Two Tall Tails Read Online Free PDF Page B

having a hard time following his instructions.”
    â€œYou’ve been buying cookies at Fern’s.” I tapped the baggie with a finger.
    She nodded. “I can’t make cookies at home. Everett has a nose like a bloodhound. I’ve been getting half a dozen at a time and . . . having them when I’m not home so he doesn’t find out. He’d be so disappointed in me.”
    â€œYou can’t really believe that,” I said, giving her hands another squeeze and then sitting back in my chair. “That man is bear poop crazy about you. You could go downtown right now and rob the Wells Fargo Bank and Everett would say it was their fault for having all that money inside.”
    â€œBear poop crazy?” Rebecca said, a smile pulling at her lips.
    â€œHarrison Taylor’s description, not mine,” I said. “But the words are accurate.”
    Her expression grew serious again. “I’m disappointed in myself, Kathleen.”
    â€œI get it,” I said. “I really do. I’ve never met a brownie I didn’t like.”
    â€œMerow,” Hercules said, adding his two cents to the discussion.
    I smiled. “And Hercules would not want to have to give up sardine crackers. He’s always trying to find a way to sneak a couple more as it is.” And as simple as that, I knew what had happened.
    â€œYou haven’t been eating cookies at home, so where have you been eating them?” I asked.
    Rebecca blushed again. “I’ve ducked into the co-op store several times as well as the library. I’m sorry. I promise I didn’t touch any books with my sticky fingers.”
    Internally, I breathed a sigh of relief.
    I got up and put my arms around her shoulders. “How about this weekend we try a couple of cookie recipes with less fat and sugar than what you’ve been sneaking, cookies even your doctor would approve of. I have a couple of new cookbooks at the library.”
    â€œYou are a darling, darling girl,” Rebecca said, leaning her cheek against my arm.
    I saw her eye the bag of cookies on the table. I reached over and pushed the plate of fruit closer. “It would probably be better if someone else finished those cookies.”
    Right on cue, Hercules meowed loudly. Rebecca laughed as I looked down at the cat and said, “Not you.”
    After Rebecca left, I changed for work, packed the last of the chicken and dumplings for lunch—along with Rebecca’s cookies—and headed over to Riverarts to tell Maggie what I’d concluded about Rebecca’s furtive behavior in the shop.
    â€œI’m sorry,” Maggie said. I’d found her in front of her easel, working on the sketch she’d shown me the day before.
    I looked at her, confused. “For what?”
    â€œFor getting you mixed up in this. For thinking, even for a moment, Rebecca would have taken anything. Or Susan for that matter.” There was paint on the tip of her index finger and she scraped at it with her thumbnail. “I’m not so sure that Nic could be the thief, either.”
    â€œMaybe there’s another explanation.”
    Maggie nodded. “I like Nic. Maybe it was just a tourist.” She picked at the paint on her finger again. “I don’t like this, thinking the worst of people.”
    I tucked a stray strand of hair behind one ear. “I think I’ve told you before that my mother has an expression that involves”—I made a hurry-up gesture with one hand—“getting on with things or getting off the pot.” My mother, Thea Paulson, was an actress and director, with a group of intensely devoted fans thanks to her appearances on the soap,
The Wild and The Wonderful
. She could be a little dramatic at times, but she was usually right.
    Maggie laughed. “You have told me that before and I get it.”
    â€œSo why don’t we get off the pot and go see if Nic is in his studio so