A Susan Slutt Mystery: Peril Over the Carport
By Michael G. Cornelius
Published by JMS Books LLC at Smashwords
Visit http://www.jms-books.com for more information.
Copyright 2010 Michael G. Cornelius
ISBN 978-1-61152-007-1
For more titles by Michael G. Cornelius at Smashwords visit
https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/michaelgcornelius
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Cover Photo Credit: Cano, Les Palenik
Used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.
Cover Design: J.M. Snyder
All rights reserved.
WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.
No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.
This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Published in the United States of America.
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WHO IS SUSAN SLUTT?
Merely the greatest girl detective since the invention of re-usable enema bags!
You’ve met her before, in the girl sleuth books of your youth. You loved her then, but since you were just a kid, you didn’t realize how ridiculous and unbelievable some of her adventures were.
Meet Susan Slutt. She’s not Nancy Drew, Kay Tracey, or the Dana Girls, but her R-rated adventures will bring back memories of your favorite heroines and (we hope!) leave you laughing.
The writers of this book wish to make clear that we intend no disrespect toward juvenile series books. Nor are we prejudiced against homosexuals or people of any ethnic group. In fact, we’re both avid collectors of series books, homosexuals, and people of all ethnic groups. The stereotypes in Susan Slutt make fun of the stereotypes that frequently appeared in series books, especially before 1950.
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A Susan Slutt Mystery: Peril Over the Carport
By Michael G. Cornelius
Chapter 1: A Visit from Above
“Look! Up in the sky!” gorgeous, vivacious teen sleuth Susan Slutt shouted, pointing excitedly up. “It’s a bird! It’s a plane! It’s—”
“It is a plane, you airhead,” Susan’s adopted sister Betty ‘Butch’ Hawkins grumblingly interrupted. Butch was particularly cranky that morning because it had rained all night long, and the pup tent she slept in on the Slutt family lawn had more holes in it than an M. Night Shymalan movie.
“Of course it’s a plane, Butch,” Susan laughed. “As you say, I’m an airhead—someone who knows all about aerodynamics and aircraft. In fact, I can tell you that is a Cessna-120, a type of two-passenger enclosed cockpit airplane. The Cessna-120 has a wingspan of 32 feet 10 inches, and a length of 21 feet six inches, with a top speed of 123 miles per hour and a range of 420 miles. Manufactured by the Cessna Aircraft Corporation of Wichita, Kansas, the Cessna 120 was introduced in 1945 with a base price of $2,495. That particular Cessna has a British flag on the tail, which marks it as being from the British Isles.”
“Why would a British plane be flying over Porkerville?” Butch wondered aloud.
Before Susan could respond, a voice interrupted them from the Slutt back porch. “Susan!” Susan Slutt’s best friend in the whole wide world, Ashleigh Nettleson, was the one calling. “Lana said to call you in for breakfast! We’re having blueberry pancakes, scrambled eggs, Canadian bacon, cranberry scones, and wholesome skim milk.”
“That sounds delicious!” Susan said, smacking her lips in anticipation. “But it’ll have to wait a few minutes! I’m watching this plane up in the sky!”
Ashleigh walked over to the two girls. Butch threw her a dirty glance. “Where did you go, Ash?” she asked sulkily. “I thought you were going to stay with me in the tent last night. I got lonely when I woke up in the rain and you were gone.”
“Ashleigh slept in the house, Butch,” Susan replied, answering for her friend. “I mean, goodness, it was storming an awful lot last night! On the late news the weatherman said we were going to get three inches of rain overnight! So, of course, I came out here and woke Ashleigh up and brought her inside.”
Butch exploded. “Well, if Ashleigh got to go into the house, then why didn’t you wake me up, too? I got soaking wet!”
Susan laughed. “Butch, Ashleigh is a guest. Of course she can stay inside. But you’re family.”
“All the more reason to give me a room inside the house!” Butch was furious now. “So I can feel like a real part of the family!”
Susan smiled indulgently at her sister. Sometimes Butch just didn’t get it! “Butch, you’re not really a part of the family. You’re just my father’s ward and my adopted sister. You’re not a real Slutt at all and you never will be. You don’t belong in the house.”
“Can’t I at least build a little shed to protect me from the elements?” Butch thundered incredulously. “A shack? A shanty? A lean-to? A teepee?”
“Sorry, Butch, but any such domicile would simply ruin the landscaping back here,” Susan said, waving her arm over the thirty-acre expanse of the Slutt family lawn. “And you know how hard I work Lana in the garden! Really, it wouldn’t be fair to her if I let you build a shanty back here.”
Ashleigh, bored by Butch’s whining, broke in. “Come on, Susan,” she said. “Let’s go into the house for breakfast. I’m starving. That midnight snack of foie gras on melba toast and dainty petits fours you had Lana bring me didn’t tide me over at all!”
“I’ll come inside in a minute, Ash,” Susan said. “I’m just waiting for the plane to land.”
Both Butch and Ashleigh were astonished at this news. “Here?!?” they chorused together.
“That plane is landing here?” Butch added. “Where?”
“Daddy had an airstrip built in the back. There’s plenty of room.”
“But why would that plane land here?” Ashleigh asked.
Susan turned to her friend. “You see—”
But before she could explain, the three girls noticed that the plane flying above them suddenly started to plummet towards the ground. “Oh, my goodness!” Ashleigh cried. “I think that plane’s going to crash—right into your house, Susan!”
