The Conch Shell of Doom (14 page)

“Evan Hightower out of Philadelphia. You’re on the wrong side of the Mason-Dixon, my friend.”

Franklin pursed his lips. He wanted to mouth off, but anything he said would be recorded and used against him in a court of law. These days, it took a little more than setting fire to pieces of paper to destroy a record. Damn Internet.

The cops led Franklin out of the museum and shoved him into the back of a cruiser. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The whole business with the police interfering with his plans needed to stop. In theory, Franklin and the cops should be on the same side. Sadly, the way things usually worked out, he ended up looking like the bad guy.

Johnson got in the passenger seat next to his partner, Portman.

A balding man with a thick neck, Portman started the cruiser. “Hey, Johnson? What’s worth stealing in that museum?”
 

“Nothing,” Johnson said. “Pirate sword, maybe?”

“I really hate tourists.”

Franklin leaned his head back, hoping these two weren’t going to do yap the entire way to the station. He tried to think of a way out of the mess without leaving any more record of ever being here. Good thing they didn’t notice the ID was fake. Otherwise, these two might decide to do their job and dig into his past. At that point, Franklin could still disappear once he prevented the Awakening. He closed his eyes. There were too many things to take care of, and time was running out. Whomever ratted him out to the cops was going to die slowly over the course of a week, bit by bit.

The Mooresville police booked him, took his fingerprints and an unflattering mug shot and then threw him in a holding cell with a group of four men, each with varying degrees of body odor. Three of them were in their early twenties and unremarkable looking, the kind who came to a place like Mooresville looking to party and never wanted to leave. The fourth, however, had an awful lot of heft to him and easily clocked in at three bills. His massive ZZ Top beard probably added another ten pounds. The other three sat as far from the big guy as possible.

ZZ Top Beard scowled as Franklin sat down. “Don’t you think it’s a little hot to wear such a fine coat?”

“I run cold.” Which was true. His temperature normally stayed around 94.6 degrees. He figured it helped his body last longer and stay fresher. Just one of those things that came with being immortal.

“What? You some kind of vampire? Running around, trying to bite people?”

Franklin looked back at the man and shrugged.
 

“Give it to me.”

Franklin leaned forward, hands on his knees, and didn’t say a word. As much fun as it’d be to beat the pulp out of the guy, getting into a prison fight was a dumb idea. Franklin had enough on his plate.

ZZ Top Beard stood up, clearly agitated. His old, faded shirt, complete with holes, stretched as his stomach jutted out. “I’m talking to you.”

Franklin remained silent. He just wanted to be left alone. Though, the idea of beating the snot out of the guy did have a certain appeal.

ZZ Top Beard picked Franklin up by the jacket. “Take it off, or I’ll take it off for you.”

And just like that, ZZ Top Beard made the call a no-brainer. Franklin kneed him in the crotch. The other three prisoners whooped and hollered. ZZ Top Beard went to the floor like a crumbling Jenga tower. He rolled around, crying and clutching his privates.

Franklin sat back down, feeling much better. He’d hoped the prisoner would’ve put up more of a fight, but you win some, you lose some. His thoughts returned to figuring out how to get released before Mr. Lovell could pay a visit. The law allowed for one phone call, except Franklin didn’t know anyone in town. The closest person he knew that could bail him out lived in the next time zone. Although there was one person in Mooresville who hadn’t tried to injure, kill, or arrest him. Sure, she’d threatened him a little, but one could almost consider that light flirting.
 

Franklin didn’t get a chance to make a phone call for well over an hour. When he had access to a phone, he couldn’t remember the bartender’s name, just that she worked at the Thirsty Alligator and looked sexy while holding a shotgun. His one phone call would go right down the drain if she wasn’t there. There was also the chance she might hang up on him. For the first time in decades, Franklin felt desperate. He leaned against the cinderblock wall, cradling the phone in his hands, listening to ring after ring.

“Come on,” he said.

“Thirsty Alligator. This is Julie.” She shouted over the noise in the background.

Yes!
That was her name. Julie.

“Don’t hang up, unless you don’t want to make a thousand bucks tonight.”

