The Body in the Landscape (A Cherry Tucker Mystery Book 5) by Larissa Reinhart Read Free Book Online Page A

party with their own guide. But with the rain we’ve had and more coming, even the UTVs might get stuck. If we get the hog, we’ll probably need to bury it out there too.”
    “Eww,” said Peach.
    “That means you,” Bob pointed his rocks tumbler at me, “need to come out with us. I want my portrait done with that pig. Can’t leave him long before he starts stinking, and I’m not standing next to him any longer than I have to.”
    “The weather sounds iffy for working outside. I could easily paint your portrait from a photo when you get back.”
    “Everyone knows it’s better to have a live subject. What kind of artist are you?”
    I kept my mouth shut when I longed to point out that half of the subject in his “kill portrait” wouldn’t be “live.”
    “You are known for quick sketching, is it not true, Artist?” asked Max. “You make the winner’s sketch out the doors and paint inside. Plein Air pig.”
    I sighed and nodded.
    “Maybe I could hold a tarp over her,” said Todd.
    “Now you’re cooking with gas,” said Bob. “I like the way you think, boy.”
    Todd beamed. Unlike me, Todd easily suffered fools.
    “What about the business of this death on property?” Clinton Sparks didn’t seem to mind his abruptness, but his wife blushed. “Will the investigation interrupt the hunt?”
    “Swinton police said by tomorrow afternoon, we should be good to go,” said Mike. “Mr. Spencer’s accident was not in the reserve, anyway. We’ve got target practice in the morning and we’ll head out after lunch.”
    “Do you think it’ll hurt Big Rack’s business?” With his eyes on Mike, Clinton sipped from his scotch.
    “What Clinton means,” said Jenny Sparks, “is we’re just such fans of Big Rack, we’d hate for anyone to think badly of the lodge.”
    “I thought Henry and Lois would be here tonight,” continued Clinton.
    “I haven’t seen the Woodcocks yet.” Mike forced a weak smile. “How about we get dinner started? Go ahead and take your seats in the dining room. We’ve got a specially prepared menu.”
    “I hope it includes those pork chops I smell,” I said.
    “Our new gourmet chef’s taking on all the cooking for your weekend,” said Jeff Digby. “Viktor doesn’t recommend eating certain meats or dairy before a big hunt, though. Pigs have a great sense of smell and they’ll get wind of the oils seeping through your skin.”
    “I guess a hog might be offended by pork chops,” I conceded.
    “I’m sure Viktor will have something better than pork chops,” said Jenny. “I love his foie gras.”
    I didn’t know in what world foie gras would be better than pork chops, but not the one I resided in. “I’ve heard a lot about your local cook. The housekeeper told me she makes some good chicken fried steak.”
    “That’s true. Jessica’s food is amazing.” Jeff’s gaze drifted to the ceiling. Probably recalling the delicious chicken fried steak he was now denying the hunt members. “But Viktor is very good at the foodie stuff.”
    “Let’s see what Viktor planned for tonight’s meal.” Mike held out his arm. “This way, y’all.”
    The others began making their way to the dining room.
    I caught Todd’s arm. Ominous descriptions like “foodie” and “foie gras” didn’t sit well after an afternoon spent with the police.
    Particularly when my nose had sussed out pork chops.
    “I don’t know about this fancy food,” I whispered. “I had French food once and they gave me snails. It was like eating erasers dipped in butter. I’ve been counting on pork chops ever since catching the scent, and my stomach’s not so good with shocks to the system.”
    “Maybe we won’t get snails,” said Todd. “Foie gras sounds Chinese. You like eggrolls.”
    “I’ll just sneak into the kitchen and see if this Viktor can let me eat regular food. I’ll tell him my snail story and he’ll be real sympathetic, I’m sure.”
    “I don’t know, Cherry,” said Todd.