* * * *
Chapter 2: Stewardesses on Parade
The three girls watched in horror as the small craft rocketed nose-first toward the unyielding earth below. They gasped as the plane barely missed the Slutt’s palatial three-story manse and crashed into the yard with a mighty crunch!
Breathlessly, the three girls ran toward the crash, praying there would be survivors. Yet to their surprise, though the plane looked mangled beyond all repair, they saw three passengers alight with nary a hair out of place, as if nothing had happened.
“Well done, Tony!” said the first, a striking young blonde woman wearing the smart, crisp uniform of a flight stewardess.
The second passenger exiting the plane was dressed the same as the first, only instead of being blonde, she had an unruly head of red curls. “Yeah, ducks, way to go!”
The third passenger coming behind them—who had clearly been the pilot of the plane—was dressed identically to the first two, except where the blond and the redhead wore smart stewardess hats, this passenger wore a pilot’s cap. This person also had short, thick brown hair and, oddly enough, a handlebar mustache that was the biggest Susan, Ashleigh, or Butch had ever seen, easily three feet long from curled tip to curled tip.
“Ta!” the blonde stewardess was saying to the three girls, walking over with her hand extended. “‘Allo! I’m Shirley Flighty. These are my friends, Wendy Morehead”—as she said this Shirley pointed to the redhead—“and Tony Suckworth. We are ever so delighted to make your acquaintance.”
“Are you all right?” Susan asked, her concern for the three crash victims overriding her excellent breeding and manners and momentarily causing Susan to forget to introduce herself to the trio.
“That must have been a terrifying ordeal,” Butch added sympathetically.
But the flight stewardesses were laughing. “That? Blimey, that’s nothing,” Shirley replied. “We’ve crashed our plane so many times it’s old hat to us by now! Why, we crashed in the desert over Saudi Arabia, we crashed into the ocean near a deserted island in the Pacific, we’ve crashed at Heathrow Airport—”
“Don’t forget the time I crashed in the Congo,” Wendy Morehead interrupted.
“That’s right-o,” Shirley said. “And of course we’ve been forced to ditch the plane in the wilds of Australia, in the frozen tundra of Canada, off the coast of Africa…”
“I can’t believe how much you’ve crashed!” Butch exclaimed. “You must have the most incompetent pilots working today!”
Shirley Flighty’s eyes blazed. “You take that back!” she spat. “If it wasn’t for the skill of our pilots, we wouldn’t keep surviving these constant crashes. After all, what’s a more important skill for a pilot, the ability to fly and land a plane without incident or the ability to handle an emergency when the pilot incompetently flies into a hurricane, or a typhoon, or a nor’easter, depending upon what part of the world we’re in?”
Susan couldn’t argue with that logic, so she tactfully changed the subject. “I just love your uniforms!” she said. “They are such a striking shade of fluorescent orange. What airline do you work for?”
“Tranny Continental Airlines,” Tony Suckworth spoke up. Susan was surprised such a deep, manly voice emanated from someone whose legs were as smooth as a baby’s bottom. “We’ve just started daily flights from London to Porkerville. Since all of the blue law crackdowns in England, the porno palaces and houses of ill repute here have made Porkerville a hot tourist destination!”
“We’re just ‘appy to be ‘ere!” Wendy exclaimed, a wide smile on her face.
Ashleigh was amused. “My, my, my,” she murmured, “I do declare, I’ve never heard such a funny way of talkin’ in all my life, fiddle-dee-dee!”
Shirley Flighty turned to Susan. “Well, if I were to guess, luv, you must be Susan Slutt.”
“How do you know that’s Susan Slutt?” Butch asked incredulous.
“Easy, silly,” Shirley replied. “Her father gave us a perfect description of her. Let’s see, how did he put it? ‘Flawless skin, ravishing titian-colored hair, gargantuan breasts, peek-a-boo bra and panty set…’ I’d say he didn’t do you justice, dearie, but I’m no dyke, am I?” she added with a laugh.
Susan smiled. It was evident Shirley was no dyke—she was English, after all, not Dutch.
“Well, I am!” Wendy Morehead spoke up. “Despite me last name, I prefer muffdiving over knob-jobbing any day o’ the week!”
“That’s good to know,” Ashleigh said as she idled closer to Wendy.
“Hmph,” Tony Suckworth sniffed. “You don’t know what you’re missing, Wendy. There’s nothing I like more than gettin’ some bangers with me mash!”
Susan smiled. These British people certainly had a colorful way of talking!
“I’m still confused,” Butch said to Shirley Flighty. “How do you know Mr. Slutt? Why were you looking for Susan?”
“Well, she’s going to show us our new apartment the airline is renting for us while we’re in town,” Shirley explained.
“What new apartment?” Butch quizzed. “Where will you be staying?”
“Right here, luv,” Shirley replied. “In the apartment over the carport.”
* * * *
Chapter 3: No Room at the Carport
“There’s an apartment over the garage?!?” Butch exploded.
Susan grinned. “Of course, Butch. Daddy had the space renovated last year. It’s only a modest apartment, just two stories, with four bedrooms, three full bathrooms, a parlor, a den, a conservatory, a library, two offices, a gourmet kitchen, a dining room that seats fourteen—”
Shirley Flighty interrupted. “When we saw the ad, we knew it was perfect for us!”
“What ad?” Butch asked.
