Demise in Denim by Duffy Brown Read Free Book Online Page B

in the cute little dressing room that used to be my pantry until I painted it yellow and hung a curtain in front of it. Since I’d only ever used it to house a few cans of SpaghettiOs and maybe green beans for when I had a health food attack, I really didn’t miss the space that much.
    I opened the door to let BW do his evening sniff-and-sprinkle routine. He bolted out the door like getting shot from a cannon and tore across the street. Dang! Every once in a while this happened, usually when I least expected it. What did he see: a rabbit, a squirrel, a cat? BW was on the hunt and now I had to find him, and the fact that I’d had less than four hours of sleep didn’t matter to BW one little bit.
    â€œWhy are you staring at the street?” Auntie KiKi wanted to know as she came out the front door of Rose Gate, her lovely white-and-blue Victorian that had been in the Vanderpool family since Sherman and his buddies showed up. It was Tuesday night, canasta night, and KiKi had on her lucky tiara. KiKi killed at canasta, so I guessed the tiara worked.
    â€œBW is on a run after some critter.”
    â€œPlease, Lord, do not let it be a skunk,” KiKi lamented. We exchanged looks, both remembering last month and that skunk encounter and the twenty cans of tomato juice to get rid of the odor.
    â€œMy guess is one way or the other he’ll wind up at Boone’s house looking for a snack,” I said.
    â€œI’ll take Drayton and you take Lincoln and we’ll meet up at Boone’s.”
    â€œWhat about the Tuesday night canasta girls?” I pointed to the tiara.
    â€œWe decided to call it off. Steffy Lou Adkins plays with us, and it didn’t seem right to be swilling pink margaritas and eating red velvet cake without her there and considering Conway’s wake is tomorrow night and all. Steffy Lou is such a sweet girl, and Conway’s passing hit her real hard. I was taking the tiara out for a spin so as not to break the lucky streak it seems to have going. Now we best get a move on before the dogcatcher snags BW and it costs you a pretty penny to get him out of jail.”
    KiKi backed the Beemer out of the drive and slowly motored down Gwinnett calling, “
Here, doggie, doggie, doggie
.” I got BW’s leash from inside along with Old Yeller and snatched up two hot dogs to bribe BW away from whatever got his attention in the first place. A soft warm glow settled over the city as streetlights blinked on and office lights faded to black. I searched alleys, front yards, and a few Dumpsters, but there was no sign of BW.
    I cut through Troup Square, checking the doggie fountain there, one of BW’s fave watering holes. A lot of canines were out for an evening stroll but no BW. I cut across Charlton. The big oaks shaded the street by day and filtered moonlight at night. With the cobblestones and perfectly restored old homes, the street was pretty much as it was a hundred years ago, and right there on Boone’s porch that happened to be connected to one of those lovely old homes was Auntie KiKi with BW. Guess that tiara really did have lucky powers.
    â€œYou know,” KiKi called to me as I climbed the wrought-iron steps to the porch, “if you had a cell phone I could have told you we were here.”
    â€œYou are a bad dog,” I said to BW, shaking my finger athim. In response he wagged his tail, sniffed at my pocket, sat, and gave me his paw. I gave him a hot dog. What can I say? I’m a puppy pushover. I clipped the leash to BW’s collar as KiKi peered into Boone’s window.
    â€œThere’s not much to see,” I said to KiKi, knowing exactly what was inside since I’d sort of finagled my way in a few months ago. “Boone’s house is all
Southern Living
on the outside and college dorm on the inside. I don’t think he realizes he has a dining room.” I scooped up the junk mail overflowing from the mailbox and stuffed it in