Up To No Good: Book 4 Georgie B. Goode Gypsy Caravan Cozy Mystery (10 page)

Layla eyed his khaki pants and button-down plaid shirt. “You can’t count that.”

“Can too,” he returned. “I Googled it. Richie Cunningham to a T.” He pointed at his neat hair. “Even to the good-boy hair.”

Georgie heaved a sigh. “Don’t you know that every girl dreams of running away with the
bad
boy?”

“What, like Jerry?”

“Ouch,” she said. “All right, I take it back. But one day I’m going to meet your brother, and he’s going to tell me all your secrets. There’s
got
to be some misbehavior in your background somewhere.”

“Speaking of bad boys,” he said, nodding at the stage.

The MC was walking onstage, with all the finalists behind him. The Joanies, the Fonzies, the Richies, Mr. Cunningham, Mrs. Cunningham, and a couple of Pinky Tuscadero lookalikes.

Jerry made just as good a Fonzie as he did a Danny Zuko. His appearance was greeted by a storm of clapping, which was as much to do as his hero status for surviving a prepper abduction as it was for being a retro icon.

Jerry grinned, smoothed his free hand over his pompadour hairstyle, and raised the arm in a cast to the crowd. More clapping.

“Oh man,” Georgie said. “The size of his ego just increased even more.”

Every contestant was given the chance to ham it up for the audience, until finally the best two in each category were lined up across the stage.

“And now,” the MC said, “for the winners! Step forward when I call your name, and collect your prize!

Nobody was surprised when Tammy, skipping forward as a wide-eyed innocent Joanie, collected one of the prizes. It was even less of a surprise when Jerry won the Fonzie competition—and when the two of them stepped forward to have photo taken together, the place erupted. Tammy Dyson, one of their favorite contestants, and Jerry B. Goode, the heir apparent of the most popular manufacturer of vintage-look trailers.

He looked much better as Fonzie, Georgie decided, than as a prepper carrying a rifle and defending himself against a couple of crazies.

The band struck up the “Happy Days” theme while willing hands folded chairs and stacked them out of the way, ready for a night of fun on the dance floor.

“It’ll take them hours to be free of this bunch,” Scott observed. “Guess all we can do is join in and enjoy the party.” He patted Georgie on the arm. “You haven’t seen me dance. There’s a treat in store.”