In reply, Shirley handed Butch a small scrap of paper cut out of a newspaper that read: “Apartment for rent. Spacious, luxuriously-appointed, located over the garage of handsome, middle-aged, randy criminal attorney. Pay minimum rent in exchange for various services, including but not limited to teabagging, shrimping, and choking the chicken.”
“What an odd ad!” Susan exclaimed. “The newspaper clearly made some mistakes. They call my father ‘Randy’ when everyone knows his name is Jonathan Slutt. But isn’t kind of him to offer a reduced rent in exchange for menial kitchen work? I’m sure Lana will appreciate the extra help.”
Butch couldn’t take it any longer. “I can’t believe any of this!” she shrieked. “You force me to live in the backyard in a leaking tent when there’s been a luxury apartment sitting empty above the garage this whole time?”
Susan gave Butch a stern look. “Butch! That apartment is for paying renters, not for family. And no one forces you to live in the backyard. You could always stay in the front. Heavens knows, with all the cases I’ve solved, we could use some extra security around here!”
“What are you all talking about?” a cross voice suddenly interrupted. It was Lana Ruin, the Slutt family maid. Though the maid was six months younger than Susan, the girl sleuth looked to Lana for all her maternal needs—namely cooking, cleaning, sewing, ironing, washing, and drying. “Breakfast is getting cold! Come on inside before it’s all ruined!”
Susan turned to her guests. “Won’t you join us for some breakfast?”
Wendy Morehead eagerly nodded. “Thanks, luv! I could go for a bit of nosh me’self!”
The others all eagerly trouped behind Susan and thanked her as the girl sleuth graciously held the door open for her guests. “Wait, Butch!” she said as Butch attempted to enter into the spacious Slutt family breakfast nook last. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Inside,” Butch said. “For breakfast.”
Susan rolled her eyes. “Butch, I don’t know what’s gotten into you today! You know as well as I do only family members and guests eat in the breakfast nook!”
Butch faltered. “But I thought, since it rained so hard last night, and since we had company, that maybe—”
“Sorry, Butch, but the sight of your unkempt hair and combat boots so early in the morning might upset our guests’ delicate constitutions. Besides, watching you eat out of your dog dish turns my stomach.”
“But I cleaned it last night!” Butch pleaded as Susan Slutt closed the door behind her. “Remember how it shines after I polish it? It’s monogrammed and everything! You got it for me for my birthday last year, remember?”
The only response was the slamming of the door.
Butch watched as the gaggle of happy guests sat down to a scrumptious repast at the Slutt family breakfast nook table. Grumbling, she trotted toward the small crabapple tree in one corner of the backyard and pulled down her usual breakfast fare. “One of these days,” she intoned darkly as she took a bite of the sour fruit. “One of these days…”
* * * *
Chapter 4: A Special Invitation
“So how do you like your new tenants?” Ashleigh Nettleson was asking Susan Slutt. It had been a week since the three British airline workers moved into the apartment over the garage.
“It’s been nice having other girls around,” Susan said. “I can talk to Shirley and Wendy and Tony about stuff I can’t talk to Lana about, since she’s just a maid and we only communicate when I’m giving her orders, or Butch, since she’s not interested in topics like makeup, cleanliness, or manners.”
“Hi, girls,” a voice called out to them. It was Beverly Francis Bold, a good chum to both. “Lana let me in. I was just visiting Tony in the apartment above the garage. What a beautiful place that is!”
“Thank you,” Susan said as Lana entered the room with a silver salver loaded down with cool drinks and snacks. “What do you think of our new guests, Lana? Have they been helping you out in the kitchen as they said they would?”
“Actually, they’ve been big helps,” Lana said, “though they’ve been doing most of their work in your father’s bedroom, if you know what I mean.”
Susan certainly did—there was always some vacuuming and dusting to be done in there, as she often heard Lana comment about what a ‘dirty old man’ her father was.
“You know how your father likes his girl-on-girl action,” Lana was saying. “Between that redheaded dyke and the blond one, who is ‘bi-coastal,’ I’ve managed to get a solid night’s sleep for the first time in years!”
This news disturbed Susan—if Lana was sleeping well, clearly she had too much time on her hands and needed more chores around the house.
“Well, I think Tony is a dream,” Beverly was saying. “He gave me some great foundation tips, and the things he can do with his mustache—very impressive, I tell you.”
“Well, I don’t like them at all!” a voice piped up from the window. The group turned to see Butch staring sullenly in. “I think they’re horrible people! They’re always coming and going, flying their plane in at all hours of the night—why, last night they blew my pup tent over! It took me two hours to get it untangled from the dogwood tree.”
Susan laughed. “Of course they’re coming and going a lot, Butch! They’re busy career people.”
Butch sniffed. “I think there’s something funny going on. I don’t care what they say. They leave at midnight to fly off to London and they’re back at 3 A.M.? No way. Besides, it’s starting to smell in that apartment.”
“Of course it smells, Butch! They’re foreigners.” Susan rolled her eyes. Her sister knew so little of other cultures!
Butch turned her gaze toward Susan’s lovely but vacant blue eyes. “Susan, can’t I please sleep in the house tonight? I’ll sleep in the cellar if you want, just anything so I don’t have to keep getting run over by their plane!”
Susan shook her head. “Butch, you just don’t get it. How would it look to our English guests if you slept inside the house?”
“Well, can’t I come in now?” Butch countered. “You used to let me in the house before they arrived!”
