Read Online Calamity Jayne and the Sisterhood of the Traveling Lawn Gnome by Kathleen Bacus - Free Book Online

investigation is ongoing, and the appropriate authorities will disseminate appropriate information at the appropriate time through the appropriate channels." He unfolded his arms. "And you can quote me on that."
    "You want Uncle Bo to give popo another piece of his mind?" Aunt Eunice asked.
    I shook my head.
    "Nah. We're good, Bo."
    Samuels moved to the trunk of his patrol vehicle. I followed. He opened it and removed a camera.
    Oh, right! Pictures!
    I grabbed my phone and pointed it at Harve's psychedelic mailbox and took a couple shots. I moved back a few steps to get a fuller view of the entire mailbox and post.
    Then I remembered.
    The gnome. The lawn gnome I'd seen by Harve's mail post the night before when Townsend and I had driven by.
    "Hey. Where's Harve's gnome?" I asked Samuels.
    He frowned at me over the top of his trunk lid.
    "What?"
    "Harve's lawn gnome! Where is it?"
    He slammed the trunk lid shut.
    "I've got no idea what you're talking about. As usual."
    "Harve had a lawn gnome sitting beside the mailbox post. I saw it last night. Did it get shellacked, too?"
    Samuels shook his head.
    "A shellacked gnome?"
    "What's taking you so long, Doug? Ain't got all day."
    I turned. Harve the Horse Whisperer, looking every bit the wrangler in a red plaid western shirt rolled up to his elbows, boot cut Levis with a big ol' horse shoe buckle, and a well-worn pair of boots, hoofed it down the gravel drive toward us.
    "Oh. Hey. Hi." Harve put a hand up in my direction. "How goes it, Tressa? How's your folks? Family doing okay?"
    "Good. They're good. How've you been?"
    "Can't complain. No one would listen," Harve said. "How's the little herd? They're about due for a trim, aren't they?"
    They were. But I was a little short this month. Who was I kidding? I was short every month.
    "I was meaning to get hold of you," I said. "Things have been a little hectic."
    Harve nodded. "I read about your big ol' bike ride," he said, a reference to my tandem trek across the state. "Reckon you've spent more time on a bike seat than a saddle this summer."
    Sadly true.
    "Can we get a move on, Doug?" Harve said. "I've got to get hold of the insurance guy."
    "Did you have a lot of damage?" I asked.
    He nodded. "Enough, the bastards."
    "Bastard s ? Plural?" I shot a told-you-so look at Deputy Dawg. "Can I get some pictures for the paper?"
    Harve's gaze shifted to Samuels.
    "It's still a crime scene until we release it," he said.
    I felt my lip curl. Crime scene my CSI arse. Samuels was being Deputy Dick.
    I dug around in my bag for a business card and handed it to Harve. "I'd appreciate it if you would give me a call when the county has released the scene. Oh. And, Harve, about your gnome…"
    "Good Lord. Not this again," Samuels muttered.
    Harve scratched his chin. "Gnome? What gnome?"
    "Trust me, Dawson," Samuels said. "And run!"
    I ignored the deputy.
    "Your lawn gnome is gone, Harve. The one by the mailbox."
    He shook his head.
    "Ain't never had me no gnome—lawn or otherwise. You sure it was my mailbox?"
    "Yes, I'm sure. I saw it with my own eyes last night. It was sitting right there." I pointed to the mailbox post. "At the time I thought it was odd because I'd never seen it there before."
    Harve did more scratching.
    "What did this gnome look like?"
    Now I was the one doing the chin scratching.
    "Well, it was just getting dark, and I really didn't see it for all that long, but it had a white beard and had like a blue shirt with some kind of tan overall. Oh, and a pointy blue hat. I remember that."
    "All gnomes have pointy hats," Samuels said with a smirk in my direction.
    "Doesn't ring a bell," Harve said.
    "Well it rings my bell!" I'd forgotten all about Aunt Eunice until she inserted herself in the middle of our little circle of inquiry. "That's Abigail Winegardner's gnome!" Aunt Eunice declared.
    "Who are you?" Harve asked.
    "Beauregard Blackford at your service," Aunt Eunice said. "And the gnome you're chewing the fat about belongs to