Hound Dog Blues Read Online Free PDF

were things she did remember about Bobby, though. He still looked like the cocky kid he’d been when she first met him, although he’d grown taller and muscled up and wasn’t the gangly boy he’d been then. But he still had a thick head of black hair with a slight curl to it, and heavy-lashed brown eyes—the gorgeous looks of a movie star and the swagger of a rock star.
    “What about it?” he said between sneezes. “It’s freakin’ dog hair, Harley.”
    “It belongs to King. There’s a lot of it here.”
    “How can you tell one clump of dog hair from another?”
    “I can’t. But Yogi can.”
    “So it’s dog hair. How bad can that be?”
    “Read the last sentence. It has Yogi ready to go on a search and destroy mission.”
    He squinted at the letter again.
    Do iT Or YoU GEt YoUR DOg BAcK A LItTLE At a TImE
    “Still sounds stupid. Just some kids playing a mean trick.”
    Harley sighed. “You’re not going to be much use to me, are you?”
    Bobby managed a watery grin. “Babe, you gotta know better. I can still be useful if you feel the need.”
    Once they’d shared a very close relationship, but that was years ago, a trial-type thing that hadn’t worked for long. They’d both enjoyed each other and moved on without recriminations or regrets when the time came.
    “What about Angel?” she asked, scooping up the dog hair and the letter and sticking it all back into the envelope.
    “She has nothing against my old friends.”
    “Maybe. Maybe not. She looks like she could be tough if she wants to be.”
    “Hey, someone in her career has to be.”
    “It’s hardly what I’d call a career, Bobby. She dances stark naked at Platinum Plus.”
    “She’s not completely naked. The law requires that she wear shoes.”
    “Oh yes, what was I thinking? And to answer your original suggestion, no, I don’t think so. We’ve both moved on.”
    “Besides,” Bobby said, obviously still focused on Angel’s choice of career, “she’s not dancing anymore.”
    “No? Is that good?”
    “Yeah. I get private lap dances now.”
    “Swell.”
    “And the couch dances—”
    “Listen Bobby, don’t say anymore. I don’t care for the unsavory images this conversation is conjuring up.”
    He grinned. She suspected a case of arrested development. Maybe he was right and she had started him on a life of sexual perversion. French kissing at fourteen was pretty erotic stuff.
    “So you haven’t heard from Mrs. Trumble yet,” she said. “I thought she’d have called the cops on Yogi again by now.”
    “That’s becoming a weekly thing. As long as he doesn’t violate the restraining order, he—oh damn. Don’t tell me.”
    “Okay, I won’t. It’s probably best neither of us knows the truth. If you haven’t heard from her yet, expect a call soon. I’ll try to head things off, but you know how Yogi is about that dog. I can’t guarantee anything.” She folded the ransom letter around the wad of dog hair and stuffed it back into the envelope. Not looking up, she said, “What can you tell me about some guy named Bruno Jett? He moved into Mrs. Sherman’s house last month.”
    “Is that a real name?”
    “As far as I know.” She looked up then, smiling brightly to hide her motivation. It was always best to be cautious with Bobby. He often forgot old friendships and went all cop on her. “I just need to know if he’s the kind of neighbor that might make trouble.”
    Or the kind who might be involved in fencing stolen jewelry. That made more sense than anything else she’d been able to think of since seeing that pile of jewels on his coffee table.
    “What are you up to, Harley?”
    “Why do you always think—”
    “Hey. This is me, Bobby, you’re talking to. I’ve known you too long not to recognize when you’re trying to pull a scam on me. What do you really want?”
    “Okay.” She leaned forward, voice lowering. “I’ve got a hot tip for you. Know all those home burglaries and jewelry thefts in East