Cat Burglar in Training Read Online Free PDF Page A

taking my gaze off the mutt, I eased the pack from my back and fumbled with the zip. My hand closed around a doctored cheeseburger, and I let it fall to the ground at my feet. The dog sniffed the burger and woofed the treat down in two bites before staring fixedly at me. It growled. Father had assured me pills would do the trick without hurting whatever ingested them. I hoped he knew what he was talking about. No sooner had the thought crossed my mind than the creature swayed.
    I bolted. The dog gave a feral growl and sprang. Fabric ripped. My steps faltered. For an instant I panicked, but suddenly the dog let go. Without looking back, I raced to the back of the house, my legs pumping like a hundred-meter sprinter at the Olympic Games. I scampered up a sturdy vine and only then glanced back, my chest burning for air.
    The dog lay still on the ground. I turned to survey the rip in my leggings and shifted uneasily. My backside smarted like the devil.
    Smooth as silk.
    Huh, Grace had read someone else’s cards, not mine.
    I scaled the wall in no time, stubbornly ignoring the pain in my arse. A ledge, a few inches wide, provided a place for me to collect myself. With a deep breath, I pulled a spoon and a jar of smooth peanut butter from my pack and plastered a thick layer on the window pane. Next, I retrieved a tube of cardboard cut to size—well, a fairly accurate guesstimate—and carefully pressed the cardboard to the peanut butter. A sharp tap with my hammer cracked the glass, but the sound was minimal. I replaced my tools in my pack, placed the glass-covered cardboard aside and reached through to open the lock. My entry via the nursery room window was clean and professional.
    Lucky for me the nursery was empty of everything save the lingering scent of lemon furniture polish. After hiding the cardboard inside a built-in wardrobe, I exited the nursery, closed the door and crept down to the next floor. At this stage luck deserted me again.
    A footfall.
    I froze on the second-floor landing, alarm hammering through me. There was someone at home. Laughter—both male and female—came from a bedroom. Had the husband returned? Why were they there with the lights off?
    Duh! Stupid question. It was obvious why the room was dark.
    Should I abort my mission or risk discovery?
    As I hesitated, a light flicked on. I quickly ducked into the nearest room, my pulse racing. The stairs creaked under the weight of footsteps as the couple passed me and walked down to the ground floor. The front door opened.
    “Darling, tomorrow night?” the man asked.
    “Yes. James isn’t back until Friday,” Perdita replied.
    Kissing followed—loud enough to make me roll my eyes. After what seemed like ages, the door shut again and footsteps approached me, ascending the stairs.
    What the hell was I going to do now? Hit her over the head? Maybe snatch the jewels and run. I mean, she was fooling around—she deserved everything coming.
    I finally rejected my ideas as stupid. A girl needed some scruples. Physical violence was one of mine. Every muscle in my body taut with tension, I peeked through a crack in the door. Perdita strolled past me, humming softly. My breath caught when I saw she was wearing her ruby necklace. I watched until she disappeared into what I assumed was her bedroom.
    Before I could settle into a comfortable position and figure out what to do, the front door opened again. Bloody hell, the place was like Paddington Station at rush hour. I hunkered down and waited to see what developed.
    Stealthy footsteps padded up the stairs, then headed to the room where Perdita had entertained her lover. Surely this wasn’t another one?
    “What do you want?” Perdita demanded.
    I peered through the crack but couldn’t see a damn thing. What now?
    A scream froze me to the spot.
    A gunshot.
    I jerked back instinctively at the crack of sound. Footsteps thudded past my hiding place in rapid retreat, too quickly for me to catch a glimpse. The front