“I know,” Susan confessed, “and perhaps we did get a little lax about it. But Butch, these people are English. Except for their smell, they have superior breeding in every way. We have to keep up appearances in front of them.”
Before Butch could open her mouth to protest, a jaunty rap at the door interrupted her reply. “Salutations one and all!” a cheery voice called out. It was Shirley Flighty. “I’ve just popped down to extend you lot an invitation to dine with us this very evening. Tony, Wendy, and I have so enjoyed living here with you all we’d like to say thanks in our own small way.”
“What a delightful invitation!” Susan said. “We’d be happy to accept.”
Shirley smiled brightly. “Right-o. That’s five, then? Susan, Ashleigh, Beverly, Mr. Slutt, and Lana Ruin.”
“Can I come?” Butch peeped. She had heard many fine things about the delicious food on Tranny Continental Airlines.
“Why, sure—” Shirley Flighty started to respond.
Susan cut her off. “Butch!” she said severely. “Don’t embarrass me! We’ll bring you some scraps when we’re done.”
“Cheerio then, ducks!” Shirley Flighty said. “We’ll see you sharply at eight. And bring your appetites! We’re going to be serving the finest fare Tranny Continental has to offer! Ta-ta!”
“Ta-ta,” Butch mumbled dejectedly. Not even the sight of Shirley Flighty’s tight, firm buttocks in their snug stewardess uniform could put a smile on the glum mannish girl’s face.
* * * *
Chapter 5: Coffee, Tea, or Me?
“Welcome aboard, one and all!” Tony Suckworth laughingly welcomed his guests in the lovely luxury apartment above the Slutt’s garage. “Welcome to our little carport manse. If you’ll step this way…” he added, motioning his guests towards the dining room.
To Susan’s surprise, the chairs in the dining room had been arranged in three neat rows of two chairs each. “You all have a nametag on your chair,” Tony said. “Sit, sit!”
“How adorable,” Susan said as she found her seat in the middle of the rows next to Ashleigh. Her father and Lana sat in front of them while Beverly and Tony sat behind them. “They’ve arranged the seats like we’re on one of Tranny Continental’s planes!”
“Yeah, but do the seats have to be so small?” Ashleigh complained.
Susan wrinkled her nose—if Ashleigh would lose those five extra pounds she was always carrying, the seat size wouldn’t really be a problem.
“There’s no legroom, either,” Beverly Bold was saying.
“Here we go!” Shirley Flighty announced, pushing a small cart in front of her. “Drinks for everyone!” she added, handing out napkins with a small bird imprinted on them. “The bird you see on our serviettes is the ‘Sighing Swallow.’ It’s the insignia of Tranny Continental!”
Tony elbowed Beverly in the ribs. “Maybe after dinner I can show you how I can swallow,” he said with a grin.
Susan’s ears perked up in interest. She loved birdcalls! She was going to ask if Tony knew how to do a whooping crane when Shirley Flighty started passing out the drinks. “What would you like, sir?” she asked with a smile to Jonathan Slutt.
“Do you have any scotch?” he asked.
Susan smiled. Daddy sure loves his scotch! she thought to herself. Why, I remember how his love for scotch lead to my very first case, The Case of the Missing Scotch, though it was such a boring mystery no one ever bothered to write it down. Hmm, I’ve just realized something unusual—if this is a Susan Slutt Mystery, why hasn’t there been any hint of a mystery yet?
“Here you are,” Shirley Flighty was saying as she passed a small bottle of scotch to Jonathan Slutt. “That’ll be twenty dollars, sir!”
“Twenty dollars!” Jonathan Slutt exploded. “But there’s only one ounce of scotch in this little bottle!”
Shirley Flighty’s smile grew ever wider. “Those are the rules, sir.”
“But I didn’t bring my wallet with me!” Jonathan Slutt wailed.
Deftly Shirley Flighty took the bottle of scotch back from a protesting Mr. Slutt and handed him a small plastic cup filled mostly with ice and a trace amount of a dark liquid. “And what can I get for you, Susan?” the stewardess asked with a merry smile.
“Do you have iced tea?” Susan queried.
“Sorry,” Shirley replied, shaking her head.
“How about some lemonade?”
Shirley shook her head again. “Not that either, I’m afraid.”
Susan furrowed her brow in concentration. “A Shirley Temple? Orange juice? Decaf coffee? A vanilla milkshake? Tap water?”
Each request, however, brought another negative response. “Well, what do you have?”
“We have cola and diet cola,” Shirley replied.
“Diet cola,” Susan said, and Shirley used a teaspoon to pour Susan’s drink over the ice and into her plastic cup.
“I ‘ope everyone’s ‘ungry!” a voice called out. Wendy Morehead walked in balancing six trays in her arms. Each tray held a gleaning silver charger concealed by an equally shiny silver cover. “I’ve been slavin’ in the galley all day!”
Susan licked her lips in anticipation of the meal. “This is going to be great!” Ashleigh whispered to Susan as Wendy set a tray down in front of each of them.
“Ta-dah!” the stewardess exclaimed as she pulled the cover off each tray.
“A bag of pretzels?” Lana Ruin said, crestfallen. If she had known what the stewardesses would be serving, she would have happily stayed home and cooked her own meal!
“You got pretzels?” Beverly Bold spoke up from the rear of the dining room ‘plane.’ “I got pork rinds!”
“That’s because you ordered the kosher meal,” Shirley explained.
