Hijack in Abstract (A Cherry Tucker Mystery) Read Online Free PDF

over a body riddled with taut muscles and sweet dimples.
    I needed to remind Todd that roommates wore robes. Which was hard to do, seeing as how I no longer spoke to my sort-of-ex-husband.
    “Dude,” said Cody, “put some britches on. You walk around my sister’s house like that?”
    Todd grinned and hitched his towel higher, making me slap a hand across my eyes. Todd didn’t care a stitch about modesty. Literally.
    “I’m taking a shower,” I said, hopping out of my chair. “By the way, Cody. Tell Todd I just visited the new SipNZip gas station. They only had one girl running the cash register. He should see if they need some help.”
    “He’s standing right here,” Cody snagged another donut from the bag. “You don’t get my help in the silent game.”
    “All right, baby,” said Todd. “I was fixing to fill out applications today anyway.”
    “Tell Todd that’s a good idea.” This was why I tolerated Todd as a roommate. He listened and followed orders even when I wasn’t speaking to him. That and he was awfully pretty to look at first thing in the morning.
    “By the way, sister,” said Cody, “word has gotten out about your nekkid paintings. Better expect some Come-To-Jesus-Meetings.”
    “What’s so bad about painting an Ancient Greek styled figure?” I pushed past Todd and tromped down the hall to the single bathroom. “Someone needs to teach the folks in this town about classical art.”
    “Someone is. Shawna Branson. And she’s the one showing Red’s customers snapshots of your nekkid Todd pictures.”
    “What?” I stopped and spun around. “How does she have photos of those paintings? They went to a gallery in Athens. I don’t even know who bought them.”
    “Dunno,” Cody licked powdered sugar from his fingers and grabbed another donut. “Maybe she checked out that gallery when she was up in Athens for a Bulldogs game. She is an artist, you know. Told me so herself.”
    “Calling Shawna Branson an artist is like calling Ronald McDonald the King of Steaks.” Shawna Branson and I’ve hated each other since the days when we all hung out at the Tasty Dip. When I found out she was sharing her sprinkles with my boyfriend, I wrote her number on the men’s room wall. Accompanied by an explicit drawing of Shawna’s talents. Pretty good rendering for a cement block wall and a Sharpie. Instead of throwing a hissy, she should have thanked me for making her so popular.
    “Shawna’s got a gallery in Line Creek now,” Todd said. “She fancied up her art shop.”
    “What new gallery?” I said, forgetting my silence rule.
    “Something about art,” said Todd.
    “Who cares?” said Cody. Powdered sugar dotted his beard. “I tell you what you should care about. Todd, ain’t you embarrassed for people to see you in those paintings?”
    Todd shrugged, slipped onto a kitchen chair, and reached for the donut bag.
    “Why should he feel ashamed?” I said. “The good Lord’s seen fit to give him the perfect body structure for a work of the High Renaissance. Anyone who thinks differently needs to get their mind out of the gutter.”
    “We don’t live in High Renaissance,” said Cody. “We live in Halo, Georgia, and if you see a picture of a naked dude, your mind’s going to be in the gutter.”
    “You are an idiot.”
    “That may be, but for Todd’s sake and yours, I’d do something to stop Shawna from showing the town pictures of his pecker. Everybody thinks y’all are perverts.”
    “I don’t paint nudes all the time. It was for a show with a classical theme. I do portraits of real people. With clothes on.” I waved my hand in the direction of my living room-studio with the wall full of clothed portraits. “And thanks to the friggin’ Bransons, I haven’t even done a portrait in ages. You know what she’s trying to do? Force me to stop painting or move. Run me out of my own hometown.”
    The bedroom door to my left swung open. My sister Casey yawned, stretched, and