Fudging the Books Read Online Free PDF

“We were good.”
    “Yes, we were.” Alison grinned. “Practice makes perfect.”
    “Or makes fun,” Ingrid grumbled under her breath. Her pale eyes glinted with malice. Apparently she didn’t like to be an unwitting patsy.
    Neither did I, truth be told. What on earth had Alison and Coco been thinking? Was I just being a fuddy-duddy?
    Dash guffawed. “Way to go, me lasses. You had us all by the throat.”
    I leaned over to Bailey and whispered, “Were you in on this?”
    “Nope. I didn’t have a clue.” Bailey eyed Alison and Coco, who were still high-fiving each other like pranking sorority sisters. “When did you two cook up this stunt?”
    Coco chuckled. “Last night over one too many cocktails. And champagne. I’m such a lightweight when it comes to that.”
    “Ahem,” Alison said. “Only you were drinking.” She yawned and quickly covered her mouth with a hand. “I wasn’t.”
    “That’s because you’re such a party animal,” Coco teased.
    “Hear me roar.” Alison clawed the air and mouthed a
growl
.
    Ingrid
tsk
ed. Her nose flared. She was clearly displeased.
    “I was the designated driver,” Alison said. “I had to get the two of us home in one piece.”
    “Alison is staying with Coco,” Bailey explained.
    “Why aren’t you at your mother’s, Alison?” I asked.
    “I stayed there the night before last, but Ingrid needed a place to sleep. Coco suggested that my mother and Ingrid would get along well. Mom loves to gab because . . .” She cocked her head. “With Dad gone.” Her father had passed away a few years ago. “Coco suggested I crash at her place. That would create a little more space at Mom’s.” Alison eyed Coco. “And I guess it provided us with extra time to cook up a little tomfoolery.” She clapped her hands. “Okay, enough of this hoo-ha. Let’s raise the sails and set to sea. Where’s the grub?” She poked Dash. “Is that enough pirate-ese for you?”
    “Not by a yardarm.” Dash cut a glance to his right. “Hey, scat, cat!” He waved his hand. Tigger appeared on Dash’s chair.
    “Tigger!” I said.
    The cat blinked to feign innocence. Had he been poking around in Dash’s photographer’s vest?
    “No, kitty. Bad kitty.” I nabbed him. “Sorry, Dash.”
    “No worries,” Dash said. “I just don’t want cat nose smudges on my contact prints.”
    Contact prints are strips of photographic images producedfrom negatives. Back at Taylor & Squibb, the location scout would put together a spread of pictures, in the form of contact sheets, so we could peruse them to determine which location to use.
    “What do you have contact prints of, you sneak?” Alison asked. “We’ve been in town less than five minutes, and Coco hasn’t cooked a thing.”
    Dash’s mouth quirked up on the right. “I’m allowed to take photos on my own, Al.”
    “Of course.” Alison explained to the rest of us, “Dash won’t go anywhere without his latest contact prints, like someone might swipe them from his room. Talk about paranoid.”
    A guarded look passed between them.
    “So what were you shooting?” Alison said.
    “The scenery. Crystal Cove is a vision. Did you see the coastline?” Dash spread his hands as he described the bay. “Deep blue with a fine tinge of green close to the shore. And the mountains? Breathtaking in their simplicity. Don’t get me started about the lighthouse. You know how I love lighthouses.”
    Alison said, “In addition to tattooed bodies, Dash loves to photograph lighthouses as well as monkeys, of all things. The San Francisco Zoo has a fine set of the latter, I’ve been told.”
    “Yep.” Dash nodded. “They’re rascals.”
    Ingrid nudged Alison and whispered loudly enough for all to hear, “I spied him taking photos of pirates.” She made it sound like that was a horrid offense.
    “Yo ho, Dash.” Alison winked. “Got a thing for the mates, do ye?”
    “Yo ho, yourself.” He grinned. “What do you think?”
    Alison