Somehow, judging by the devilish glint in his eyes, she doubted it.

~~~

Much later that night, they all met up in Jerry’s RV. It mightn’t be to their taste as much as retro trailers, but there was no doubt that it offered more space for social get-togethers.

Georgie walked in, and then stopped and looked around. The RV still had its elements of black and gold, but it was…different. There were some extra cushions in shades of taupe and latte tossed on to the charcoal leather seats, and some tasteful artwork on the wall. The overall effect softened the original black and gold and made it look much homier.

She nodded approvingly. “I see Tammy’s had a hand in this.”

“Got it in one,” agreed Tammy. “He had it looking like a mix between a hotel lobby and a Hugh Hefner bunny trap.”

“How did you do it?” Georgie accepted a glass of bubbly from Jerry. “The number of times I tried to convince him that all that glitz didn’t work—but would he listen to his sister?”

Jerry patted her on the head. “Never have in the past, why would I start now?”

She swiped at him half-heartedly. He still annoyed her more often than not, but it was only when she had faced the possibility of losing him that she had to admit that he had captured some tiny corner of her heart. OK, it might be a teeny tiny corner, and covered in dust and cobwebs, but it was Jerry’s corner.

And he
had
improved since Tammy had come into his life. Who knew what the future might hold?

“What?” Jerry said, casting her a suspicious look. “You’re doing that weird grin again. I don’t trust you when you look like that.”

“No reason,” Georgie said. “Daydreaming. I was a million miles away.”

Jerry cocked his head and looked at her, waiting, but she just smiled some more. Give Jerry and inch and he’d take a mile. Tell him that he was improving? Not any time soon.

“Once upon a time,” he said, giving up and handing out more glasses of champagne, “you used to be a lot easier to handle. Ever since you ran away to join the gypsies there’s no knowing what you’ll do next.” He gave the last glass to Tammy and bent over to plant a swift kiss on her lips before turning to address them all, remaining on his feet. “Anyway…” he cleared his throat. “I just thought I’d take the occasion to say thank you all for coming to rescue me. I know what I owe you. I want to propose a toast to the Crystal Ball Team.” He held up his glass and waited.

“Crystal Ball
Investigation
Team,” Tammy corrected him. “CBI. Slick operation like ours, it’s important to get the name right.” She raised her glass.

It was Georgie’s turn. “And to Scott’s mother, for pointing us in the right direction. An honorary member of the team. To Tammy, who can handle a rifle as well as any prepper. And Layla, a demon with the stun gun.” She pretended disappointment. “I
would
have taken somebody out with the pepper spray, but you guys didn’t leave me any work to do.”

“All I got to do was tackle Vincent, but that was satisfying,” Scott observed with a grin. “Anyway, here’s to all of us—and Jerry, for keeping his cool.”

They all raised their glasses and drank, but there was a hint of reserve in the air. Nobody had enjoyed coming so close to real danger.

Jerry sat down next to Tammy. “There’s a bit more news. Two bits, actually.” He looked around, stretching out the moment, enjoying the air of expectancy. “First: Danny Howell has been arrested.”

“
Danny
?” Georgie was stunned. “Danny from the Bugout Base? Danny who did the search for us on the computer?”

“The very one.” Jerry’s face, as usual, held no clue to his feelings; that was why he was such an excellent poker player. He could act any part or show nothing. “I started thinking: how come the satellite tracker stopped working? We camouflage them in a different place in each vehicle; sometimes we have two in case one is removed. Vincent knew where it was, but I didn’t see him disable it. He didn’t remove it either—I know, because I was in the back of it for hours before we got to Marion. So that means that either they disabled the software, or someone was helping them from our end.”

“And Danny was the one monitoring the satellite tracker,” Scott said. “He was the one feeding us information from back at the base.”

Georgie thought of the useless lists that Danny had given them. “He didn’t give us anyone that might help—nobody that wasn’t already easy to find online.”

“If you remember,” Tammy said, “he sent us Jack’s name as one of the final three—but only when he knew we were heading to Marion. Looking as though he was being helpful.”

“So Danny was keeping Vincent informed all along.” Georgie felt a heavy sense of betrayal that someone in the Johnny B. Goode RV Empire would sell them out like that.

“He knew exactly who was coming after me, the whole time,” Jerry agreed. “So when Jack turned up at his house with just two of you, he knew the others were out there somewhere.”

Scott snapped his fingers. “So that’s how Vincent’s favorite gorilla found us out there. It didn’t matter how careful we were being.”

“Pity I didn’t get to shoot him as well,” Tammy said, her blue eyes suddenly stormy. “I’m glad you stunned him twice, Layla.”

“Three times, actually.” Layla pretended nonchalance while she studied her fingernails. “He was a big boy. I wanted to make sure I got it right.”

“Well, they’re all in prison now.” Jerry cleared his throat. “Which brings me to the second bit of news. Since this has highlighted major security problems with our database for bug out vehicles and details of shelters for preppers, we have a huge new business opportunity: we’re going to specialize in secure systems and emergency communications. Just something more we can offer to our clients. Which will mean even greater expansion.” He shook a playful finger at Georgie and then rested his hand on Tammy’s knee. “But don’t worry, girls, your vintage division won’t suffer.”

Tammy put down her glass. She exchanged a glance with Georgie, and then picked up Jerry’s hand as though it were a dead fish and deposited it back on his own knee. Then she sat back, folded her arms and just looked at him.

Jerry looked from her to his sister. “What? I’m not doing this at the expense of your division, I just told you. Vintage is quite safe.”

“Vintage might be safe,” Tammy said. “But are
we
? You said you were going to step
back
from the prepper extremists.”

“Well, I am. No more going out alone to meet them. No more demos at remote locations. I told you that.”

“And now,” Georgie said, “you are going to specialize in security. And communications. Secret squirrel stuff. Right?”

“There’s an opening. We can’t
not
take it.” Jerry gave her his best I-can’t-believe-you-can’t-see-this face, followed by his most engaging smile. “If we don’t step in—and make the most of the publicity we’ve got—then someone else will.”

“Fine.” Georgie set down her own glass with a
thunk
that set the crystal ringing. “Let someone else do it. You can make enough money from everything else we do.”

“I
can’t
. I’ve already set thing in motion. I’ve made promises.” He gave up on Georgie and focused on Tammy. “I’ll be careful. I don’t want to get shot again.”

“If you go ahead with this, it won’t be the preppers you have to worry about,” Tammy said pointedly. “You’ve ‘made some promises’? You made promises to us too. Did you forget?”

“Tams.” He looked hunted. If Georgie hadn’t been so annoyed with him, she would have enjoyed his discomfiture.

“Rosa was right,” Tammy said. “She said as a boy you were always up to no good. Always plotting, always planning the next scheme. She says there’s hope for you, but sometimes I wonder.” She tapped the cast on his arm. “You got out of it lightly this time. Forget this idea, Jerry, or I’m out.”

He stared at her.

Everybody else found something interesting to hold their attention while they waited.

After a moment, Jerry said, “What kind of out?”

“Out of your life, Jerry.” Tammy held his eye firmly. “I
shot
people for you. I swore I’d never shoot a living creature again, but I did it for you. I’ll never do it again.”

Jerry drew in a deep breath.

He stood up, and walked across to stare out of the door of the RV at the lights from trailers and at the late-night groups strumming guitars or laughing over stories.

Their scene, thought Georgie, watching him. Their wonderful, safe, happy retro scene. The life she and Tammy and Layla loved.

Jerry tapped his fingers on the doorframe. Then he turned, shrugged, and opened his hands outward, the cast on his arm making the gesture awkward. “OK. I’ll outsource it. Just as we do now.”

Tammy raised an eyebrow.

He said stiffly, “I’m sorry. I really am sorry, Tams.” He held her gaze, and they could all see the tic in his jaw while he waited.

Wow
, thought Georgie.
I think he is.

Tammy made him suffer for another few seconds, and then relented. “OK.”

“Tams?” He held out his arms, and she bounced up and walked into a hug.

Georgie let out a pent-up breath. Her poker-faced brother hadn’t been able to hide his true emotions when it really counted. He wasn’t stupid enough to let Tammy go.

Maybe he wasn’t
always
up to no good.

** Don’t forget…I have a FREE book for you! **

Read more about Great Grandma Rosa…

Whether she wanted to believe it or not, from birth Georgie was destined to follow in Great-Grandma Rosa’s footsteps—as well as inherit her crystal ball!

Here’s your chance to find out more about the crabby old lady that Georgie sees as a kind of taciturn genie. Visit my website below and get your complimentary copy of Rosa’s story in “Fortune’s Wheel”! (And there will be more bonus books to follow!)

http://georgiebgoode.com

~~~

Georgie on Facebook

Georgie’s Blog