Dead Jitterbug by Victoria Houston Read Free Book Online Page A

dead mouse?”
    “I assure you it’s not living,” said Kitsy with a shift of her shoulders so Carla could have a better view. Anxious for anything that would divert Carla’s attention from him, Osborne opted to look, too.
    “Don’t tell me you spent money on that?” asked Carla. The flattened body of a mouse appeared to be wearing the head of a small bird.
    “I spent a lot of money on it,” said Kitsy, raising her eyebrows to signify just how much. “I doubt you see much art in this neck of the woods but, trust me, this is quite extraordinary. It’s sculpted from antique taxidermy collectibles by a very well-known artist in New York City. I adore it.”
    She shifted her shoulders again so Carla could view the pin from all angles. “Bought it when I was there last month. The artist had a special showing down in TriBeCa—she has an exhibit opening in August out in L.A. if you’re interested, and you can see her stuff on the Internet. Isn’t it cool?”
    “It’s dead,” said Carla, eyes still glued to Kitsy’s shirt as if she expected the pin to make a move at any moment.
    “Like I said—it’s art,” said Kitsy. “A-R-T. Art.”
    “Give me one good reason you would pay money for something like that … dead thing,” said Carla.
    Kitsy closed her eyes in concentration, then opened them as she said, “Because it is so wrong—and yet so right. And, while I don’t expect you to understand, to me it speaks of the dichotomy of life.”
    Carla gave her a dim eye. “Ookay.”
    At that moment, they heard a beeping. All three looked down at their feet. The sound appeared to be coming from a red leather backpack leaning against one of the seats containing a livewell.
    “That’s mine,” said Kitsy, hurriedly setting down the paper sack as she knelt to unzip the backpack. She pulled out a cell phone cased in black Gore-Tex.
    “Hello?” She grinned at Osborne and Carla as she listened, then turned to point back behind them. On the hill above the fire pit stood a female figure silhouetted against the bright sky. “You’re kidding … quilted tissue?” said Kitsy. Covering the mouthpiece, she said, “It’s Julia.” She listened again, then clicked it off.
    “Carla, Julia found us a latrine on the other side of the island—with all the comforts of home.”
    “I can’t believe your cell phone works here,” said Carla. “Mine sure doesn’t. Just tried it a few minutes ago.”
    “This is a walkie-talkie—with a built-in GPS system,” said Kitsy, holding the unit out towards Carla.
    “That’s not a bad idea,” said Osborne. “Cell phones aren’t much good when you’ve got heavy leaf cover and thick stands of pine like this. You’ve got a much better chance in the woods with a radio. Both Ray and I use walkie-talkies when we’re deer hunting. But, Kitsy, I don’t care what they told you when you bought it—don’t bet your life on the GPS. If a cell-phone satellite signal is blocked, you better believe you’ll have the same problem with that GPS signal.”
    “Still …” said Carla, turning the device over and testing its weight before handing it back to Kitsy. “Hell of a better investment than that pin of yours. Where did you get this?”
    “The sporting goods shop in Loon Lake. Ralph’s,” said Kitsy, shoving the unit back into her pack. As she did so, a small leather-tooled holster, the same red as the backpack, bounced onto the floor at Carla’s feet. The holster held a small pistol.
    “Whoa!” said Carla, taking a quick step back. “I sincerely hope that’s not loaded.”
    “'Course not,” said Kitsy. “I’m not stupid.”
    Carla looked doubtful as Kitsy shoved the holster deep into her backpack. “Whatever you say,” said Carla. “But before you spend a lot of money on another dead mouse, why don’t you just shoot it yourself.” And she cackled.
    Osborne grasped one handle of the cooler, Carla the other. He took care all the way up to the fire pit not to look her