Read Online Let Sleeping Dogs Lie by Suzann Ledbetter - Free Book Online
Authors: Suzann Ledbetter
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5
"O h, this is so exciting," chirped Ms. Pearl. The confirmed spinsterher word, not Jack'sfoisted a pink, doll-sized overnight case on him. "My little girl is going to be a spy. "
Actually her loaner Maltese was a four-legged shill. It wasn't Jack's fault that his across-the-breezeway neighbor heard "undercover sting operation" and thought James Bond with fur.
Four hours' sleep had converted last night's genius pretext into a blue-ribbon stupid idea. It would have worked, sure. Then the minute the connection was broken, pissed-off burglary victims would confront the neighbors, demanding to know which one initiated the barking-dog complaint.
And who wanted to waste a day chained to a desk making phone calls? Especially a private investigator who spends more time on the phone than a phone-sex operator.
Jack forced a smile. Not easy with a yappy eight-pound dog in the crook of his arm, two fingers hooked on the handle of its luggage and a leash dervishing at his crotch like a noose in need of exorcism.
The stuffed Maltese toy he'd given his niece for Christmas one year had come with a key in its butt that when wound, played "How Much Is That Doggie in the Window?" Instead of a music box, the real deal squirmed and lunged, as though it had springs where its bones were supposed to be.
"I really appreciate this, Ms. Pearl." Which would be true as soon as Jack dumped her wacko dog at TLC, the city's most expensive boarding kennel. "But remember our, uh, arrangement has to stay between us."
Ms. Pearl's penciled eyebrows lofted, enhancing an already eerie resemblance to Olive Oyl. "It will, Officer McPhee. I won't tell a soul."
He'd never told her he was a cop and hadn't been for many a year. Busting a gangbanger peddling Ecstasy to a middle-schooler in the complex's parking lot was strictly a citizen's arrest. Attempts to correct an assumption that Jack was a plainclothes narc were one of those doth-protest-too-much things. Between his reclusiveness and the weird hours he kept, tenants could just as easily suspect he was a vampire.
Ms. Pearl made oochie-coo noises and crouched down to say goodbye to the Maltese. "I don't know what I'll do without my Sweetie Pie Snug 'Ems. I surely don't." She kissed the dog's button nose. "But I packed your favorite toys and a special treat, so we'll have to be brave girls, won't we? Oh, yes, we will."
Thankfully, Jack's eyes unstuck from their backward roll before he reached the flight of plank stairs leading down to ground level. He loved dogs. His best buds when he was a kid were a brainless Irish setter and a three-legged beagle.
"No offense," he told the wriggling furball playing peekaboo with his tie. "But just because the AKC says you're a dog, you're too short to drink out of the toilet and you couldn't catch a Frisbee with a net."
The parking area behind his building was as empty as it had been full when he'd bailed out of his car around three-thirty. In daylight, the Taurus looked a hundred miles closer to the rear entrance than it had last night. It only seemed farther away with a panting Maltese zigzagging in front of him like a duck in a shooting gallery.
The minisuitcase thumped on the rear floorboard where it would stay until its return to Ms. Pearlminus the treats. Leave them inside and she'd know the luggage hadn't made the whole trip.
He'd promised to strap down the dog in her safety harness for the ride, too. It wouldn't have joined the suitcase on the floorboard if the white blur now bouncing all over the friggin' car responded to "Sit." Or "Heel." Or "For God's sake, stay, you psycho little son of a bitch!"
Bellowing "Hell with it," Jack snagged the leash on the fly and wrapped it around his leg. "Gotcha."
Sweetie Pie Snug 'Ems shot him an "oh, yeah?" glare. Her glittery pink toenails dug into the upholstery. She tugged
5
"O h, this is so exciting," chirped Ms. Pearl. The confirmed spinsterher word, not Jack'sfoisted a pink, doll-sized overnight case on him. "My little girl is going to be a spy. "
Actually her loaner Maltese was a four-legged shill. It wasn't Jack's fault that his across-the-breezeway neighbor heard "undercover sting operation" and thought James Bond with fur.
Four hours' sleep had converted last night's genius pretext into a blue-ribbon stupid idea. It would have worked, sure. Then the minute the connection was broken, pissed-off burglary victims would confront the neighbors, demanding to know which one initiated the barking-dog complaint.
And who wanted to waste a day chained to a desk making phone calls? Especially a private investigator who spends more time on the phone than a phone-sex operator.
Jack forced a smile. Not easy with a yappy eight-pound dog in the crook of his arm, two fingers hooked on the handle of its luggage and a leash dervishing at his crotch like a noose in need of exorcism.
The stuffed Maltese toy he'd given his niece for Christmas one year had come with a key in its butt that when wound, played "How Much Is That Doggie in the Window?" Instead of a music box, the real deal squirmed and lunged, as though it had springs where its bones were supposed to be.
"I really appreciate this, Ms. Pearl." Which would be true as soon as Jack dumped her wacko dog at TLC, the city's most expensive boarding kennel. "But remember our, uh, arrangement has to stay between us."
Ms. Pearl's penciled eyebrows lofted, enhancing an already eerie resemblance to Olive Oyl. "It will, Officer McPhee. I won't tell a soul."
He'd never told her he was a cop and hadn't been for many a year. Busting a gangbanger peddling Ecstasy to a middle-schooler in the complex's parking lot was strictly a citizen's arrest. Attempts to correct an assumption that Jack was a plainclothes narc were one of those doth-protest-too-much things. Between his reclusiveness and the weird hours he kept, tenants could just as easily suspect he was a vampire.
Ms. Pearl made oochie-coo noises and crouched down to say goodbye to the Maltese. "I don't know what I'll do without my Sweetie Pie Snug 'Ems. I surely don't." She kissed the dog's button nose. "But I packed your favorite toys and a special treat, so we'll have to be brave girls, won't we? Oh, yes, we will."
Thankfully, Jack's eyes unstuck from their backward roll before he reached the flight of plank stairs leading down to ground level. He loved dogs. His best buds when he was a kid were a brainless Irish setter and a three-legged beagle.
"No offense," he told the wriggling furball playing peekaboo with his tie. "But just because the AKC says you're a dog, you're too short to drink out of the toilet and you couldn't catch a Frisbee with a net."
The parking area behind his building was as empty as it had been full when he'd bailed out of his car around three-thirty. In daylight, the Taurus looked a hundred miles closer to the rear entrance than it had last night. It only seemed farther away with a panting Maltese zigzagging in front of him like a duck in a shooting gallery.
The minisuitcase thumped on the rear floorboard where it would stay until its return to Ms. Pearlminus the treats. Leave them inside and she'd know the luggage hadn't made the whole trip.
He'd promised to strap down the dog in her safety harness for the ride, too. It wouldn't have joined the suitcase on the floorboard if the white blur now bouncing all over the friggin' car responded to "Sit." Or "Heel." Or "For God's sake, stay, you psycho little son of a bitch!"
Bellowing "Hell with it," Jack snagged the leash on the fly and wrapped it around his leg. "Gotcha."
Sweetie Pie Snug 'Ems shot him an "oh, yeah?" glare. Her glittery pink toenails dug into the upholstery. She tugged
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