Read Online Shepherd's Crook by Sheila Webster Boneham - Free Book Online Page A

barked for hours on end, or the little terrierpoo on the next street who ran loose several times a week and used the neighbors’ yards as his personal relief stations.
    Tom patted my hand and said, “We’ll figure out a solution if we need to.”
    Goldie sat up straight and said, “You know, it could be Phil Martin. He said he was in insurance, and I think the councilman works for Farm Bureau or State Farm or one of those. I didn’t recognize him in the shades and baseball cap, but as I think about it …” She paused, and her mouth twisted into a wicked little smile. “He’s not going to be very happy here,” said Goldie. “He’s surrounded.”
    She was right. The Washingtons two doors down had three vocal little spaniel mixes named Flo, Mary, and Ross because, as Bill Washington liked to say, “they’re the supremes!” Mr. Hostetler across the street had Paco the Chihuahua, and the Machados behind Martin’s house had an enormous Golden Retriever x Newfoundland cross named ChaCha. There were cats in the neighborhood, too, but most were indoor pets who stared out their windows at the dogs and people walking by.
    â€œI thought he had one of those beautiful old mansions on Old Mill Road?”
    â€œHis wife does. I mean, she inherited it. Her family owned the Three Rivers Brewery.” She looked at me. “You probably don’t remember it.”
    I had a vague memory of several huge old brick buildings somewhere along the river, but they were long gone before I was old enough to pay attention.
    No one said anything for a moment, until Goldie changed the subject again.
    â€œWe really should go find that dress soon, Janet.” Goldie held her beer to her lips and peered at me over her readers. “Wedding day will be upon us before you know it.”
    There are few things I hate more than shopping for clothes, and I knew this particular quest promised to be fraught with stumbling blocks and hazards. I glanced at Tom. He shrugged and said, “You can’t go nekkid.”
    â€œOkay, okay. Tomorrow afternoon.” I can hardly wait.

sixteen
    Stress makes me hungry for things I don’t want most of the time, and although finding Ray’s body had made me skip lunch, by the time Tom and Goldie finished their pale ales, I was ravenous. The problem was compounded because I’m not much of a cook, or shopper. Tom is, but he hadn’t moved in yet, so there weren’t many raw ingredients in the fridge or cupboards to assemble into a meal. If I had been alone, I might have settled for the stuff I did find—crackers with peanut butter, a freckled banana, some chocolate chips, and popcorn. Goldie’s a great cook, and she offered to thaw some homemade soup from her freezer, but Tom nixed that idea.
    â€œHow about Indian?” he asked. “All three of us. My treat.”
    He didn’t need to ask twice. I shut Pixel and Leo into my guest room, checked the litterbox, ran a brush through my hair, and we were out the door.
    â€œShould I lock Totem up when I leave him?” Goldie asked as Tom cleared his backseat.
    â€œNot if he can’t get hurt,” I said. “I just don’t like to leave a baby loose with the dogs. They’d never hurt her on purpose, but play can get out of hand.” Face it, you’re over-protective . “I won’t lock Pixel up once she’s bigger.”
    â€œJerk.”
    For half a second I thought she meant me, but Goldie was looking past me. I turned, and there he was, the new neighbor. He had a point-and -shoot camera hanging against his chest and a notebook and pen in his hand, and he seemed to be examining the exterior of his house inch by inch. That seemed a little tardy, since he’d already moved in. It also seemed an odd time for photos since it was almost dark out. Then again, he was an insurance agent. What do I know?
    â€œNo time like the