Julie remained silent for a few moments. “I don’t do that kind of thing, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Franklin smiled reflexively. Whenever he’d made that sort of offer for whatever reason, prostitution was always the first assumption. “No. I need you to come down to the police station and bail me out. I’ll pay you back whatever they make you fork over plus a thousand. This isn’t a joke.”

“Who is this?”

“Name’s Franklin. I had a little scuffle in your bar last night? You stuck a shotgun in my face, and I gave you a few hundred for the trouble?”

Portman sauntered down the hall toward him. “Hey, buddy. Wrap it up.”

Franklin held up a finger. He didn’t think there was a time limit on his phone call.

“Rings a bell,” Julie said. “Why are you calling me?”

“I don’t know anybody else in town.”

“What did you do? Kill somebody?”

“No! Nothing like that, I give you my word. I’m not a violent man.” Franklin liked to think he wasn’t violent. Unless he had to be. The natural and supernatural beings who’d died by his hand might not agree, but he thought so.

“I wouldn’t have guessed that, especially after what I saw last night.”

Franklin sucked in his lips. “I’m not a violent man by nature. I genuinely need your help, and for a little inconvenience, you get to be a thousand bucks richer. How about that?”

“Quit talking about your latest crush and get off the phone.” Portman was only ten feet away. Franklin turned his back to him.

Julie sighed. “So a thousand? In cash?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“I get off work at two. I’ll be there sometime after that. I’ll have Shotgun Betty with me, so you act like anything besides a perfect gentleman and she’ll do more than show you her grin this time.”

Portman pushed down on the receiver before Franklin could thank her. He held the phone away from his ear, mouth open in mid-sentence. He couldn’t believe the gall of the guy.

“You wreck my night; I wreck yours.” Portman grinned, showing off coffee-stained teeth. “Only fair.”

Franklin slammed the phone down on the receiver, with Portman’s fingers still in it. The cop cried out. He clutched his hand, jumping up and down in pain.

“Only fair.” Franklin walked back to his cell.

“You asshole!”

Franklin scowled at Portman, getting entirely too much satisfaction out of seeing the man suffer. Personally, Franklin thought the cop got off light.

Bailey beamed with pride as he watched the police car drive away.

“Citizen’s arrest for the win.” He high-fived Alexis.
 

“I feel like putting on a mask and becoming a crime fighter,” Alexis said. “I’ll be known as Miss Wizard, casting a spell on evil everywhere.” Her gaze fell on Bailey, who broke eye contact.

“And all this because the dude wanted a conch shell?” Marshall asked.

Despite believing Bailey’s story, Marshall and Tim struggled to wrap their heads around the fact that Percy wanted to steal a shell. They thought the idea was beyond stupid. Bailey and Alexis didn’t argue the point with them.

“Now what?” Tim asked.

“I guess we go home.” Bailey was caught off guard by the question. “Call it a night.”

“That’s a terrible idea.” Marshall climbed onto the boardwalk.

Bailey and Tim also went up and over. Bailey and Tim extended a hand to help Alexis, but she only took her brother’s, which was a little disappointing to Bailey.

“What do you suggest?” Bailey enjoyed being out of the sand.

Marshall grinned. “A celebration.”

“Tim and I are interested,” Alexis said. “Just have to let my parents know I’ll be out late.”

Marshall eyeballed Bailey. “And you?”

If they weren’t going home, finding Mr. Lovell would be a better option, but Bailey decided to let it slide. He doubted they could do anything else tonight, especially when it was almost ten o’clock.

His face broke out into a wide grin. “Let’s do this.”

“Stop scratching,” Mr. Lovell said.

“Please,” Percy said. “My eye is killing me.”

“We both know pain killers could set you back on the road to addiction,” Mr. Lovell said, a satchel full of money in his lap.

Never mind that his car smells suspiciously like marijuana.

Percy drove the two of them in the
A-Team
van to the Mooresville city limits to pick up Trenton’s remaining body parts from Reggie.
Ah, Reggie. The one person on this planet that makes me thankful for Percy.

Reggie came under Mr. Lovell’s employ through Percy. The two met in rehab. Percy did his best to stay clean. Reggie was forced into the clinic to avoid jail time. Once he was out, the crazed Rastafarian only wanted cash to fuel his addiction. Mr. Lovell paid him under the table, an arrangement that worked out for both of them.
 