“I’ll trade!” Ashleigh exclaimed, switching the little bags before Beverly could protest.
“Excuse me,” Wendy was saying. “If everyone would like to look out of the left side of the dining room, they can see the lovely Slutt family driveway with Susan Slutt’s beautiful powder-blue roadster parked out front. If you look out the right, you’ll see the expansive Slutt family yard, exquisitely landscaped, and only marred by one scraggly pup tent.”
Susan grimaced. She knew Butch was leaving a bad impression!
Wendy continued. “We’re currently cruising at about twelve feet. The captain has the ‘No Smoking’ sign on. Please keep your seat belts fastened if you are not moving about the dining room. On behalf of Tony, Shirley, and myself, we thank you for dining at Tranny Continental Air and wish you all a pleasant journey home.”
Ashleigh got out of her seat. “I think those pork rinds are running right through me,” she whispered to Susan. “I got to take a dump! Where’s the crapper?”
Susan rolled her eyes. “Don’t be so crass, Ash! In Britain it’s called the loo, and it’s the third door on the left.”
Ashleigh made her way to relieve herself, but when she put her hand on the doorknob, Shirley Flighty jumped up. “Don’t go in there!” she exclaimed. “If you do, the whole place might blow up!”
* * * *
Chapter 6: An Explosive Situation
“Blow up?!?” Ashleigh cried, taking a giant step back away from the craphouse door.
Tony Suckworth let out a low, nervous laugh. “Aww, ducks, Shirley’s only kidding ya. It’s just the loo is such a mess right now—I got me pantyhose hanging all over it. And you know how we Brits are about keeping up appearances, luv. That’s all we meant.”
“Oh,” Ashleigh replied. But Susan was not convinced! Something smelled funny to her keen detective nose—and it certainly wasn’t dinner, as Susan had always enjoyed the aroma of pretzels.
“Well, thanks so much for coming,” Wendy said, herding the confused group out of the apartment. “We’ve ever so much cleaning up to do. Ta, and thanks for flying—err, dining with us. Good night!”
Outside, Jonathan Slutt voiced his concern. “That certainly was odd,” he said to his lovely daughter, ogling her bosoms as his mind foundered on more serious subjects—like wondering what color peek-a-boo bra and crotchless panty suit Susan was wearing tonight. “What did you think, sweetheart?”
Susan gave her father a winning smile. “Well, the dinner was simply lovely, but the explanation about the bathroom seemed a little farfetched to me. Why, I’ve never seen Tony wearing pantyhose, so why would it be hanging all over the place?”
Before anyone could respond, Butch came bounding up to the group. “How was dinner? Where are my leftovers? What did you bring me?”
Lana Ruin shrugged. “Sorry, Butch, there weren’t any leftovers.”
Butch’s shoulders sagged. “No leftovers! But I’m starving!”
Susan spoke up. “Sorry, Butch, but wait until you hear about the oddest thing that happened right after dinner. Ashleigh had to do a number two, so she got up and—”
But the girl sleuth’s story was interrupted by a powerful scream from her Nettleson chum! “Look up there!” she said, pointing above the Slutt family garage. “There’s a ghost in the sky!”
* * * *
Chapter 7: The Sky Phantom
All eyes immediately gazed above. Sure enough, hanging above the garage was a dark, hazy figure resembling a great spectral man!
“Oh, my gosh, it’s a poltergeist!” Beverly Bold screamed.
Lana Ruin shook her head. “Actually, a poltergeist is an invisible mischievous spirit that plays tricks and moves objects around rooms. That’s more like a banshee.”
Susan Slutt snorted. “A banshee takes on the form of a spectral woman who screams loudly to announce the death of a member of an Irish clan,” she said superiorly. “That is a sky phantom.”
“Well, what do we do?” Ashleigh Nettleson quivered.
“We need to investigate more closely!” Susan Slutt exclaimed.
“How are we supposed to do that?” Ashleigh queried.
“No time to explain!” Susan said as she grabbed Ashleigh and Butch and made her way into the backyard. Suddenly the two girls—the one five pounds overweight and the other as mannish as an East German weightlifter—realized where Susan was heading…straight for the stewardesses’ plane!
“Susan!” Ashleigh said, sucking in her breath. “Have you been taking flying lessons without us knowing?”
“Of course not!” the intrepid girl sleuth replied. “But I’ve flown in airplanes dozens of times. How hard can it be?”
Both Butch and Ashleigh balked at joining Susan in the tiny, flimsy craft, but Susan would not take no for an answer. “Besides,” she said, “we’ve seen Tony crash it three times already and he’s walked away every time. I just have to investigate that sky phantom up close!”
Soon the three girls were belted tightly in their seats. Ashleigh was babbling hysterically about how, “We are all going to die and I don’t want to die right now when they do the autopsy everyone will know I have crabs”—which Susan thought was rude, since it was impolite of Ashleigh to feast on crabs before going to their festive dinner party—while Butch was mumbling on and on about, “Dying on an empty stomach, but at least it’s quicker than starvation.”
Susan eyed the instrument panel in front of her. Though she had never flown before, she felt confident that, as a proper girl sleuth, she would instinctively know what to do. She flipped a few switches and the engine roared to life. “Here we go, girls!” she said as she began to race the small craft down the makeshift backyard runway.
“We’re not getting into the air!” Ashleigh screamed. “Go faster!”
Susan gunned the engine, but it had no effect. “We’re not getting enough lift!” Susan cried.
