Shay O'Hanlon Caper 03 - Pickle in the Middle Murder by Jessie Chandler. Read Free Book Online Page A

her head. She was hot, she was beautiful, and somehow, she was all mine.
    My throat constricted. I wished with every fiber of my being that she were home, safe and sound, in my arms instead of banging her head against the bars of a jail cell. Alone. Ugh.
    I pulled the backpack onto my lap and gently slid the waxed flower from the bag. The colorful head was somehow still mostly intact, barely attached to the stem. I chucked the stem, hauled myself out of the chair, and gingerly set the head on an empty shelf. Better some than none.
    The house was unnaturally quiet and depressing without JT. My jaws popped in a huge yawn. I desperately needed to sleep. Whether or not it would come was another question.
    I descended the staircase to turn out the lights on the main floor.
    Dawg was curled up on one corner of the couch, his head propped on the arm. At the sound of my footsteps, he hopped off and followed me as I extinguished the lights in the dining room and entered the kitchen to do the same. He licked his lips and gazed longingly from me to his bowl and back again. His entire upper lip was snagged on his lower teeth, giving him the most pathetic, irresistible face ever. However, tonight even that wasn’t working.
    “Sorry buddy, that’s it. You don’t want to be up all night with indigestion, do you?”
    He whined and put an even more woeful look on his squashed face. I gave him a vigorous cheek rub that flapped his lips up and down.
    Then I turned my attention to Bogey, who was sprawled out on the kitchen floor. I stroked the soft fur between his eyes and he gave me a slow, deep sigh. He peered up at me with big brown eyes, and the loose skin on his forehead crinkled up. I patted the frown down, and he sighed again.
    Life was sure easier when you only required some decent food, a nice yard to play and poop in, and lots of unconditional love.

    Sleep, unsurprisingly, was hard to find. Time and again I jerked awake after groping for JT’s solid warmth and finding nothing but cool sheets.
    I rolled over yet again and stared at the glowing red numbers on the clock radio. 7:15. Not the way I liked to start my Sunday mornings. With a frustrated sigh, I sat up and snapped the bedside light on, illuminating the room. When I moved in, we’d redecorated the bedroom to make it feel a little more like mine as well as JT’s. The walls sported a light orange color that at first I thought would be disconcerting, but now I actually kind of liked it.
    A couple pictures of Coop, Eddy, and the rest of the café gang graced the walls, along with a few shots of JT’s folks. Above our bed was a headboard-sized painting done by Alex Rodriguez, a local artist pal of mine. She’d given it to JT and me when we’d finally decided to live in sin together. It was an abstract desert scene, done in both muted and vibrant desert colors. I had to admit it went well with the orange walls.
    I threw off the covers and stood, the beige-speckled loop and pile carpet soft under my bare feet. I padded into the large bathroom and flicked the light. Three bulbs at the top of the medicine cabinet popped on, making me squint. I was headed toward the shower when I caught sight of myself in the mirror. What a case of bed head! My dark hair was flattened on one side and shoved up in tufts elsewhere. A line ran down the left side of my cheek where I’d laid too long on a fold in the pillowcase. Haunted, bloodshot eyes stared back at me. I turned quickly for the comfort of a hot shower, which did little to clear the fog in my head.
    I rolled through the motions of dressing myself, pulling on black jeans and a semi-clean purple First Avenue T-shirt I’d tossed across the back of a chair earlier in the week. Fortunately, I didn’t have to work at the Hole on this dreary, misty morning. I was so distracted I’d probably give hot chocolate for coffee orders and serve up whipped cream instead of tapioca pudding.
    Both Bogey and Dawg were still conked out at the foot