To Sketch a Thief by Sharon Pape Read Free Book Online

same page with regard to his future travel plans.
    “Remember the media frenzy after Conti said he was caught by Wyatt Earp? That’ll seem like a flea circus once a few well-respected detectives and solid citizens witness one of your entrances or exits.”
    “I suppose as how that might be so,” he conceded in the reluctant tone of one who’s been outflanked by the truth.
    “Okay then, we’re agreed that you won’t try to follow me anywhere unless I’ve determined that you won’t have an audience?”
    Zeke ran his long, calloused fingers through his hair as he contemplated her request. “Just so long as it’s not an emergency,” he said solemnly, holding out his hand as if to shake on it.
    Rory’s heart danced a little bebop up into her throat. She was about to find out what ghosts were made of or risk offending the marshal. She pasted a smile on her mouth and put out her hand, determined to keep it steady. She was inches away from touching him when he pulled his hand back.
    “That’s okay, darlin’,” he said, laughing, “I’ll consider the effort done for the deed.”
    Rory shrugged as if it didn’t matter to her one way or the other, but relief surged through her as her heart settled back into place. She’d let him enjoy this little triumph at her expense. She was satisfied that she’d won the other rounds of the bout.
    “You have yourself a good night there with Hobo the lionhearted,” Zeke said and he was gone while his words still hung in the air.
    Hobo waited a minute, snuffled the air and decided that it was safe enough to leave his hidey-hole beneath Rory’s legs. But he wouldn’t venture far from her side. Together they took the slice of pizza out of the refrigerator and heated it back to crispness in a pan on the stove—a little trick she’d learned from a chef on TV. While it cooked, Hobo rediscovered his appetite and was rewarded with a good portion of the crust.
    After dinner, Rory brought in the bag of kibble and scooped some into a bowl that she left beside his water dish. If she was going to keep Hobo she’d have to buy him proper dog bowls as well as some toys and maybe a bed of his own. But that wasn’t a decision she wanted to make until she’d had a good night’s sleep.

Chapter 5
    W hen the telephone rang it awakened Rory from a deep, exhausted sleep to the sound of someone snoring. Who on earth was in her bed? As her eyes snapped open, she burst into laughter, waking the snorer, who yawned and thumped his tail lazily against the quilt.
    She grabbed for the phone on the third ring, before it went to voice mail. The stranger on the other end introduced herself as Tina Kovack and launched right into the reason for her call, chattering so rapidly that each word was partially swallowed by the next. To Rory’s sleepfogged brain she might just as well have been speaking Swahili as English.
    “Excuse me, Ms. Kovack,” she interrupted, “would you please repeat that a bit more slowly?”
    “Sorry I’m sorry I was a friend of poor Brenda Hartley’s and I just found out that she’s dead not just dead dead would be bad enough but she was murdered.”
    Although Tina was making an effort to speak more distinctly, she’d completely abandoned punctuation, as if she were too agitated to concentrate on more than one speech issue at a time.
    “I know, Ms. Kovack, my condolences,” Rory said, sliding out of bed and pulling a cotton robe on over her nightgown. Hobo groaned and stretched out, claiming the vacated pillow.
    “How can I be of help?” She headed for the kitchen. She needed a strong cup of coffee and fast.
    “I know you’re a private investigator you solved those murders a few months back and I need to hire you.”
    Rory filled the coffeemaker and turned it on. “Okay, if you’ll hold for a minute I’ll get to my computer and we’ll set up an appointment.” She made a point of speaking slowly in the hope that Tina would follow her example.
    “Oh, okay.” Tina