“Look out for those tall pine trees!” Ashleigh screamed, covering her face with her friends.
“We’re too heavy!” Susan yelled above the roar of the engine. Desperately the girl sleuth looked around the cabin. Was there any dead weight she could eject from the plane in order to save her own privileged life?
Ashleigh screamed as they got closer and closer to the trees. “We’re going to crash!”
* * * *
Chapter 8: A Thief in the Night
Quick as thought, Susan knew what to do. Reaching over with one delicately manicured hand, she unbuckled Butch’s belt, swung the door open, and pushed her screaming adopted sister out of the plane! “Ahhhh!” Butch screamed as she fell headfirst into the hard dirt below, but Butch’s weight made the difference! The two remaining girls cleared the trees!
“I’ve never been more afraid in all my life!” Ashleigh sputtered. “That was quick thinking, Susan!”
But Susan wasn’t paying any attention to what Ashleigh was saying. Her mind was solely focused on catching the sky phantom! Quickly she banked the plane towards the garage but to her dismay, in the confusion of take-off, the sky phantom had disappeared.
Susan turned around again and expertly completed a touch-down landing with the small craft. Stepping out of the plane, she barely noticed Butch’s crumpled body on the lawn as she stepped over her fallen sister. Her thoughts were all about the sky phantom. I’ve never seen a phantom above the garage before, Susan mused. It must have some connection to those three stewardesses. But which of them is the ghost haunting?
Later that night, while Susan brushed her luxurious hair five hundred times and scrubbed her pearly white teeth until they glistened, she found she could not stop thinking about the sky phantom. Where had it come from? How had it disappeared so quickly? If one sky phantom left Porkerville going fifty miles an hour and another sky phantom left Cow Mountain going thirty-five miles an hour, what would Lana serve for breakfast tomorrow?
Rolling over, Susan looked at her clock. Why, it was two in the morning! She’d been tossing and turning all night long fretting about the sky phantom. Thankfully, a girl sleuth of her natural good looks needed no beauty rest, but still, it was always better sleuthing after a good night’s sleep.
Just as Susan was drifting off, she heard a scratching sound coming from down the hall. What is that? she mused. Then the sound grew louder, and she heard the unmistakable noise of a second floor window being raised. Goodness gracious! Susan thought to herself. Someone is trying to break into our lovely Slutt family manse!
* * * *
Chapter 9: A Costly Bargain
Stealthily the girl sleuth crept out of bed. Susan knew her father and Lana Ruin, who both slept on the third floor, were probably still asleep, so she must deal with the intruder herself. She grabbed a poker from the fireplace in her room and snuck quietly into the hall. Her keen detective ears alerted her to the fact that someone was trying to break into a bathroom on the second floor.
The entire second floor of the Slutt family manse belonged to Susan, and she had two bathrooms; the first was a luxurious affair with a giant whirlpool bath, shower stall, and bidet with gold fixtures and platinum trim. The second one was for Susan’s use when Lana Ruin was cleaning the first, and was nearly as opulent as the former. It was this room that some nefarious hoodlum was creeping into!
In the dark Susan saw a figure struggling to get through the window as quietly as possible. She raised her poker. WHAM! She brought the heavy iron instrument down upon the head of the burglar.
“Ow!” a deep voice screamed.
WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! Susan struck again and again with savage ferocity. Only when the limp figure stopped moving did Susan pause to turn on the light.
“Butch!” she said to the unconscious figure on the floor. “What are you doing in here?”
There was no answer. Susan stared at her sister. While she felt some sadness that Butch was bleeding profusely from her head, it was Butch’s own fault for sneaking into Susan’s second bathroom like that. Why isn’t Butch in her tent? Susan wondered. She shrugged. “I’ll put her there myself,” she said aloud to no one in particular. And without another word, she hoisted Butch back through the window and listened for the satisfying thud of Butch’s body hitting the concrete patio below.
Knowing Lana Ruin often stayed up late doing her chores—Lana often talked about polishing Mr. Slutt’s wand late at night, though Susan had never seen a wand amongst her father’s family jewels—Susan found the maid and ordered her to clean up the bloodstains in the bathroom. Then Susan finally went to her bed to enjoy a refreshing night’s sleep.
When Susan woke the next morning, the mystery was the furthest thing from her mind. She pulled open her curtains to let the sunshine pour in. “What a glorious morning!” she said. “I’m quite hungry. For breakfast, I believe I’ll have—”
But before Susan could decide what she wanted for breakfast, she spied something out of her window that made her stop in mid-order. The sky phantom had returned!
Quickly Susan ran downstairs and out the front door, despite the fact her cerulean-colored negligee barely covered her ample bosoms. Running toward the garage, the young sleuth tripped over something and fell sprawling to the ground! “Butch!” she said. “Watch where you’re sleeping! I almost broke the heel on one of my bedroom slippers!”
Groggily, Butch rolled over and sat up. “Where am I? What am I doing here? The last thing I remember, I was trying to break into the house to get something to eat. I was so hungry since you haven’t fed me for a week!”
“Don’t worry about your trivial problems now, Butch,” Susan said. “Look! The sky phantom has returned!”
Even as she said it, the girl sleuth noticed the phantom had already begun to dissipate. “Drats!” Susan said. “I’m never going to catch that phantom! I know!” she added with a jolt of sudden inspiration. “Butch, we have to get inside that apartment. I believe the sky phantom is connected to those three stewardesses. We have to check their place over for clues!”
