Free Harley Rushes In (Book 2 of the Blue Suede Mysteries) by Virginia Brown

connection, a bond that goes beyond just mutual affection.”
    “Right.” Harley had her own opinion about King’s former life. She was certain he’d been a hit man for the mob, or perhaps even a drug kingpin. The dog had lamentable tendencies toward a life of crime. “So, have you thought any more about my suggestion that you put your money in a bank instead of a pickle jar?”
    “Yes, Harley. We have.” Diva deftly chopped mushrooms into a bowl with the bean sprouts and water chestnuts. “Yogi feels it best to continue as we are for now. You’re so kind to worry about us, though. We simply cannot allow money to become the most important thing in our lives. You saw what happened when we got greedy.”
    “You didn’t get greedy, Diva. Yogi accepted an offer of work. That’s hardly the same thing.” Harley plucked a water chestnut from the bowl. It was cool and crunchy. “Add some soy. Really, I worry that one day someone’s going to think you’ve got a lot of money stashed and rob you.”
    “If someone needs money that bad, they have only to ask. We freely share the gifts we’ve been given. Will you please hand me the bamboo shoots?”
    Harley found them in a small carton on the counter and passed them to her mother, trying again. “Last time, King was kidnapped. Next time, it could be you or Yogi or even Eric.”
    A tiny little frown puckered Diva’s unlined brow. Hope rose. Perhaps mention of one of them being kidnapped would work after all.
    “Your father’s been very despondent since the police were here. Perhaps you’d speak with your new friend and see if he can do anything about returning the plants?”
    Harley blinked. “Diva, forget the pot plants. They’re illegal. Morgan was doing us a favor by not busting all of us for them, and so, I might add, was Bobby, who’s always known you grow pot in the backyard next to the tomatoes. I’m sure you have seeds somewhere. Plant more.”
    There were times she wished her parents would grow up and enter the twenty-first century instead of holding onto a way of life that was long gone and had probably never existed like they thought it had anyway. It had occurred to her more than once that she understood Grandmother Eaton’s frustration with her oldest daughter.
    Turning wide blue eyes on her, Diva gazed at her until Harley began to fidget. It was that look that always made her feel two years old again, pinned by the sudden realization that her mother knew everything she was thinking.
    In a familiar husky alto that worked so well in séances and tarot card readings, Diva said, “Harley, we’re happy the way we are. We’ll never be what you or my mother wants us to be. It’s all right. Everything will be fine.”
    “You always know what I’m thinking.”
    Diva smiled. “You have an open, free spirit. It’s easy to see what you’re thinking. I could do it even without my gift.”
    She didn’t doubt that. “Nevertheless, it’d make me feel better if you’d at least take some precautions.”
    “Harley, I want you to be careful of the plots. They may hurt you.”
    Plots? The back door leading from the screened porch banged and Harley had just enough time to brace herself before a black, white, and pink dog launched himself at her with great glee. Large bare spots in his coat testified to his recent dognapping, but he was in good shape for a dog that had been held captive in a storage closet.
    “Down, King,” she said, without a prayer he’d listen, and tried to pet him at the same time as she tried to fend off his exuberant greeting. Panting and slobbering, the dog leaped about, his toenails clacking against the tile floor and wood cabinets. Part Border Collie, part Mexican jumping bean, King had no sense of decorum whatsoever. When she finally got him to stay down by putting her hand atop his head and holding him between his ears, brown streaks of dirt from his paws stained her khaki jeans. One of the hazards of petting him.
    “You really