Splintered Bones Read Online Free PDF Page A
Author: Carolyn Haines
they certainly make it easier for you to get groceries to the house. Lookin' at that waistline, I don't have a doubt what a top priority food is around here."
I got up and went to the Pentium III I'd recently bought to help with my detective business. I was a long way from competent, but I'd discovered some fascinating information by surfing the Web. The little mailbox icon was blinking.
"That Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan found love by writing E-mail to each other." Jitty was hovering over my shoulder. "You've got mail!"
"I'm not Meg Ryan, and this isn't a movie."
"Obviously. When her hair is tousled, it looks good." Jitty sniffed. "I was hoping when you teamed up with Tinkie that she'd have some influence on your appearance."
I turned around. "Why are you wearing my clothes?"
"I thought maybe if you could see how bad you look in these things you'd go buy you a sharp-looking joggin' suit." She pointed to the screen. "Check that message."
"Jitty, think about this. If I found love on the Internet, there would be no issue. Cybersex is completely without congress." I was more than a little proud of that statement.
"Honey, normal folk use it to say howdy and then set up a time and a place to meet. Of course, you'd have to try to turn it into a congress." She pointed to the screen. "You've got mail."
Puzzled by her sudden interest in "demon technology," as she called it, I moved the mouse to check my E-mail. In a moment a message from Cece Dee Falcon, society editor for The Zinnia Dispatch, popped up on the screen. Cece had a "juicy assignment" for me. I sometimes picked up freelance work writing for Cece at the newspaper. Entree as a reporter, I'd quickly learned, was another invaluable detecting tool. I read the message. Cece wanted me to meet her for coffee.
"Now how does this E-mail thing work?" Jitty asked.
"I don't actually know. All that matters is that it does work." She was hovering over me. Although she looked as real as any of my other annoying friends, her touch was only a whisper, a draft passing through a room.
"There're dating clubs on computer. Big story on the news."
I turned slowly and faced her, a sudden reality dawning. "I'm not that desperate."
"Liar," she answered calmly.
"Do you know how many maniacs are out there? And what's to keep them from lying? I mean just because they say they're six four, there's no way to check it. They're all probably five two and live with their mothers."
"Who cares if they carry a step stool, as long as they're in working order," Jitty said. "This is a new millennium, Sarah Booth. This isn't about marriage or 'happy ever after.' This is about global opportunities. Show me how to work that thing."
I turned the computer off. "Never. I'm going to see what Cece wants," I said, getting up. "I'll tell Kip I'm leaving, but you keep an eye on her." That should keep Jitty too busy to meddle in my affairs.
Cece was waiting for me in Millie's Cafe, along with my partner, Tinkie. They were both blond, beautiful, smart, and born into old Delta families. There the similarities ended. Tinkie was everything a Daddy's Girl aspired to be, with the unfortunate--to her male family members--addition that money and security weren't enough to fill her days. Hence her association with me.
Cece, on the other hand, should have been a candidate for the Buddy Clubbers. A trip to
Sweden
and extensive hormone therapy had exhausted the Falcon inheritance and turned Cecil into Cece. She was one of my few wealthy friends who had actually bought a measure of happiness with her legacy. For most of them, money had become a sort of prison. One with very nicely furnished cells, I might add.
"Hello, dahling," Cece said, brushing air kisses on each of my cheeks. "You look marvelous, Sarah Booth. You've lost a pound or two, haven't you? Those love handles aren't quite so prominent."
Cece had the lean hips of a male and never failed to rub it in. "Men like something to hang on to," I said, taking a seat and
I got up and went to the Pentium III I'd recently bought to help with my detective business. I was a long way from competent, but I'd discovered some fascinating information by surfing the Web. The little mailbox icon was blinking.
"That Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan found love by writing E-mail to each other." Jitty was hovering over my shoulder. "You've got mail!"
"I'm not Meg Ryan, and this isn't a movie."
"Obviously. When her hair is tousled, it looks good." Jitty sniffed. "I was hoping when you teamed up with Tinkie that she'd have some influence on your appearance."
I turned around. "Why are you wearing my clothes?"
"I thought maybe if you could see how bad you look in these things you'd go buy you a sharp-looking joggin' suit." She pointed to the screen. "Check that message."
"Jitty, think about this. If I found love on the Internet, there would be no issue. Cybersex is completely without congress." I was more than a little proud of that statement.
"Honey, normal folk use it to say howdy and then set up a time and a place to meet. Of course, you'd have to try to turn it into a congress." She pointed to the screen. "You've got mail."
Puzzled by her sudden interest in "demon technology," as she called it, I moved the mouse to check my E-mail. In a moment a message from Cece Dee Falcon, society editor for The Zinnia Dispatch, popped up on the screen. Cece had a "juicy assignment" for me. I sometimes picked up freelance work writing for Cece at the newspaper. Entree as a reporter, I'd quickly learned, was another invaluable detecting tool. I read the message. Cece wanted me to meet her for coffee.
"Now how does this E-mail thing work?" Jitty asked.
"I don't actually know. All that matters is that it does work." She was hovering over me. Although she looked as real as any of my other annoying friends, her touch was only a whisper, a draft passing through a room.
"There're dating clubs on computer. Big story on the news."
I turned slowly and faced her, a sudden reality dawning. "I'm not that desperate."
"Liar," she answered calmly.
"Do you know how many maniacs are out there? And what's to keep them from lying? I mean just because they say they're six four, there's no way to check it. They're all probably five two and live with their mothers."
"Who cares if they carry a step stool, as long as they're in working order," Jitty said. "This is a new millennium, Sarah Booth. This isn't about marriage or 'happy ever after.' This is about global opportunities. Show me how to work that thing."
I turned the computer off. "Never. I'm going to see what Cece wants," I said, getting up. "I'll tell Kip I'm leaving, but you keep an eye on her." That should keep Jitty too busy to meddle in my affairs.
Cece was waiting for me in Millie's Cafe, along with my partner, Tinkie. They were both blond, beautiful, smart, and born into old Delta families. There the similarities ended. Tinkie was everything a Daddy's Girl aspired to be, with the unfortunate--to her male family members--addition that money and security weren't enough to fill her days. Hence her association with me.
Cece, on the other hand, should have been a candidate for the Buddy Clubbers. A trip to
Sweden
and extensive hormone therapy had exhausted the Falcon inheritance and turned Cecil into Cece. She was one of my few wealthy friends who had actually bought a measure of happiness with her legacy. For most of them, money had become a sort of prison. One with very nicely furnished cells, I might add.
"Hello, dahling," Cece said, brushing air kisses on each of my cheeks. "You look marvelous, Sarah Booth. You've lost a pound or two, haven't you? Those love handles aren't quite so prominent."
Cece had the lean hips of a male and never failed to rub it in. "Men like something to hang on to," I said, taking a seat and
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