Heartache Motel by Austin Terri L. & Larissa Reinhart & LynDee Walker

Author:Austin, Terri L. & Larissa Reinhart & LynDee Walker
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: amateur sleuth, british mysteries, cozy mystery, humorous mystery, humor, short story collections, elvis, graceland, women sleuths, murder mystery, mystery books, mystery novels, mystery series
Publisher: Henery Press
Published: 2014-06-19T00:00:00+00:00

EIGHT

The Idiot End

Twenty minutes on the road and I was convinced Priscilla’s female whole was not made from the sum of her parts, which were mostly rigid muscle. I feared her crunked angles would permanently injure her long frame. I also feared her knees would permanently dent my backside.

Her hands were also placed on my body in places for which I normally charged an admission of sorts.

“Let’s not get too friendly back here, Priscilla,” I hissed under the syncopated beat of Burning Love.

“I’m just trying to take my mind off the extreme pain,” said Priscilla, “and my real name is Eddie.”

“I would shake your hand, but it seems to be occupied with my boob, Eddie.”

“Don’t get so excited, Kate Jackson. There’s not a lot of boob to occupy.”

The van had slowed from its former interstate cruising speed, but now the engine downshifted into a crawl. I could also hear the steady dinking of the turn signal.

“He’s getting ready to pull in somewhere,” I said. “Get prepared.”

“Prepared for what?” Priscilla-Eddie quickly whispered into my ear.

“To get out, obviously.”

I risked a quick pop up looksie through the back window and fell back on top of Priscilla. “I think we’re back in Memphis. Little Jimmy’s taking a lunch break. He’s pulling into some hamburger place. Dixie Queen.”

“Oh, I love me some Dixie Queen,” said Priscilla. “Haven’t been there since I was a child. They have the best burgers and fries. And their freezes, Lord almighty. Not too icy, not too liquidy. Dixie Queen makes them just right. I would love an orange freeze right now.”

My stomach sputtered into high alert.

Beneath me, Priscilla cringed. “What’s wrong with this van? I think the engine’s going to blow.”

“Hush, he’s pulling into the drive-thru. When he stops, we’re getting out.”

Little Jimmy turned down the music and braked in the drive-thru lane. I grasped the release handle and pulled. The back door flew open and Priscilla and I spilled out onto the asphalt. I scrambled behind the nearby holly bushes, dragging Priscilla behind me. Inside the truck, Little Jimmy had turned around in his seat and stared openmouthed at his rear door.

“Poor Little Jimmy, let’s hope that didn’t give him a heart attack,” said Priscilla. “He’s gonna think the van has turned into Christine.”

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