3 Panthers Play for Keeps Read Online Free

one, I’d never get away. So I did.
    “I don’t think there is one, Mrs. Horlick.” I fought off the urge to blink as she exhaled in my face. “I took Spot out for some exercise after an intensive afternoon of training. It was pure coincidence that he is being fostered by Dr. Kroft.”
    “Fostered, huh? And I thought she spent all her time with those rich people, looking out for what she can get.” For a moment, she sounded like Wallis. Only Wallis would never let her neat tiger stripes become as shabby as old lady Horlick’s housecoat. “Trying to make them as crazy as she is.”
    That was it. “Is Bitsy not up for his walk today?” I used Growler’s human name, the belittling moniker his woman had bestowed on him, and kept my voice level. The first rule in training is not to reward bad behavior with a reaction. “Because without twenty-four-hour notice, I will still be charging you for the day.”
    “No, no. Hold your horses.” She turned back into her dark hallway, leaving the door open for me to follow. I stepped up into the doorway, where I could reach the lead that hung on the coat rack, and waited. I value my lungs. “Come on, Bitsy.”
    I heard the scrabble of claws on a hard surface and one excited bark as she opened the door to the basement. The white dog bounded out to greet me, tiny tail wagging in spite of himself. I clipped on the lead and made eye contact with those black button eyes. One nod and we were in agreement.
    “Sorry ’bout that .” I let the little dog set the pace as we walked back to the sidewalk. Neither of us could get away quickly enough, but his legs had their limits.
    “It’s nothing,” I said under my breath. I could feel Tracy Horlick’s eyes on me.
    “She’s been bad lately .”We turned onto the sidewalk. “Worse, ever since— ”
    “Don’t you let him run all the way down the block.” Tracy Horlick was yelling and waving her cigarette for emphasis. “I don’t want him getting hurt.”
    “Not to worry.” I forced a smile as I waved back. “I won’t let him overexert.”
    “Huh .”The white dog slowed his pace. He was getting older; it was true. But I didn’t have the heart to hold him back on his one real outing of the day. “Old bitch .”
    I waited. Growler—his chosen name fit him a lot better than the cutesy one Tracy Horlick had given him—would have his say on his own time.
    “Hmmm…Gary’s been out .”The white dog stopped to sniff at a fence post. “Sean, too .”I was curious as to what the bichon had been about to say about his person, but I didn’t feel I could interrupt. When I wasn’t around, she let him use the tiny, fenced backyard as a lavatory, which meant that our rounds together did not only constitute his only real exercise, they also had to fulfill all his social needs as well. As gruff as he was with me, I knew the little fellow liked me. Didn’t matter. I wasn’t a fellow dog.
    “The old kidney trouble… ”I tagged behind him as he moved onto a tree and then a hydrant. It seemed rude to interrupt. Instead, I let my mind wander. But as I found myself picturing my hunky local detective with that honey-blonde head on his shoulder, I caught myself. Better to wonder about the dead body—and its effect on my canine charge.
    “So you want a consult, or what?” I looked down to see those button eyes staring up at me. I didn’t know how long Growler had been trying to get my attention, but there was no use denying my interest.
    “Yes, I do. About—” I stopped myself. The body. Spot. Laurel Kroft. Whatever was going on with Tracy Horlick. It all was of interest. “About anything.”
    He cocked his head, and I tried not to smile. Growler knows we humans think he’s adorable. He hates that about us. I didn’t know how successful I was, but I figured I’d get credit for trying.
    “That big guy will be okay .” I was right. “He’s got the imagination of a cat, but he’s solid. I can smell it on you. He’ll