Brownie and the Dame Read Online Free PDF

coffee.”
    “Coffee stunts your growth,” Miz Adelia said immediately. “Chocolate milk or milk or water.”
    “Chocolatemilk,” Janie said quickly, all in one word. Brownie stuffed his mouth with pancake and observed that the younger girl seemed to have sized up the housekeeper as a worthy opponent and one who was too tough to go against.
    Miz Adelia whirred and buzzed with plates, spatula, pancake batter, a glass, and a half-gallon of chocolate milk.
    “Do you have your stun gun?” Janie asked politely. “They are legal in the state of Texas, but you can’t use them against law enforcement officers.”
    “No, they took it from me right away,” Brownie muttered with a quick glance at Miz Demetrice. “But I know where two dismantled muzzle loaders are.”
    “Muzzle loaders,” Janie scoffed. “You need a Glock. More firepower. Takes down bad guys like that.” She snapped her fingers.
    “Really?” Brownie asked. “I ain’t never fired a Glock. I fired Daddy’s rifle. Also, Papa Derryberry’s shotgun, and that done knocked me tushie over teakettle. Also a BB gun. And don’t tell no one, but we got to shoot Papa Derryberry’s cannon once. We put a hole the size of a bowling ball in the side of the barn. Of course, we did fire a bowling ball at the side of the barn. The cannon fires bowling balls, see?”
    “I’ve never gotten to fire a cannon,” Janie said, impressed.
    “No cannons around here,” Miz Demetrice said shortly.
    “There are some on the lawn at city hall,” Brownie said. “Pretty sure they don’t work.”
    “I’m pretty sure they poured cement down the bore,” Miz Demetrice said, “and if they didn’t, I’m going to do it right now.”
    Miz Adelia served pancakes up to Miz Demetrice and Janie, and all talking ceased for awhile.
    Brownie thought about the missing spatula. It wasn’t a great mystery. It wasn’t a murder victim or missing treasure or even something that most people would care about. But Miz Adelia seemed to be missing it terribly.
    Janie suddenly discovered that Precious was under the table and de-evolved into baby language, “Who’s a wubbie-bubbie-precious doggie?”
    Apparently Precious was a wubbie-bubbie-precious doggie because she sidled up to Janie and leaned against her legs. Miz Demetrice and Miz Adelia pretended not to notice when Janie slipped the dog a bite of pancake.
    “Two of them,” Miz Adelia muttered and retreated to her stove. “It’s like a plague of locusts. Next we’ll have a flood.”
    “Perhaps the library today,” Miz Demetrice suggested.
    “Closed. Yesterday was Palm Sunday and Miz Clack is Catholic.” Miz Adelia shrugged. “Believe she’s gave up all sweets for Lent.”
    “All sweets?” Brownie asked, aghast. “For forty whole flippin’ days? She must have the constitution of a rock. That’s what Papa Derryberry would say.”
    “Miz Clack is a determined woman,” Miz Demetrice agreed. “But what shall we do with the two of you?”
    “Auntie Wills said we could come to the station house later,” Janie said, “as long as Brownie agrees not to touch anything that fires bullets or any form thereof.”
    “Burning powder,” Brownie laughed. “Chicago lightning. Drilling. Fogging. Using a heater. Giving someone lead poisoning or squirting metal. I like that last one. Sounds dis-gust-ing.”
    “Perhaps Brownie could do with a nice tour of the jail,” Miz Demetrice said. “Tee Gearheart would love to show the children around, I’m certain.”
    “The stir, hoosegow, the big house, under glass, the jug,” Brownie chanted cheerfully.
    “Dearest, do you have a photographic memory?” Miz Demetrice asked.
    Brownie was confused. “No, but I remember a lot when I like what I bin reading.”
    * * *
    The Pegram County Sheriff’s Department was mostly calm. Mary Lou Treadwell, who was receptionist, emergency-line operator, or consummate gossip, depending on the circumstances, waved happily at Miz Demetrice as the older