Butch rubbed her head. “Forget it. You’ve been terrible to me this whole week! You won’t let me inside the house anymore, you don’t feed me at all…even with your breasts hanging out of your nightie like that, I refuse to help!”
“But you have to, Butch!” Susan cried. “I need you with me for my plan to work!”
Butch eyed her sister craftily. “What will you give me if I help you?”
Susan racked her brain. “I’ll upgrade your dog food from the generic brand to Eukanuba.”
Butch made a retching noise. “Dog food! I thought that was chili!” Groggily, Butch rose to her feet. “Forget it, Susan! I’m not helping you at all, unless…unless…unless you let me live in the apartment above the garage when the mystery is solved!”
Butch? Living above the garage like a real person? It was too much to ask for, but Susan was desperate. “Agreed!” she said, shaking hands on it.
Butch grinned. “All right then. Let’s ground those stewardesses once and for all.”
* * * *
Chapter 10: Breaking and Entering
The two girls waited until Shirley Flighty, Wendy Morehead, and Tony Suckworth all left in their little plane. “Come on!” Susan urged Butch as they made their way to the apartment. “I heard Shirley saying they were flying to Mexico, so we have plenty of time!”
“I don’t get why we’re breaking in,” Butch whispered as she smashed a window and climbed into the apartment. “I mean, you’re the landlord, you have a spare key.”
“Butch!” Susan rolled her eyes. “This is why I’m the detective and you’re the lowly assistant. If we used the key, they would know we’d been here.”
Butch had to admit Susan’s plan did have some logic. “That’s actually a pretty smart thought.”
“Of course,” Susan added. “And that’s why I’m wearing gloves, so they can’t find any of my fingerprints here.”
“Shouldn’t I have some gloves then, too?” Butch asked.
Susan laughed. “Of course not, Butch! The police need to find your fingerprints so they won’t become suspicious of me! Besides, it’s completely in your character to rob from people better than you!” Before Butch could retort, Susan continued talking. “Quickly, let’s search all the bedrooms first. Look for anything suspicious.”
Susan walked into the first room. The closet was full of flight stewardess uniforms, all size twenty-two. “This must be Tony’s room,” Susan mused, noticing the copious mustache-grooming supplies. She searched thoroughly but found nothing suspicious except a book entitled The Joy of Gay Sex. “I’ve heard sex between man and wife should always be merry,” Susan said aloud. “But Tony’s not married, so what would he be doing with this book?”
Wondering if perhaps the tome held some secret clue between its pages, Susan sat down on the bed and began to examine it. She noticed the pages were very sticky. “Tony was probably eating something sweet when he last read this!” Susan laughed. “Why, how strange—this isn’t about sex at all! It seems like a how-to guide to men’s wrestling!” Susan checked every page carefully, but found no clue to solving the mystery of the sky phantom.
Putting the book down, Susan decided to look for Butch. She finally found the mannish youth in Wendy Morehead’s room. “Butch!” Susan said in shock. “Are you smelling Wendy’s lacey undergarments?”
“Uhh, umm,” butch stammered, quickly shoving the redheaded girl’s underwear back into the drawer. “I was just sniffing for clues—I mean, looking for clues!”
Before Susan could reply, the two heard the sound of a key in the front door. “They’re back!” Susan hissed at Butch. “Hide!”
* * * *
Chapter 11: The Phantom Unmasked
Quickly the two girls dashed under Wendy Morehead’s bed. Fortunately, the three stewardesses went immediately into Wendy’s room to discuss their nefarious plans. “Well, that was easy, ducks!” Wendy was saying. She sat down heavily on her bed, her feet only inches away from Susan’s pretty face. “Another shipment delivered! Mr. Bigg will be pleased with the boodle we brought home today!”
“I say, you’re right about that, Wendy, me girl,” Tony added. “We got the swag this time for sure!”
“Boodle?” Susan whispered to Butch. “Swag? I wish British people spoke English!”
Butch rolled her eyes. “They’re talking about money,” she whispered back. “Just shut up and listen.”
Shirley spoke up. “It was such a good idea of Mr. Bigg’s to set us up in this swank pad over this carport. It makes the perfect place to cook up methamphetamines. Who’d ever suspect a meth lab being secreted away in the home of the world’s greatest girl sleuth since the invention of Dutch elm disease? Boy, if that girl dick downstairs could hear us talking now! Wouldn’t she like to know what we’re up to? Wouldn’t she love to be lying under the bed right now, listening in to our every plan, as a convenient way to wrap up the mystery?”
With a smile, Shirley started from the room. “Come on, ducks, it’s best we’re off making another batch of drugs for Mr. Bigg!” she said as she lead Wendy and Tony out of the room. “That’s right, just in case anyone didn’t get it the first three times, we sell drugs,” she added before conveniently closing the door behind her.
“Butch? Did you hear that?” Susan whispered excitedly, turning to her adopted sister. “I think I’ve figured it out! I think this case has something to do with illegal drugs!”
Butch snorted in derision. “Duh! How’d you figure that out, genius?” she asked snidely. “I bet you figured out the sky phantom is merely gaseous residue from the meth cooking process too, right?”
Susan glowed at Butch’s praise. “Well, I—Butch, are you sniffing Wendy’s panties again?”
“Never mind!” Butch said, stuffing the underwear into her pants. “We got to get out of here and call the cops! Once they arrest these three, this whole apartment will be mine!”
