They crossed the Florida state line as Tanner Lebos stood and clinked a glass of water with a spoon again, signaling the official start of the author’s luncheon.
“Thank you once again and welcome.” He shook his head and chuckled for effect. “This already has been quite an action-packed trip to say the least. And we have one person to thank for that! The author who thought all this up, Ralph Krunkleton!”
The audience began applauding. Ralph didn’t know what the hell Tanner was talking about. He had no idea what was happening — this was the craziest damn train he’d ever been on.
Passengers began standing up, five, ten, twenty, until it was a solid standing ovation.
“Speech!” someone yelled.
“Don’t worry,” said Tanner. “The problem will be shutting him up.”
Everyone laughed.
Ralph stepped into the aisle, and the crowd quieted.
“First, I’d like to thank the best agent money can buy.”
More laughter. Tanner pointed at Ralph and smiled: Ya got me!
“Seriously. What a weird business. What a weird
More laughs.
“But I’m glad to see the mystery genre finally getting its due. For the longest time, people automatically thought there was no meaning. That’s simply not true. In my case, I’m on an internal journey, the crime plot just a pretext for me to explore the spiritual side of existence. Like when I used the urinal guy as a metaphor for Christ…”
The audience looked puzzled.
“…pure humility, serving others,” said Ralph. “And the tribulations of the people developing the first orange harvester are straight from the Twenty-third Psalm. I also borrowed some Eastern elements of cleansing and rebirth for the reunion of that women’s book club after all those lost years…”
The audience exchanged glances. Were they reading the same books? Tanner saw what was happening; he gave Ralph a slashing gesture across his throat with an index finger.
Ralph saw him and nodded.
“…Uh, and then I killed a whole bunch of people.”
“Hooray!” the audience yelled.
Tanner stood up and slapped his hands together. “What do you say we sign some books?”
The passengers quickly formed a line in the aisle.
Ralph’s little speech had been especially comforting to Serge. So he’d been right all along about the religious imagery in the book — it wasn’t just more hallucinations. “After you,” he told the BBB, who got up from the table and joined the autograph line. Then Serge stood and bumped into someone who didn’t recognize him.
“Excuse me,” said Eugene Tibbs.
The line began working its way down. The BBB finally made it to the front, and they heaped on the praise. “Your books have changed our lives,” said Teresa.
Ralph blushed. “Maybe that’s exaggerating a little.”
“No, it isn’t,” said Maria. “What a path of self-discovery!”
Teresa shook her head. “No, we went to all the bars. They were great!”
Next, a book critic from Miami.
“Oh, hi, Connie,” said Ralph, opening her book and writing. “Don’t you think you were a little hard on me in your last review?”
“It was more than fair. That one character you have who can never seem to score — he’s overstayed his welcome.”
Ralph finished signing and handed the hardcover back to her. “How’d you like me to pair you up with him in a book?”
“Ha, ha. Very funny.”
Next, Eugene Tibbs. He pumped Ralph’s hand. “I’ve been wanting to meet you for a long time. Your writing has completely changed my life.”
Ralph began signing his name. “Maybe that’s a stretch.”
“No, it’s true,” said Eugene. “I’ve patterned my entire existence after your last book. I took every one of your lessons and put them into daily practice.”
Ralph looked up, confused.
Eugene patted his chest. “I’m the urinal guy.”
“Ohhhh, that’s great! Thank you!” said Ralph, looking back down to finish his autograph. “You got my spiritual message.”
“No,” said Eugene. “I made a bundle in tips.”
Serge was next.
“Great book.”
“Thanks.”
“Especially the spiritual message.”
Ralph looked up. “What?”
“Your spiritual message.”
“You actually got it?”
“Are you kidding?” said Serge. “The imagery was so vivid I could practically reach out and touch it. Screaming souls burning in a lake of fire. Drooling beasts ripping bowels out of the righteous, then avenging angels of the Lord chopping their heads off with big swords. A horrible blackness descending over the land. People running naked in terror, falling off cliffs and onto tall spikes. Manic little horned trolls scurrying about, slashing tires and sodomizing family pets…”
Tanner gently grabbed Serge by the arm. “Would you mind stepping aside? We need to keep the line moving.”
“Oh, sure. Sorry.”
Tibbs had retaken his seat at the back table, enjoying dessert and admiring the inscription in his book. Serge sat up front, keeping tabs on Tibbs in his peripheral vision.
Shouting broke out up front. Notebooks opened.
