Plain Jane Read Online Free PDF

zip.”
    Trixie cackled with glee.
    â€œOne more thing, Trixie,” Jane interrupted. “Do you know a Brian Ramsey? He owns a trucking company outside of town. I was wondering if he’s local or if he moved here from somewhere else. I’d like to find out a little about his wife. Don’t ask me why I want to know, okay? Don’t you have a snoop file or one of those I Spy files or something you use when you’re doing your writing and you want to check up on people?”
    â€œI do,” Trixie said smartly. “If you have a social, an address, anything that will help in the search, give it to me and I’ll see what I can do. You know you can trust me to keep quiet.”
    â€œBy the way, how’s the new book going? What number is this again?”
    â€œOne hundred four and going great. Blood and guts everywhere. Fred and I were having a serious discussion when you called. I want the blood to river and he wants it to trickle. When you slice someone in two with a chain saw, the blood will river, not trickle. Right?”
    The visual image made Jane grimace. “I’m not going down that road, Trixie.”
    â€œNot to change the subject,” Trixie said, “but what are you planning on wearing tonight?”
    â€œTonight? Why, actually—Absolutely nothing!” Jane teased. “I’ll see you both tomorrow and give you a full rundown on what happens tonight.” As she was hanging up the phone, she heard Trixie say to Fred, “Did you hear that, Fred, she’s wearing absolutely nothing !”
    â€œI heard! I heard!” Fred said before the phone went dead.
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    Jane’s face broke into a warm smile when she opened her front door. Olive bounded down the steps. Stepping into the foyer, Jane tossed her gear in the general direction of the antique bench before she hunkered down to tussle with the springer spaniel. “I know you’re happy to see me,” she said in her baby-talk voice. “I’m happy to see you, too. Did you have a good day? I had a good day and a bad day. Not really bad,” she said, letting the dog lick her face. “Hey, guess what? We’re having company for supper. The guy of my youthful dreams is bringing Chinese. He’s got a cat named Noodle, whatya think of that?”
    â€œWoof.”
    â€œThat’s what I thought,” Jane said, staring past the dog to her parlor. Thanks to her father, she’d learned to love carpentry and had done most of the wood restoration herself. The fireplace mantel, original to the house, had been one of her biggest challenges, but she’d patched it lovingly and repainted it. At some point in time the former occupants had removed all the crown molding and stored the pieces in the attic. It had taken Jane forever to haul it down, lay it out on the floor, and put it back together. Copies of pictures owned by the local historical society had revealed that there had been bookshelves on either side of the fireplace. Opening up the walls and finding them still there, intact, had been like finding a hidden treasure. Now, the shelves held all one hundred and three T. F. Dingle books, Trixie and Fred’s pen name. Their spines were unbroken, the brilliant, grisly covers as shiny as the day she’d arranged them.
    A stuffed Taco Bell Chihuahua in her mouth, Olive stood looking at Jane, her eager expression saying she wanted to play.
    Feeling guilty that she’d given Olive short shrift, she got down on her hands and knees and took the back side of the stuffed toy between her teeth and played tug-of-war. Jane was winning when the doorbell rang. Thinking it was the paperboy, she called, “Come in,” between her teeth.
    â€œNow, this is a Kodak moment if I ever saw one,” Mike said from the doorway.
    Olive dropped her end of the toy to bark at the intruder, leaving Jane holding the other end. Jane’s blood pounded, and she could feel her