Mr. Lovell wanted to travel the world getting Trenton’s body parts himself, but it went faster with Percy in one hemisphere and Reggie in the other. In light of what happened at the Thirsty Alligator, keeping the parts separated was serendipitous.

To say the least.

“Is this arm and leg even going to be useful without the other stuff?” Percy asked.

Of course they are! Moron! When I was human, we’d throw someone like him in a Leper colony on principle. After the Awakening, any humans working with us will be
competent.
 

Mr. Lovell coughed. “We’ll have to use a sacrifice, but Trenton may want to use what original parts he has left. A portion of Trenton is still more powerful than none at all.”

Percy’s lucky he doesn’t qualify as a potential sacrifice.

They arrived at Mooresville’s city limits in a matter of minutes. The van’s headlights illuminated a beat-up old Cadillac parked on the side of the road. Mr. Lovell motioned for Percy to pull up next to it.

Reggie, a thin African-American with dreadlocks, emerged from the Caddy. Mr. Lovell tried not to laugh at the man’s Bob Marley shirt and Jamaican hat. Trenton didn’t have to worry about being rude. His laughter tickled the inside of Mr. Lovell’s stomach.

“There he is.” Reggie ran up and gave Percy a bear hug so tight it knocked his hat off. “Good to see you, brother.”

“You too.” Percy picked up his hat. “You find the place all right?”

“As easy as it is to find a place in the middle of nowhere. Couldn’t have found somewhere more remote?”

“You know this is how we roll,” Percy said. “Don’t sweat it.”

Such a sweet reunion. Too sweet. End it.

“Reggie, do you have the package?”

Reggie’s demeanor shifted into business mode. “You got the paper?”

Mr. Lovell held up the satchel.
 

“My man.” Reggie walked around to the trunk and popped it open. Mr. Lovell and Percy took a look inside. There were two black garbage bags. One had an outline of an arm in it, the other a leg. “Two nasty, mostly decomposed body parts.”

Reggie put my body in trash bags. If that stoner had God’s body parts, would he be so disrespectful?

“Percy, would you be so kind as to collect the limbs?” Mr. Lovell handed the satchel to Reggie.

Percy took the bags and carried them to his van, laying them in the back. Reggie tossed the satchel in the now empty trunk.

It’s time.

“Come with me.” Mr. Lovell motioned for Reggie to follow him into the woods. “I have something else for you that I don’t want Percy to see.”

“You got some weed for me?”

Perfect. Reggie was smart not to think Mr. Lovell would want Percy to see drugs, for fear of falling off the wagon.
 

“You’ll have to find out.”

Reggie hummed a Bob Marley song to himself behind Mr. Lovell. The two reached a small opening in the woods.

Reggie rubbed his hands together. “Let me get some of that stank!”

“Boss?” Percy called out.

“Over here.”

Reggie’s dreadlocks swung back and forth. “I thought you didn’t want Percy to see.”

Mr. Lovell took off his hat. Reggie groaned.

“Put your hat back on. You know I don’t like seeing that stuff.”

Shame. Really.

Mr. Lovell spun in place, disappearing with a
crack
and then immediately landed on Reggie, knocking him to the ground.
 

“Oh hell no,” Reggie said, reaching for his gun.

Mr. Lovell took hold of Reggie’s hand and squeezed. Bones cracked one by one, until he dropped the gun.
 

“Damn.” Percy stepped over a small ditch to see what happened. “He make a move or something?”

Mr. Lovell held the gun by the barrel toward Percy, who took it by the handle.

“You said you had some weed for me,” Reggie shouted. “Luring a brother in with the promise of weed? Asshole!”

Reggie isn’t wrong. It’s a dirty trick. Not that I mind.

“That true?” Percy asked. “You have some weed?”

“Of course not.” Mr. Lovell didn’t look back at Percy. “Reggie’s a loose end, and we have too many of those as it is. It’s time we started tying some of them up, don’t you?”

“I guess, but Reggie?” Percy looked down at the gun, and put two and two together. “Oh! No, man. Come on. It’s Reggie. How is he a loose end?”

The same way you are, jackass.

“The time has come to prove your worth,” Mr. Lovell said.
 

“I haven’t done that already?”