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

rubbed her eyes. “What’s all the hollering? I don’t want to be up this early.” Her eyes took in our scene and fixed on Todd. “Well, good morning sunshine. I can get used to this roommate thing.”
    “Hey Casey,” said Todd. “The town thinks Cherry and I are perverts because of those paintings Cherry did of me.”
    Casey pushed her long, brown hair over a shoulder and leaned into the bedroom doorway, her eyes roving over Todd’s fine musculature. “Told you those paintings were a bad idea.”
    “That bad idea paid the taxes on this house for the year,” I said. “I don’t know the patron, but they bought the collection for a good price.”
    She straightened from her languorous pose. “If I were you, I’d find the buyer. See if they want any more. I’ll pose naked for a cut.”
    “That’s disgusting,” I said. “You’re making my art sound as warped as the rest of the town.”
    She shrugged and stepped out of the doorway. “Don’t see what the difference is between me and Todd.”
    “Todd is my muse,” I said.
    She and Cody exchanged a look before they began laughing hysterically.
    “What? What’s so funny?”
    “Muse,” she gasped. “Todd’s your muse.”
    “Yes,” I turned my back on Cody and Todd to give Casey a full-on stink eye. “Many great artists had a muse. Manet. Picasso. Andrew Wyeth. Stieglitz with Georgia O’Keefe, no less. Vermeer. The list goes on.” I ticked them off on my fingers.
    “I bet them painters were all guys and they were doing the chicks they were painting,” said Cody.
    I whirled around. “That is so sexist.”
    “Am I wrong?” asked Cody.
    I screwed my mouth and tightened the grip on my crossed arms.
    “Thought so,” said Cody. “Todd, you better hope Cherry gets famous. You can go down in history as the first dude muse for a chick painter. And then turn in your man card.”
    Todd grinned. “I think it’s kind of sexy.”
    I dropped my arms and kicked the shoe molding on the wall. A fine sprinkling of plaster dusted my boot. “Dammit. This means I’ve got to go to Line Creek and deal with Shawna.”
    “Hey, maybe she’ll know who bought your paintings,” said Casey, turning her back on me. She walked into the bathroom and closed the door. A moment later I heard the shower running.
    I gave an exasperated sigh and glanced over my shoulder at Cody and Todd. The donut bag had been crumpled and tossed onto the middle of the table. Powdered sugar and frosting coated the wooden tabletop.
    “Got any coffee?” said Cody.
    “There are entirely too many people living in this house,” I said. “If Shawna doesn’t run me out of town, y’all will.”
     

Four

    Later that morning, I parked my little, yellow Datsun pickup in front of the old courthouse square. I gave the girl a pat on the steering wheel for making it the fifteen miles to Line Creek from Halo. When your vehicle is almost thirty years old, she needs that kind of encouragement. Lucky for me, my brother teethed on a crescent wrench. He lacked skills in most other areas, but if you have an engine, Cody is your man.
    One of the benefits of Forks County was the loyalty of small town patrons to their mom and pop shops. Line Creek’s town square still carried boutiques that allowed women one-of-a-kind dress options and children’s clothes featuring smocking and embroidery. The square also had a fancified Southern restaurant for posh people who still liked to eat macaroni and cheese. And a Chinese restaurant run by a family who had lived in Line Creek for fifty years and learned to serve sides of mac and cheese with their lo mein.
    I crossed the street and walked down the sidewalk, enjoying the cloudless morning sunshine, which would be scorching by afternoon. Passing a jewelry store, I paused to admire some unique pieces in the window, then stopped in front of Shawna’s shop.
    Her gallery had once been a stationary store specializing in monograms and garden party invitations, perfect for