then again, I didn’t really feel the urge to go to the Titanic museum, so it wasn’t a fair comparison.

After breakfast, Riley went off to shower, and Gris glued himself to the television to watch episodes of
Scooby Doo
.

Maurice sipped his coffee, a pensive look on his face. “I apologized to Stacy this morning.”

I raised my eyebrows. “You did?”

He nodded. “I was so mad at her for walking around in public like that. I never realized until last night how much I was missing by staying at home all the time. If I hadn’t been with you, I might have bolted from the car and run down the street last night. I wanted to see everything. I wanted to do everything.”

“I’m sorry, Maurice. I shouldn’t have let you come.”

“No, Zo. Don’t feel like that. I’m glad I got to see it.”

“Maybe when we get through all this we’ll go on a real vacation. I’ll figure something out.”

He patted my hand. “I know you will, Zo. First, let’s save your mom. Vacation can wait.”

* * *

Two hours later, Maurice was back at the house in California, Gris was absorbed by
Leave It to Beaver
reruns, and Riley and I hit the street.

Our hot tip from the all-seeing eyes and ears of the goblin call center told us the best place to go. We put ourselves in the predatory path of the scam artist’s assistant outside the Ripley’s Believe It or Not Museum.

I’d gone in earlier and bought a souvenir book in the gift shop so I’d have a bag with the name of the museum on it. We sat on a bench out front eating ice cream and swinging our legs, oohing over pictures of the Dog-faced Boy and the city of Venice recreated out of toothpicks. We were tourists interested in the strange and unusual.

We’d baited the trap. Now all we could do was wait.

It didn’t take long.

A woman in a spangled cowgirl outfit and the reddest, most sparkling lips I’d ever seen sat on the bench next to us. Her rhinestone hat was tall, but when she took it off and laid it across her lap, I could see her black, shiny hair was teased even taller.

She let out a deep, dramatic sigh and leaned against the bench.

“You folks don’t mind if I take up a teeny piece of your bench for a minute, do you?”

“Not at all,” Riley said. “You look like you need a break.”

She fanned herself with the hat, though I didn’t think it was that hot outside. Mind you, that could have been because I was eating ice cream at eleven in the morning.

The woman sat up straighter and smoothed the tassels on her jacket. “Did you just come out of there?” She tipped her head toward the museum.

I held up the book clutched in one hand. “It was amazing.”

She nodded, and her tall hair bobbled on her head. “Branson’s got a lot of unbelievable things to offer.”

Riley grinned. “We’re hitting the wax museum next.”

The woman’s painted brows dipped. “I suppose that’s fun. It’s not real, of course. Just a bunch of wax figures. But the tourists like it.”

I shrugged. “What would you suggest?”

Careful
,
Zoey.
Don’t scare her off.

“Well, I do have a good friend who has some gorgeous vacation homes right on the path of...” She stopped and looked around, then gave us each a long, hard look. “You probably wouldn’t be interested.”

Good Lord.
How hard is it to get scammed in this town?
Do I have to come right out and beg for it?

Riley pretended to give a nervous glance at a man walking by, then spoke in a hushed voice. “We might be interested.”

The woman drew closer to us, and from out of nowhere, handed us a business card from between her shiny red talons. “Here. What are your names?”

Riley didn’t hesitate. “Riley and Zoey McGillicutty.” He took the card.

I tried not to give him the side-eye. Riley’s last name was Banks. I had no idea where he got McGillicutty.

“I’m Rosie,” she said, and pulled out her phone. “I’ll just give my friend a call and let him know you’re on your way. Oh, you’re going to love these houses. They’re so pretty. And we need gorgeous, happy couples like you in the neighborhood. You’ll fit right in! But that’s not all. I can’t tell you what the secret surprise is, but since I know you two are such fans of the unusual and different, I know you’re going to love it.”

Chocolate dripped down the side of my cone and over my knuckles. I’d been paying more attention to the show she was giving us than to the melting ice cream in my hand. I was sure her sparkling lipstick had hypnotic qualities. I couldn’t look away. Her lips were identical to Dorothy’s ruby slippers. That much glitter before lunchtime should have been against the law.

Glitter Cowgirl Barbie tapped the display on her phone and put it against her ear. “Hey, sugar. It’s Rosie. I’ve got some new friends who would love to come over and chat with you about the opportunities you have to offer.”

I didn’t recall either of us agreeing to such a thing, but it was what we were there for, so I offered a nervous smile when she grinned at me, and I didn’t object. Riley, having his own trouble with drippy ice cream, took both our cones to a nearby trashcan and dumped them.

When she smiled, Rosie’s teeth were all the whiter for being nestled between ruby lips that flashed in the sunlight. “No, no, I didn’t tell them. I thought you’d want to share the surprise, Brian. Absolutely. All right, hun. I’ll send them right over.”

She ended the call and beamed at us. “He can’t wait to meet you! You’re going to love this. Now, where’s your car parked? I want to make sure I give you good directions. You’ll want to get right out there while he’s got a spot for you between appointments.”

Had we been typical tourists, completely unaware of what was going on, I suspect we still would have landed in the vacation ownership office ten minutes later. She didn’t give us time to think. One minute, we were enjoying our vacation, the next, we were off to see a man about a mysterious something—clueless, disoriented, and feeling foolish.

Except that we weren’t typical tourists. We were playing a part in order to get into the office. We were playing the player. Scamming the scammer. Getting ready to drop the hammer on some asshole exploiting the Hidden. Or humans. That much we didn’t know for sure, yet. I felt like we were Boris and Natasha.

In the car, I got excited by the whole espionage thing. “I wish I had Kam’s cool leather outfit. Can we talk in Russian accents?” I licked the back of my hand to get some of the sticky off of it.

“You need to get out more.” Riley rolled his eyes and looked like he was trying not to laugh. “Is that our turn coming up?”

I checked the notes Rosie had written down. “Yes. On the right.”

We pulled into the parking lot of a large building and walked in through the entrance. The room was tastefully decorated with leather chairs, teak end tables, and a big-screen television hanging on the wall running a loop of commercials for various shows in town. A receptionist greeted us, took our names, and asked us to have a seat.

Fifteen minutes passed. Twenty. People came and went. Every few minutes, the receptionist caught me looking at the clock behind her head and apologized for the wait.

At the thirty-minute mark, Riley stood up. “It’s been a half hour.” He directed his words at me, but in a loud enough voice to catch the receptionist’s attention. “I think we should just go.”

“Oh, wait!” She rose, flapping her arm at us, at the same time pressing the phone to her ear and mumbling into the handset. Thirty seconds later, a door opened, and a short man with red hair and freckles introduced himself with the unlikely name of Boudreaux O’Brian.

Judging by his height of approximately five feet, his red hair, obviously Irish surname and, most of all, the familiar gold shamrock pinned to the lapel of his jacket, I had no doubt whatsoever that we had our scam artist.

“Sonofabitch,” I said under my breath.

Boudreaux O’Brian was a leprechaun.

Chapter Thirteen

I’d dealt with leprechauns before. Nasty little thugs who preyed on people they thought were weak and vulnerable. They’d thought I fell into that category, and I made them sorry. I also took all their magical gold shamrocks and kicked their greedy asses out of my town.