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Under the dim glow of the garage light, Beau shook the spare key set until Clementine Jane’s car key flashed.  Grabbing it, he stuck it in the ignition.

Suddenly, a figure came toward him, waving his arms and shouting.  “Don’t!  Don’t!  Get out of the car!  Get out of the car!”

Shrinking back, Beau slammed his fist on the doorway to lock the car.  Peering through the windshield, he stared at the bald man jumping up and down in front of the car, his arms fluttering frantically around his jiggling paunch.  “Hey, I know you.  You’re that guy from Evers Road Petting Zoo.”

“Billy,” the man panted, sweat running down his bald head in fat droplets.  “Kid, get out of the car!  Get out!  It’s not safe!”

Beau frowned.  “Look, sir, I know my sister’s car is old–it’s my mom’s hand-me-down, but it’s not that bad.”

Billy shook his head wildly.  “You don’t understand.”  Clamping his head between his hands, he moaned.  “Oh, why did I listen to him?  Why?  I should have done what I wanted…I should have just kidnapped those three stupid dauschands.”

“Larry, Curly and Mo?” Beau gaped.  “You would kidnapp Larry, Curly and Mo?  Those are my mom’s best friends!  She loves those dogs!”

“She hasn’t been paying any attention to them since she started this race, has she?” Billy snarled.  “And what has she done with the petting zoo she stole from me?  Or that puppy and pie plan she was babbling about to the press the other day?” Beau opened his mouth to defend his mother, but Billy pressed on.  “Nothing!  She’s done nothing!  Because she doesn’t care!  She just ruins people’s lives and rolls on, ready to destroy more!”  He slammed his hands on the hood, dropping to his knees and pressing his cheek to the cold metal.  “Nothing,” he echoed fourlornly.  “She left me with nothing.”

Beau knew it would be fruitless to argue with the clearly insane man.  “Who did you listen to?”

“Huh?”  Billy blinked at him, his red eyes blinking with unshed tears.

“You said you wanted to kidnap Mom’s dogs, but you listened to someone else.  Who?”

Billy shifted, his eyes locked on the hood’s surface.  “I didn’t say that.”

“Yes, you did.”  Beau reached into his pocket and waved his cell phone.  “In five seconds, I’ll have the sheriff here.  Unless you tell me the truth, you’re going to jail tonight.”

Billy’s eyes popped open. “You wouldn’t!”

“You tried to blow up my sister’s car!” Beau snorted.  “Of course I’d call.”

“I didn’t know it was your sister’s car,” Billy sulked.  “I thought it was your mom’s.  Only your mom would drive a pink Mustang.  And I didn’t put a bomb in it.  I just put sugar in the gas tank.”  He squirmed under Beau’s stare. “Ok, fine.  And I slashed the tires.”  Beau’s gaze never wavered.  “And maybe I tinkered under the hood a bit.”

“And why did you do all this?” Beau prompted.

“He told me to,” Billy grumbled, smacking his head into the hood.  He looked up, his eyes wide and hopeful.  “Hey, think the sherriff will arrest him instead of me?”

“That depends,” Beau replied, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.  His stomach grumbled, reminding him it’d be a long time until he’d eat again.  “Who was it?”

Billy twisted around, his face curled in a grimace.  “The mayor,” he mumbled.  “After I got out of jail, the mayor came to see me.  He’d seen me on the news, knew how mad I was.  He said he had a plan for Dallas Jean, an old favor to pay back.  And he said if I did what he said, he’d get my zoo back.”  He scowled.  “But he wouldn’t let me touch those dang dachshunds.”

“The mayor?”  Beau gasped.  His mind reeling, he sank back into the driver’s seat.  “The mayor told you all that?”

Billy was glaring at the house now.  “I can see them laughing at me,” he muttered, his eyes narrowed.  “Those dogs…they laughed at me.  And where are my llamas?  I heard my llamas lived here now.”

Unlocking the door, Beau leaped out of the car.  Billy scurried back, his eyes wide.  “What are you doing?  You said you wouldn’t call the sheriff.”

“I’m not.  Not yet,” Beau added.  Shaking the keys, he selected a thick black key and slammed his fist into the garage door opener.  It rose slowly, revealing a sleek black SUV that belonged to his father.  Beau pointed at the car.  “Get it?”

“Why?” Billy whined.  “I’ve told you everything.  I even saved you, remember?”

“Unless you want to go to jail for breaking and entering, trespassing, attempted murder and attempted dog-kidnapping, get in the car,” Beau snapped.  He unflipped his cell phone.  “Or would you prefer the sheriff drive you?”

Sniffling and whimpering, Billy climbed into the passenger seat.  Crumpling his large girth into the seat, he sulked.  “Where are we going?”

Beau hopped into the driver’s seat and fired up the engine.  “To set things right.”  Punching a button on his cell phone, he held the phone up to his ear.

———————————————————————-

Clementine’s Jane phone buzzed in her back pocket, but she ignored it.  Probably her parents calling to check on her.  Standing up, she stared at the manila folder the mayor had thrown on his desk.  “What is all this?”

“I told you, it’s proof,” the mayor snapped.  “Look–documentation on illegal gambling and transporting illegal aliens from Mexico, prostitution charges, drugs, money laundering…photos of your mother running the games, doing handoffs with well known leaders of Mexican gangs…what more do you want?”

Clementine Jane frowned at the folder, not daring to touch it.  “Because none of it makes sense.  Where did it come from?  What are your sources?”  She peered at one photo peeking out of the folder, showing a young Dallas Jean Lee shaking hands with a Mexican drug dealer.  “In fact, I know this picture.  But the real one shows my mom shaking President Bill Clinton’s hand back when he was first starting in politics….not this guy.  In fact”– She pulled out the photo and held it up to the light.  “This is Photoshopped.  A poor Photoshop job too.”   She shook her head.  “What’s going on here?  Where did you get this information?”

The Mayor grimaced.  His reptilian eyes narrowed in the dim light.  “Just like your mother.  She could never do anything easily either.”  Lifting up the phone, he punched a few buttons.  “We’re going to Plan B,” he said.

“Plan B?”  Clementine Jane dropped the photo.  Something in the mayor’s eyes, his tone, wasn’t right.  Her hand flew back to her back pocket, feeling her grandfather’s journal.  The heavy book was her only comfort right now.

“Listen, I’ve got to go.  Thanks, Mayor, for the interview.  I’ll talk to my editor.”

Letting out a short laugh, the mayor reached into his dresser drawer.  “I’m sorry, Clementine Jane.  I can’t let you do that.”

Her eyes wide, Clementine Jane turned to run.  Just before she could reach the door, it flew open.

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends!  Tomorrow we have some fun whimsy and a week full of delightful adventures!

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