Hoodwinked Read Online Free PDF

before he tried to make a meal of it.
    â€œVicious bird,” she muttered, grinning. “Biting the hand that feeds you. How about some apple?”
    â€œAp-ple,” he agreed. “Ap-ple.”
    She put down her purse, kicked off her shoes with a sigh, and shared a tart, crunchy Granny Smith with him. “Bagwell, the days get longer and longer. I think I need a change of scenery.”
    â€œGood ap-ple,” he murmured, preoccupied with the slice of fruit he was holding in his claw.
    â€œYou’ve got a one-track mind,” she said. She got up and looked in the cupboard to see what there was to eat. “Well, it’s the grocery store for me tomorrow, old fellow,” she said, grimacing when she saw the meager supply of food. “I guess it’s cereal or sandwiches.”
    She changed into jeans and a sweatshirt while he was still working on his apple. Then she brewed a pot of coffee, got out bologna and mustard and made herself a sandwich, and turned on the television, searching in vain for anything except local or national news. In desperation, she slid a science-fiction movie into the VCR her parents had given her two Christmases ago and sat back to watch it.
    Unfortunately Bagwell liked the sound of high-tech fantasy weapons and could mimic them very well. But he didn’t stop when they did. He continued through the dialogue, shrieking and firing and booming.
    â€œI hate parrots,” Maureen told him as she switched off the movie in self-defense.
    He flew down from his perch and walked over to the sofa, pulling himself up by his beak to stand onthe arm of the rickety, worn piece of secondhand furniture.
    â€œI’m pretty,” he said.
    She scratched his head lovingly. “Yes, you are, precious,” she agreed with a smile. She leaned back and he climbed onto her jeans-clad leg. Seconds later, he was fluffed up with one foot drawn under him, half-asleep.
    â€œHey, now, no dozing,” she teased. She got him on her forearm and carried him to his cage. He dozed on while she cleaned it and put in fresh water. Then she put him up for the night, covering him with a thin sheet.
    He was a lot of company, but he had to have at least twelve hours of sleep or he got grumpy. So she spent most of her evenings watching television alone.
    She curled up with a new book on Tudor history—a work about Henry VIII—and sipped black coffee. The man next door wasn’t far from her thoughts. He irritated her more than anyone she knew, and his frankly insulting attitude in the canteen had made her angry. She’d never realized how uncomfortable it could be to have an enemy. He was her first. But she didn’t know why he disliked her, and that made things worse.
    She’d never mixed well. During her childhood, she’d been pretty much a loner and a misfit. Her father had been a college professor, a brilliant man who taught physics, and her equally brilliant mother had taught English at the high-school level. They’d enlarged on her school curriculum with things for her to study at home, and her well-rounded education had set her apart from her friends, who didn’t understand why Maureen had her nose stuck in a book all thetime. She loved to read, and she liked learning new things. But her love life suffered, along with her social life. Boys had avoided her in school, just as grown men avoided her now. Her pet interests were Plantagenet and Tudor England, and ornithology; and her idea of the perfect date was a trip to a museum. Sex was something other people had, and she didn’t know a birth-control pill from an aspirin. So, she told herself, perhaps it was just as well that she wasn’t a raving beauty and fascinating to men; she didn’t really have the right personality to be a swinger.
    A light tapping on the wall next door caught her attention. It seemed to be coming from her bedroom. She put down her book and walked into the room, but then the