Christopher Moore - The Lust Lizard of Melancholy Cove

“I’m not a cop anymore either. And what if we track this thing and you’re wrong, Gabe? Do you want to meet up with whatever did that to my car? Those cows?”

“Well, yes, I do.”

“We can do that later. It shouldn’t be too hard. Whatever it is, it’s pulling a house trailer.”

“What?”

“There was a trailer here when Leander took me into the shed. When I came out, it was gone.”

Gabe checked his watch. “Have you eaten today? I’m not questioning you, but maybe you’re having a hypoglycemic reaction or something. Let’s go get some dinner and when your head clears, we can go by Molly Michon’s.”

“Right, I’m hallucinating from a bad case of the munchies.”

Gabe grabbed his shoulder. “Theo, please. I have a date.”

Theo nodded. “Molly’s first. Then I’ll go to dinner.”

“Deal,” Gabe said, still staring at the tracks. “I want to come back here with some casting materials. Even if this is a hoax, I want a record of it.”

Theo started for the truck and pulled up when he heard the sound of a cell phone ringing inside the shed. He walked into the shed, located the cell phone, and looked at the display for the number that was ringing in. It was Burton’s private number. He drew his .357 Magnum and blew the phone into a thousand pieces. He walked out of the shed to find Gabe hiding behind the fender of the red truck and Skinner cowering in the bed.

“What in the hell do you mean, you have a date?”

“This is where I found the aberrant rats,” Gabe said as they pulled into the

Fly Rod Trailer Court.

“That’s nice,” Theo said, not really paying attention.

“Did I tell you I got the brain chemistry back from Stanford? It’s interesting, but I’m not sure that it explains the behavior.”

“Not now, Gabe, please.” Theo slammed on the brakes and the truck rocked to a stop. “What the hell?” There were no lights on in Molly Michon’s trailer. In the empty lot next door, a dozen well-dressed adults stood in a circle, holding candles.

“Prayer meeting?” Gabe ventured. “It’s Sunday night.”

“There was a trailer there last time I was here,” Theo said. “Just like the one on the ranch.”

“I know. This is the lot where I found the rats with the low serotonin levels.”

Theo shut off the truck, set the parking brake, and climbed out. Then he looked back at Gabe. “You found your rats right here?”

“The six that I could find. But this is where the other ones that were last tracked disappeared as well. I can show you the graphic later.”

“That would be good.”

Theo pulled his flannel shirt over the guns in his waistband and approached the circle. Skinner jumped out of the truck and ran ahead. Gabe reluctantly followed. They did, indeed, seem to be praying. Their heads were bowed and a woman in a powder-blue dress and pillbox hat was leading the group. “Bless us, Lord, for we have felt the stirrings of your power within us and heeded your call to come to this holy place on the eve of…”

Skinner drove his nose into the woman’s crotch, and she yipped like a bee-stung poodle. Everyone in the group looked up.

“Excuse me,” Theo said. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but what are you all doing here?” Several of the men looked irritated and stepped up behind the powder-blue woman to give support.

The woman held Skinner’s nose away from her dress while trying to keep the candle flame away from her hair spray. “Constable Crowe? Is that right?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Theo said. The woman was younger than he was by at least five years and pretty in a Texas Big Hair sort of way, but her dress and manner of speaking made him feel as if he’d just been busted by his first-grade teacher for eating paste.

“We’ve been called here, Constable,” the woman explained. She reached behind her, grabbed the shoulder of a woman who looked like her clone in pink, and pulled her forward. Skinner stamped the pink woman’s dress with the Wet-Nose Inspection Seal. “Margie and I felt it first, but when we started talking about it after services this afternoon, all these other people said that they had felt drawn to this place as well. The Holy Spirit has moved us here.”

“Ask them if they’ve seen any rats.” Gabe said.

“Call your dog,” Theo tossed over his shoulder.

Gabe called Skinner and the Labrador looked around.

They smell fine to me, Food Guy. I say fuck ‘em, Skinner thought. But he got no response except a minor scolding.

“The Holy Spirit called you here?” Theo said.

Everyone in the group nodded earnestly.

“Did any of you happen to see the woman who lives in that trailer next door?”

The pink lady chimed in, “Oh yes, she was the one to call our attention to this place two nights ago. We wondered about that at first, being as how she is and all, but then Katie pointed out”—she gestured to her friend—“that our Lord Jesus spent time with Mary Magdalene, and she, as I’m sure you know, was—well—she was…”

“A whore,” Theo offered.

“Well. Yes. And so we thought, who are we to judge?”

“Very charitable of you,” Theo said. “But have you seen Molly Michon tonight?”

“No, not tonight.”

Theo felt his energy reserves drain even more. “Look, folks, you shouldn’t be here. I’m not sure it’s safe. Some people have gone missing…”

“Oh, that poor boy,” Margie said.

“Yes and maybe some others. I have to ask you all to take your meeting somewhere else, please.”

The group looked disappointed. One of the men, a portly bald fellow in his fifties, puffed himself up and stepped forward. “Constable, we have the right to worship when and where we please.”

“I’m just thinking of your safety,” Theo said.

“This country was founded on the basis of religious freedom, and…”

Theo stepped up to the man and loomed over him with all of his six-foot-six frame, “Then start praying that I don’t throw you in jail with the biggest, horniest sodomite the country jail has to offer, which is what I’m going to do if you all don’t go home right now.”

“Smooth,” Gabe said.

Make him roll over and pee on himself, Skinner thought.

The bald man made a harumph sound and turned to the group. “Let’s meet at the church to discuss the removal of our local law enforcement official.”

“Yeah, get in line,” Theo said. He watched as the group dispersed to their cars and drove away.

When the last one pulled out, Gabe said, “Theories?”

Theo shook his head. “Everyone in this town is nuts. I’m going to check Molly’s trailer, but I doubt she’s there. Do you want me to take you home to shower and change clothes before your date?”

Gabe looked down at his stained work pants and safari shirt. “Do you think I should?”

“Gabe, you’re the only guy I know that makes me look suave.”

“You’re coming along, right?”

“Casanova,” Theo said. “Compared to you, I feel like Casanova.”

“What?” Gabe said. “It’s fried chicken night at H.P.‘s.”

Steve lay under a stand of cypress trees, his new lover snuggled up to his right foreleg, snoring softly. He let his tongue slide out and the tip just brushed her bare back. She moaned and nuzzled closer to his leg. She tasted pretty good. But he had eaten all those other warmbloods and he wasn’t really hungry.

When he had been a female, some fifty years ago, and going back another five thousand, he had become accustomed to eating his lovers after mating. That’s just how it was done. But as a male, he wasn’t sure. He hadn’t mated with his own species since he’d become male, and so the instinct to become passive after mating was new to him. He just didn’t feel like eating the warmblood. She had made him feel better, and for some reason, he could see the pictures of her thoughts instead of just sending his own signals. He sensed no fear in her, and no need to send the signal to draw her to him. Strange for a warmblood.