Louisiana Longshot (A Miss Fortune Mystery, Book 1) Read Online Free Page B

sighed and stepped into the water to shake the dog. Saggy support hose were not something I was interested in seeing in this lifetime, much less today, when my absurdity meter was already on overload.  
    “Bones,” I yelled at the hound as I jostled his body. He let out a loud snore. Not even so much as an eyelid flickered.  
    “You may have to pick him up,” Gertie instructed. “He sleeps like the dead.”
    “You think?” I gave him one final shake with no result, then straddled him and wrapped my hands underneath his body, hoping if I pulled him to an erect position, he’d wake up and help me out a bit. Just as I was about to lift, he woke up with a start and flipped over, crashing into my right leg and sending me sprawling into the bayou.  
    Instantly, the polyester suit soaked up a thousand pounds of water and began to itch like crazy. I struggled to rise, but then my legs sank in some sort of quicksand-like mud, and my entire body lowered six inches into the rapidly rising water. And that’s when my training kicked in.  
    In a split second, I shed the heavy suit top, exposing the lacy strip of fabric beneath. I placed the suit top in front of me, flat across the mud and heaved myself onto it with my knees. A short crawl across the suit top put me onto the grass of the backyard, and I collapsed on the lawn, my feet and legs so caked with mud they felt as if they’d been encased in cement. My eyes stung from the water and I clamped them shut, not wanting to think about how much bacteria was running through them.  
    I heard someone clear their throat and opened one eye. Bones was sitting next to me, clutching the bone in his mouth and looking quite satisfied all the way around. Directly behind him was a pair of blue jean-encased legs. I followed the legs up and found myself looking at the guy I’d seen in town with the monster truck.
    “We sorta frown on skinny-dipping around here,” he said, “especially at crime scenes.”
    I jumped up and glared. “This is a…lace-shirt-thingie. I’m hardly naked.”
    He raised one eyebrow. “Your lace-shirt-thingie is white and thin, so you may as well be.”
    I looked down and was momentarily horrified to see his assessment was absolutely correct. What in the world were clothes manufacturers thinking, making a top that wasn’t water resistant? Girly clothes sucked rocks.
    Before I could retort, Gertie slapped her gigantic bag across my chest and glared at him. “Young man, your mother raised you with better manners, and you best just get on with your job or I’ll tell her all about this.”
    He smiled, a slow, sexy smile that you usually see in movies, but he never took his gaze off me. “I am doing my job. This is the second time today I’ve caught this woman breaking the law.”
    “You’re the deputy?”
    I don’t know why I was surprised. So far, he was the only person in town I’d seen well under the century mark. Given that the sheriff had arrived on horseback, monster-truck guy might be the only person in town that could still function well enough to have a driver’s license.
    “Carter LeBlanc,” he introduced himself. “Protecting the citizens of Sinful.”
    I pointed to the bone. “You didn’t protect that one.”
    A tiny bit of smug slipped from his expression.  
    “I’m going to change clothes,” I said, “unless, of course, changing clothes in your own home is also a crime in Sinful.” I whirled around and started toward the house.
    “Only on Wednesdays,” Gertie called behind me.
    ###
    I used the water hose next to the back porch to wash the black, gooey mud off my legs and arms. The last thing I wanted to do was track it into the house and have to do something domestic, like mopping, on my first day here. It stuck like tar, and for a moment, I wondered if I was going to need a scraper to get it loose. After what seemed like a lifetime, my skin finally appeared, and I turned off the water and stalked into the house, letting the