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

then grew louder as he approached my wall.
    “Okay,” I whispered, securing the phone more tightly to my ear. “Where did you want to take me and what did we eat?”
    I glanced at my sketchpad. I had drawn a deer wearing a hunting jacket, phone raised to his muzzle. This was the problem with accidental eavesdropping. Instead of sketching Luke, my artist subconscious had chosen my loud neighbor as a subject.
    “... how do you think? Distract him,” said my neighbor.
    I added a mustache. And erased the mustache. My neighbor didn’t sound mustache-y. Although he did sound youngish. I replaced the mustache with a hipster beard.
    “What do you mean, what did we eat? Always thinking about food.” Luke chuckled. “Wouldn’t you rather hear what I’d do after I took you home?” I could hear his smile stretch until the dimples broke to frame his grin.
    I jumped at the sound of a loud bump. No-Mustache had dropped or kicked something. On my sketchpad, the deer kicked off his field boot.
    “Sure, tell me,” I said, refocusing on Luke. I forced my hand to draw hearts and cupids. “What’d we do when you took me home?”
    “First, I’d peel off that denim jacket you love to wear. And you’d kick off those old cowboy boots.”
    “Getting comfortable. Sounds good.”
    No-Mustache’s voice oozed with condescension. “You know how. And don’t tell me you don’t like the benefits...” His voice trailed off as he began to pace again.
    My deer now stood with his hooves on his hips, bearded chin raised. Below him, a bunny with drooping whiskers stared at the ground. I drew in a limp carrot.
    “Let’s see, you’re still wearing that skirt I like.” Luke’s voice deepened and dropped to a caress. “What should we do about that?”
    I scribbled out the limp carrot. “Um, how about your jacket and boots?”
    “You want me to take anything else off?”
    “...is good,” said No-Mustache. His voice grew louder. “But I’d rather see him dead.”
    “ Dead?” I exclaimed. Then realized No-Mustache could hear me.
    And so could Luke.
    “ Shit ,” I said.
    “Sugar? You okay?”
    In the next room, a door slammed.
    “Fine, fine.” I dropped my sketchpad, ran to my door, and cracked the door to peer into the hall. “Where’d he go?”
    “Where’d who go?” said Luke.
    I opened my mouth, then shut it. Curiosity was one thing. Admitting to spying on your neighbor while your sort-of-boyfriend-but-not-really thought you were concentrating on nekkid fantasies was a whole other deal.
    “You’re breathing hard. And not in a good way.” Luke’s voice switched from sizzle to snap. “What are you doing, Cherry?”
    I swapped my attention back to the phone. “Nothing. Where were we? Do you still have on your imaginary pants?”
    “Are you even in your room?”
    “Of course I’m in my room.”
    “Then why are you asking yourself about where some guy went?”
    Dangit.
    “That was nothing. The TV.” I glanced at my dark TV. “In the next room. The walls are paper thin at this place.”
    A young man in a knit beanie and skinny sweats stepped through an open door at the end of the hall. He balanced an ice bucket under one arm while he checked for his room key in his pocket.
    I shut my door before he caught sight of me. “Soul patch,” I whispered. “Not a beard. But definitely no mustache.”
    “I don’t have a beard. Or a soul patch,” said Luke. “Are you spying on your neighbor?”
    “Possibly.” I rolled my eyes at my own idiocy. “I’d say I couldn’t help it because he was loud and saying crazy stuff, so I wanted to see the face that matched the voice. But I know that’s not a good reason.”
    “What’s a good reason?”
    “That we shouldn’t be talking like this, so I’m distracting myself. Just like I’m distracting myself with Abel’s death so I don’t have to think about what’s going on at home .”
    “Sugar—”
    “You don’t have to say it. I shouldn’t have called in the first