Free Calamity Jayne and the Sisterhood of the Traveling Lawn Gnome by Kathleen Bacus

Winegardner's front window. I shook my head.
    Oh, brother.
    Make that oh, sisters.
    I jogged up to the front porch and opened the screen door. A long, bony, liver-spotted hand reached out and pulled me into house and slammed the door closed behind me.
    "What were you doing at Abigail's?" Gram demanded, a set of binoculars hanging around her neck.
    Evade! Evade! Evade!
    "Why would I be at Abigail Winegardner's?"
    "That's what we want to know."
    "We?"
    "Joe and me. Right, Joe?"
    "Joe?"
    "Did I hear someone mention my name?" Joe said, walking into the living room wearing a pink polo shirt and what appeared to be khaki capri pants.
    "Nice, uh, outfit, Joe," I said with a pointed look at his ensemble. "You start buying off the modern miss racks?"
    Joe's face blushed pinker than his shirt.
    "I'll have you know these are the latest in men's European fashion," Joe said.
    "Good to know," I said. "I thought maybe my gammy had some trouble with the laundry again and you had some, er, shrinkage."
    "I'll just bet you did," Joe said. "Now, what were we talking about before you tried to distract us? Oh, yes. You were about to tell us what you were doing at our neighbor's house. Isn't that right, Hannah?"
    "That's right. What's goin' on with you and ol' lady Winegardner?"
    "Nothing! Really! Nothing's going on with the neighbor lady and me. I hardly know the woman!"
    I felt a moment of déjà vu. If I wasn't mistaken, at a time in the not-so-distant past Joe Townsend had used these very words to reassure my gammy of his fidelity.
    "What's that on your face?"
    "What?"
    "There. Around your mouth." Joe said. "You've got crumbs."
    Before I could put a hand up to wipe the evidence away, my gammy was on me like a mouse on a trap baited with a Rolo caramel. She put her fingers up and literally snatched the crumbs from my lips and put them to her own.
    "Abigail's sticky buns!" she hissed. "Patouey!"
    "Okay, okay!" I put my arms in your basic 'I give up' pose. "So she offered me a bun. To be polite, I accepted. I assure you I didn't enjoy them."
    "Them?" Joe said and lifted an eyebrow.
    "Why're you visiting Abigail?" Gram asked.
    I sighed.
    "If you must know, it's about that gnome of hers."
    "That butt ugly one? She still accusin' me of pilferin' the homely little halfling?" Gram asked.
    "I was there to get a picture of the gnome in question," I said.
    "Why?" Joe and Gram said in unison.
    "I, uh, er, well, I thought I might have spotted it the other night, and I wanted to see if she had a photo so I'd know for sure."
    I know. Lame. Really lame.
    "Helloo! Lame and lamer," Gram said. "What about that man?"
    "Man?"
    "The man Abigail has living with her! The old duffer who looks like a homeless dude! That man!" Gram said.
    I shook my head.
    "I didn't see any man."
    "The man you let out of your car, Tressa! The man who tried to sneak into ol' horse face's house without being seen!" Gram said.
    "Oh. That man!" I said.
    "Yes. That man," Joe said.
    "Is he Abby's lover?" Gram asked.
    Eww.
    "I have no idea," I said. "And I don't want to know."
    True and truer.
    "He's a scruffy character," Joe observed. "All that cloak-and-dagger and duck-and-cover drama."
    "And apparently quite unnecessary and ultimately unsuccessful." It was my turn to observe.
    "Well, naturally," Joe said with a lift of his chin.
    "Wait! You hear that? I think she's leaving!"
    Gram grabbed her binoculars and raced to the back door.
    "So, chickie. How does Abigail's homely gnome figure into your latest story?" Joe asked. "And no bull."
    "I'm working a hunch," I said.
    "Oh, God," Joe said. "I know I may regret this, but details please."
    I shook my head.
    "Your turn. Have you made any headway on our man of mystery project?"
    "I have a few ideas," he said.
    "And?"
    "I'll show you mine if you show me yours," he said.
    Double eww!
    "Damn. It's just ol' Lady Winegardner leaving again," Gram said. "Looks like she left Lover Boy at home."
    Or, maybe Uncle Bo was hiding in the backseat.
    "I'm outta