Read Online A Recipe for Robbery by Marybeth Kelsey - Free Book Online Page A

with Granny Goose about who could’ve done what around Hogjaw, because my question had set her off. She started talking about her animals, and nothing short of a hurricane could’ve stopped her. We learned that Olive the owl had an injured wing; Charlie the gator had been run over by a car (“He’s being transferred to a better-equipped reptile rescue in a couple of days,” she said); Hogjaw had been found on the road with a cracked shell; and Pelly’s feet had been injured when he’d landed on a piling with nails sticking out of it. “Poor little guy,” Granny Goose said. “The webbing on both feet had been torn to pieces.”
    The more she talked about rescuing gators and owls and pelicans, the more I knew we were doing theright thing by helping her. But unless we could somehow get the egg out of the pen before Mrs. Grimstone sent the cops over, none of what we were doing would make one bit of difference.
    I was mulling over the best way to accomplish that, when Granny Goose stuck four fingers between her teeth and let out an earsplitting whistle. “Didn’t mean to startle you, kids. That’s how I let Pickles know the chow’s on. She’ll pitch a fit if I don’t include her.”
    Sure enough, it wasn’t but a couple of seconds before Pickles came bopping toward the table. Her diaper had already worked itself loose, and she had a silver spoon clamped between her bill.
    â€œHey, kids,” Granny Goose said. “My hands are full. Can somebody nab Pickles, please? She’s got my serving spoon.”
    Gus darted across the room. “I’ll get her.” Pickles dodged him, heading for the hallway. Gus lunged. He grabbed the spoon and gave it to Granny Goose.
    She snorted. “Honestly, what that goose won’t go after. Caught her with my watch yesterday. Now sit down, kids. It’s snack time.”
    By now my anxiety over the egg was rumbling around my stomach like a giant burp. I tapped my foot a million miles an hour as Gus poured us each a tall glass of Papaya Surprise. I motioned to Margaret to sit next to me. I had to tell her, even if it meant whispering in front of—
    â€œHere ya go, kid.” Granny Goose handed me a baking dish filled with something so heavy and green and mossy-looking I thought for sure it was Astroturf. “It’s a caramelized broccoli bake,” she said. “My second choice for the cook-off contest. I’d like you to rate it against the cucumbers.”

Chapter 14
Not So Clueless Anymore
    I stared in horror at Granny Goose’s newest green concoction.
    Why me? How come she kept picking me to be her taste tester? Did I look like some kind of vegetable guru or something?
    â€œSmells good, huh? Here. I’ll cut you a nibble.” She leaned over my shoulder with a bread-and-butter knife, chewing her lip and grunting as she struggled to slice the broccoli bake. She sawed away, and when she finally managed to cut a piece, she dropped it on my plate. It landed with a thud.
    â€œIt might’ve settled a little in the fridge, but that shouldn’t affect the flavor.”
    I stabbed it with my fork, pretending to look interested, but wishing with all my might Gus would take it off my hands. He’d already popped a couple of sardines in his mouth like they were M&M’s, and he’d been raving about the goat cheese, so why not the broccoli bake?
    Gus gaped from across the table, but it wasn’t the food on my plate that seemed to interest him. He was watching Pickles. She’d just climbed a miniature footstool Granny Goose had pushed up to the table. She settled herself between Margaret and me and pecked at a spoon.
    â€œHold your horses,” Granny Goose said to Pickles. “I’ll get to your plate in a second.”
    â€œUh, Mrs. Unger, does Pickles always eat with you?” Gus said.
    â€œYou betcha. Never misses a meal. She’s a vegetable