The Mystery of the Mystery Meat (16 page)

“If I do that, will you let her go?”

Henrietta threw back her head and laughed. Mortadella barked and snapped her teeth at Freekin. “Let her go. If you mean, will we take her back to Snickering Willows, the answer is yes.”

“Then we have a deal,” Freekin said.

“Freekin, don’t do it,” Lilly begged him. “They’re lying. It won’t save me. I heard them talking in the limo on the way here. They thought I was unconscious. They said that sooner or later, all your friends will wind up here. The mayor is in on the plot. And so is the chief of police.”

“That’s true, we did say that,” Horatio agreed. “But I promise, Freekin, we’ll take her back to town tonight and leave her alone until at least tomorrow morning.”

He smiled his jaggedy smile. “Mr. Ripp, if you
please, join Miss Weezbrock on her little step stool. Miss Weezbrock, you will then have the honor of pushing him in.”

Back in the graveyard, Lord Grym-Reaper made sure Tuberculosis and the others couldn’t see through the tinted windows of the driver’s section of his “limo” before he consented to let them use it. Then, as soon they drove away on their mission to rescue the people of Snickering Willows, Scary changed from a tiara and a curly black wig into the super-secret spy plane, and Pretty and Lord Grym-Reaper climbed aboard. Scary shot into the sky, wondering if the dread lord remembered that he was wearing a lot of makeup. He had made no effort to wipe it off, and he looked very, very weird.

“To the fermented fat factory, and hurry,” Lord Grym-Reaper told him.

Scary flew as fast as he could, scaring the daylights out of a passing swarm of bats.

“You two care very much for this undead boy,” Lord Grym-Reaper observed as they sped along. “And so do his many human friends. He was correct when he told us that he had quite a good life before he was cut down. I am truly impressed.”

“Yay,” Pretty said, batting her lashes at him.

Then his face hardened. His thin red lips pursed together tightly, like a cut.

“But as for the Snickerings…they have much to answer for.”

“Yay,” Pretty said again.

In the distance, a single plume of tallow-colored smoke twisted ominously from the jumbled silhouette of the fermented fat factory.

“Zoom, please,” Pretty begged Scary.

At the factory, Freekin faced Lilly, possibly for the last time. He could smell her scent even though it mingled with smoke, sweat, fat, and grime. It was the most wonderful smell in the world.

Lilly gazed up at him with tears in her big beautiful blue eyes. “I can’t believe it’s going to end like this, Freekin. Maybe after you’re boiled down, I can strain you and put you back together like a big meatball.”

“Look at that,” Horatio Snickering III said to Henrietta. “True love blossoms in the face of tragedy. The girl has lost her head.”

Lost her head,
Freekin thought.
Of course!

Freekin gazed hard at Lilly. “Maybe I’m the one who’s lost his head. Over you, Lilly.” Then he lowered his voice so that only she could hear. “Remember at the football
game, when they used my head as a fake football? I lost my head a lot.”

She nodded. “You did. You lost it all the time.” Her brows shot up.
“Oh.”

They shared a moment. They were in sync. They were…
ready
.

“Enough romance!” Henrietta shrieked. “Push him in!”

But Lilly had gotten his message. She knew just what to do.

“Good-bye, Freekin!” she cried dramatically, throwing the back of her hand across her forehead. “Alas! Woe is me! I will always miss you!”

Horatio and Henrietta cackled with glee. They embraced each other…and in that moment, when they were distracted, Lilly reached down, yanked off Freekin’s head, and threw it as hard as she could at the diabolical pair!

“Yeeeeee-ha!” Freekin yelled as his head crashed into Henrietta Snickering’s skull with a resounding thwack. The momentum slammed her into Horatio Snickering, who staggered backward, nearly losing his balance…but not quite. He caught Freekin’s head and held it against his moss-covered sternum, over his crab apple heart.

Freekin blinked. “Run, Lilly!” he told her.

“Mortadella, attack!” Henrietta shouted as the loathsome little creature popped out of her arms. The dog flew across the floor and sprang at Lilly, aiming for her throat.

“Freekin!” Lilly screamed as his headless body pulled her down into a squat. Mortadella sailed over Lilly’s head and skittered along the tile floor.

“Arfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarf
arfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarf
arfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarf.”
Mortadella yipped as she slid back around and headed back toward Freekin and Lilly.

Lilly broke Freekin’s arm off at the wrist. His bicep flexed and he bent his elbow into a boomerang shape.

“Throw me at the dog!” Freekin’s head called to her.

As much as Lilly hated hurting animals, she knew she had to do it.

As a cheerleader, she had watched a lot of football passes, and now she imagined the ball—or Freekin’s arm—shooting down the infield. It arched into the fetid air of the cavern and went wide.

“Arfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarf
arfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarf
arfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarf.”
Mortadella yipped, zooming after it.

“Try again!” Freekin shouted from across the cavern.

“Shut up!” Horatio yelled at him.

“Don’t you talk to him like that!” Lilly cried.

With a mighty
crack!
Lilly tore Freekin’s other arm free and aimed at Horatio. That arm went wide as well, and Horatio caught it, raising it over his head.

“You’ll have to do better than that, my dear!” he challenged her.

Lilly went for Freekin’s upper leg next and hurtled it at Henrietta. It slammed into her and landed her on her bottom.

“Stop her! She’s ruining everything!” Henrietta cried.

“Henrietta, for heaven’s sake, calm down and hold this.” He picked up Freekin’s head and lofted it up and down like a ball. “We’ll just dump him in like chicken pieces.”

“Arfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarf
arfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarf
arfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarfarf.”
Mortadella barked triumphantly, as she leaped back onto Lilly’s stepladder again.

Lilly shrieked and fell backward, catching herself from slipping into the cauldron. The lip of the huge pot was very hot, but she stayed put, raising up her feet to keep them out of Mortadella’s reach.

“Help!” Lilly shouted. “Please, somebody, help us!”

“No one is coming, my dear,” Henrietta said, grinning maniacally. “Just jump into the cauldron. Make it easier on us.”

“Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr,” Mortadella growled, as she danced on her back legs and snapped at Lilly’s toes.

“The evil little dog grabbed Freekin’s torso and other leg between her teeth, and gave them a fierce shake.

Horatio and Henrietta laughed so hard they could hardly move “Fetch him, dear!” Henrietta cried. “All of him.”

As Lilly watched in horror, Horatio drew closer to the cauldron and held Freekin’s head above the bubbling fermented fat, pausing dramatically.

“I’m sure Freekin’s intense Curiosity will prove to be very tasty,” he told Lilly, leering at her.

“Freekin, no!” Lilly pleaded.

Henrietta touched her hands to her face. “We’ve never actually
murdered
anyone before,” she said anxiously.

“
You
haven’t,” Horatio corrected her, with a very terrible smile.

“Wheeeeeeeeeeeeee!” Pretty screamed as the Scary-plane blasted through the brick wall of the fermented fat factory, then through the floor, and spiraled down, down into the cavern. Transforming into a fearsome, swooping pterodactyl with Pretty and Lord Grym-Reaper (who still had on his makeup) on his back, Scary cawed and clacked his sharp beak.

As she screamed and clung to his head, Pretty wrapped her tentacles around his feathers and pushed off him like a giant spring, shooting herself straight at Horatio Snickering. She grabbed Freekin’s head out of his hands and sprung back onto Scary. Then she dove down again and grabbed his torso and leg. Lord Grym-Reaper got started on putting him back together.

“Wheeeeeeeeee!” she shrieked again.

“Stop it, stop at once!” Horatio shouted.

“Us so fixing Freekin!” Pretty cried, as the plane dipped and dove, and she gathered up all the Freekin bits and the dread lord of the dead jammed them together in rapid fire fixing mode—hipbones, legbones, thighbones, until Freekin was fully freaked-up once more!

This is Belle! Wow, that is so cool!

This is Elvis. Freekin rocks!

Next Pretty hurtled herself at Mortadella instead—and missed.

“Mortadella, come to Mommy!” Henrietta cried, bending over and opening her arms. “I’ll protect you!”

But the little dog scampered into the shadows, whining and growling, her toenails clicking against the tiles.

Horatio Snickering III stared up at Lord Grym-Reaper, who gently sat Freekin down.