Doggone Dead Read Online Free PDF Page A

Rocky, I would have to get to work. “Well, I need to get back to town so I’ll just take my pictures.” I turned and took Lina Bonnet’s hand in mine. It was cool on my skin. Not what I expected in the record-breaking heat of late June. “Thanks for all your help and information.”
    “Sure.” She squeezed my hand. “Really hoping for a good write-up for our business. I do the books, and sometimes even I’m not sure how we make it, but we always seem to get by.”
    I stepped over to the field surrounding the house and outbuildings and took a picture as I felt the sun beat down on the back of my neck. The field held rows and rows of green striped melons, their various rounded shapes poking out from the tangle of vines. The property was edged by a thick forest of trees in the full bloom of summer. The picture would be beautiful in the online edition of the newspaper. It would have all of the beauty, and without any of the heat. That’s the way to enjoy Texas.
    I stepped over to get a shot of the farm from a different angle. The colors were so pretty and beautifully highlighted the old farmhouse. I walked to the side of the lot with the two sheds lining up like soldiers in my pictures. More people were walking around now, either buying watermelons at the stand or going out to the field to pick just the right one. Coop Bonnet had gone back to whatever he had been doing in the shed, and my father had gotten away from Clay Bonnet. If I had to interpret my father’s actions, he was definitely snooping around Coop Bonnet’s car. What was he looking for, the blood of his last victim? I snapped another picture of the people milling around, hoping it would lead to more sales for the farm.
    “Excuse me? Aren’t you Mrs. Livingston, the Happy Hinter?”
    Behind me a woman stood with her left shoulder slightly stooped from an oversized red leather purse. Was she planning to secretly pop a watermelon in that thing? Had she already? Next to her was a small girl decked out in a pink satin dress with black sequined seeds sewn to the bodice and a green taffeta ruffle. Although her head moved as she took a pose, her hair frozen in a massive heap of Final Net hair spray did not.
    “Well, isn’t this a surprise?” the woman said. “I’m Amanda Harris, and Haley and I were just out getting some glamour shots for the pageant.”
    Another pageant parent. Funny how I kept running into them.
    “Yes, it is quite a surprise,” I replied.
    “This is just wonderful. As long as we have you here, let me get your opinion on the talent Haley will be performing at the Miss Watermelon Pageant.” The woman leaned down and whispered in her daughter’s ear. The little girl broke her pose and then cleared her throat. She smiled, showing a row of fake teeth fitted over her own childhood toothy gaps.
    “And now a number from old Broadway,” she lisped – and then proceeded to belt out “Thummertime” from Porgy and Bess. She was heading into the second verse when I stopped her.
    “Uh ... Haley. That is just wonderful, and I’m sure it will be great for the pageant.”
    “You think so?” said her mother. “We were wondering if maybe we needed to put some dance moves in, you know like this?” She put her bag down on the ground and began to do some jazz hands, stepping side to side.
    “I really couldn’t say,” I said. “I’m sure you’ll come up with something great. So sorry, I didn’t realize what time it is. Have to get going. So nice to meet you.”
    “Nice meeting you and getting this special time together.”
    “Yes, well I’m actually out here taking pictures for the paper for a spread we’re doing on the watermelon festival, so I’d better get back to work.”
    “Pictures?” She pushed her little girl in front of her, the red purse now a backdrop for precious Haley. “Well, then take one of my Haley so that the people in the town know we’re out here supporting the local watermelon economy.”
    “Oh, no need