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

of the bed when I was dressed for the day. They didn’t stir as I passed by.
    I descended the stairs slowly, feeling the effects of being tackled by two lawmen. I sure wasn’t getting any younger. I stopped in front of the patio door and hollered, “Who wants to go out?”
    For a count of three, silence greeted my words.
    Then there were a couple of thumps overhead. The sound of nails scrabbled against the hardwood floor in the upstairs hall. Then the dogs banged down the stairs, bounded around the corner, and raced toward me. If I didn’t know them better, I’d have been afraid that two nearly hundred-pound canines would send me head over keister and crashing right through the sliding glass door.
    But even though Bogey had a hard time controlling his snoot and Dawg enjoyed bouncing on anyone he loved, they both managed to screech to a halt just before plowing me over. Their muscles quivered in anticipation of the great outdoors, misty or not.
    I slid the patio door open and they nearly tripped over each other as they burst outside. I followed them to the edge of the covered porch and leaned against one of the two carved pillars that framed the short set of stairs leading to ground level.
    It was damp and chilly. I hugged myself and watched the pooches chase each other around the yard. They charged around the corner and out of sight down the run beside the house and then zoomed back again. After some vigorous snuffling and taking care of biz, they returned to careening around the now mostly brown lawn, carefree and exuberant.
    Carefree and exuberant I was not. I was a study in contrasts, on edge and raw. Panic bubbled within me, in turns manageable, and then unbearable. The thought of JT locked away, probably terrified, conflicted with my darker contemplation of her tangled web of secrets. The crappy night of sleep wasn’t helping any.
    I squeezed the back of my neck and blew out a long breath. I had to do something. Eddy often liked to tell me when I was younger that action was always better than contemplation. As usual, she was right.
    With the dogs romping contentedly, I headed back inside to fill their dishes and pour myself a bowl of Lucky Charms. Maybe some of that little leprechaun’s luck would rub off.
    I slumped into a dining room chair and chowed my breakfast. Once I washed down the last bite with a glass of orange juice, I dialed Tyrell’s cell. Hopefully he’d have good news for me.
    On the fourth ring, he picked up. “Johnson.” His voice was hoarse and thick.
    Oops. “Ty, it’s Shay. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
    I heard rustling and a couple of soft grunts as, in my mind’s eye, he probably struggled to sit up. “No problem. You okay?”
    “Hanging in there. Mostly. Did you hear anything more last night?”
    “No. I tried. The Scott County Sheriff’s Department is pretty much locked down when it comes to anything related to JT’s arrest. Not sure why they’re being such dickheads.”
    “It’s got to have something to do with that Clint Roberts, the detective who arrested JT. I’ve never seen her so hostile with another cop before.”
    “Dunno, maybe he is the stumbling block. I’ll try again and see if he’ll play. Why the hell would JT have a beef with the guy, though, is what I don’t get. She gets along with everyone.” He sounded almost envious.
    Did Tyrell let himself entertain the damning yet impossible notion that JT might actually have pulled the trigger? I had to admit that the circumstances did look terrible—considering the pickle chunks and juice splattered on her shirt, combined with the amount of time she’d been MIA. But I just couldn’t see her doing the deed. However, I knew better than most that even good people can be pushed into doing things they typically would never consider. I prayed this wasn’t one of those cases.
    Eddy’s file peeping suggestion nagged at the back of my mind, and no matter how I tried to tune the thought out, it kept popping up and