“There’s no time to call the police!” Susan intoned. “Butch, these evil drug pushers might get away at any moment!”
“But Susan, they don’t suspect we know a thing. They didn’t even notice the broken window, which is frankly a little weird. Besides, methamphetamine is a very volatile substance. If handled improperly, it could cause this whole garage to explode! I don’t want anything happening to me…or my new apartment!”
Susan stood up confidently. “Relax, Butch,” she said. “I’m a trained girl sleuth! I’ve solved fourteen cases already—fifteen if you count that boring one no one bothered to write up. What could possible go wrong?”
* * * *
Chapter 12: Butch’s Just Desserts
“—And then I blew up the entire apartment and the three evil drug dealers sky high!” Susan finished triumphantly.
Police Chief Dave Stevens scratched his head in awe. Mostly he was in awe of how good Susan’s enormous bosoms looked in her low cut organza cocktail dress, but he was also in awe of how deftly she had managed to bring three evildoers to their own sweet justice. “I can’t thank you enough, Susan Slutt,” he said. “Why, with those three blown up, not only have you rid Porkerville of those terrible drug pushers, but you’ve saved me a ton of paperwork, too!”
Susan smiled at Dave’s kind words. “All in a day’s work!” she said brightly.
Butch scowled. “I think it sucks! Instead of my own luxury apartment, I’m still stuck in a pup tent in the backyard!”
Susan put an arm around her sister. “Cheer up, Butch! Just think of the exciting role you’ll play in my next mystery, The Case of the Borrowed Bungalow.”
“Oh, I can’t wait,” Butch mumbled sarcastically.
Susan grinned; Butch was almost as eager as Susan for another crime to solve! “I’ll tell you what, Butch,” Susan said. “It’s such a sweltering hot summer day, and you were such a big help to me. Why don’t I take you out for an ice cream cone?”
“Really?” Butch said, her stomach growling at the thought of food.
“We’ll all go!” Dave Stevens said. Jonathan Slutt and Lana Ruin were easily persuaded to join the group.
Twenty minutes later Susan was licking a small French vanilla cone. “Oh, Daddy,” she said, pulling an envelope out of her purse. “This telegram came today for someone named I.M. Bigg. I told the messenger he was delivering it to the wrong address but he insisted. Might this be a business associate of yours? My, I don’t think I’ve tasted such delicious ice cream in a long time!”
Dave Stevens looked over at Susan’s powder-blue roadster with some concern. “Susan, do you think Butch wanted some ice cream as well?”
Susan shrugged her shoulders. “If she wants some ice cream, she should have had a caring wealthy father like mine to buy it for her, not some poor person who died in a tragic auto wreck! Besides, she’s fine locked in the backseat of the car.”
Dave nodded. “You did remember to leave a window open a crack, didn’t you? It’s at least ninety degrees today!”
Susan smiled brightly. “Is it?” she asked. “I wouldn’t know—every day is a bright, sunshiny day when you’re Susan Slutt, Girl Sleuth!”
THE END
* * * *
Check Out Susan Slutt’s Previous Exciting Adventures!
The Dead Cat Mystery
Puzzle in the Polluted Pond
Mystery of the Chinese Junk
Captured by Cannibals in the Wilds of Canada!
The Ghost in the Outhouse
The Clue of the Broken Bed
The Disappearance of Helen
The Secret of the Lost Lunch
The Haunted Girdle
The Santa Secret
Susan Slutt Solves The Mystery
The Secret in the Old Watch
The Elusive Transvestite
The Sinister Second Susan Slutt
Peril Over the Carport
The Case of the Borrowed Bungalow
The Unfinished Beer
The Password to Delphinium Drive
The Search for the World’s Biggest Icehole
The Dreadful Revenge
Secret of the Golden Dildo
The Mystery at Honey Suckle’s Manor
In the Shadow of the Hunchback
The Crooked Boner
The Floating Saucer Mystery
Fracas at the Fudge Factory
The Phantom of the Porkerville Public Library
The Clue in the Cracking Wall
The Secret of Red Gateless Farm
The Geekmaster’s Secret
The Haunted Hoar House
The Case of the Dyslexic Detective
The Whispering Slut
Silver Wings for Susan
The Secret Button
The Thirteenth Squirrel
Really Bad Medicine
The Clue of the Prancing Puppet
Mystery of the Double Deception
The Secret of the Forgotten Sissy
The Red Trailer Mystery
The Legend of Black Booty
Secret of the Bar Window
The Clue in the Princess Dairy
The Missing Chumps
Susan Slutt Finds the Tomb of Tutt, the Boy King
The Mystery of the Brass-Bound Hunk
Harry Potted and the Chamber Pot of Secrets
Susan Slutt, Urology Nurse
The Bitch’s Omen
* * * *
ABOUT MICHAEL G. CORNELIUS
Michael G. Cornelius is the author/editor of eleven books, including the thriller The Ascension and the Lambda Literary Award finalist Creating Man. This is his second Susan Slutt book.
ABOUT JMS BOOKS LLC
Founded in 2010, JMS Books LLC is owned and operated by author J.M. Snyder. We publish a variety of genres, including gay erotic romance, fantasy, young adult, poetry, and nonfiction. We are an invitation-only small press. Short stories and novellas are available as e-books and compiled into single-author print anthologies, while any story over 30k in length is available in both print and e-book formats. Visit us at jms-books.com for more information on our latest releases!