Free Hound Dog Blues by Virginia Brown Page B

While she didn’t really believe in psychic ability like Diva did, instincts went a long way in her book. And instincts warned her that Bruno Jett was up to something.
    Cutting off the bike, Harley sat staring at Jett’s house for a long moment. There was no sign of activity, no indication he was home other than the kitchen light. Since moving in he’d had plenty of visitors show up, cars parked in the drive or in front of the house. Was he at home?
    If he was gone, maybe she could do a little snooping around, just to see if he had anything of interest to the police. Bobby didn’t seem inclined to worry about Jett, but there were times he leaned toward the belief that Harley had too active an imagination. While that might be true, this time was different. It didn’t make any sense, but she felt Diva was right, that Jett was involved in all this somehow. There was no plausible reason for her suspicion of him other than the jewelry he hadn’t satisfactorily explained . . . and the feeling she had that Bobby was holding something back. Maybe Jett did have a murder conviction on his record, and Bobby didn’t want her to know. He had this macho thing about “ I know what’s best for you ” going on most of the time, so that was probably his reasoning now. It was very irritating.
    A cool breeze that smelled of freshly cut grass and jasmine tickled her nose and the back of her neck. Diva’s wildflower garden rustled softly, her wind chimes tinkled a melody, and in the distance, a dog barked. That made her think of King. And her father.
    Yogi could always tell King’s bark from other dogs, but she had no idea how he knew. It had to be because he doted on the furry beast. Where could they be? And did their abrupt decision to disappear have anything to do with Bruno Jett? It was possible. Maybe not probable, but possible. Maybe Yogi had seen Jett come out of Mrs. Trumble’s house. After all, Jett had shown up to watch the cops, and he had a lengthy rap sheet, so it wasn’t too far a stretch that he was involved somehow.
    It’d be too big a coincidence if Jett had disappeared at the same time as Yogi and Diva—wouldn’t it? She remembered Bobby’s warning that he was dangerous and to stay away. Right.
    It took her another minute or two to work up the nerve to risk trespassing again. Since he wasn’t there, however, it didn’t seem quite as daunting. She crossed the pavement and strips of grass newly clipped to the usual suburban height in his yard, a marked contrast to the Davidson lawn’s eclectic look. A peek in the garage window assured her his car was gone. Good.
    Standing once more on the porch, she knocked sharply and waited. There was no answer, no sound of footsteps. She gave it a few more moments, and then moved around to the back door.
    An aluminum awning curved over the back porch, and the storm door was unlocked. She mulled over using the metal pick she always carried for those times she locked her keys in the car, but decided against it. Breaking and entering was not something she wanted to show up on her résumé. But how else would she find out anything about Jett if she didn’t investigate? Bobby was no help. What if Jett had her parents? Or was responsible for their flight? What if he came back? Should she go in?
    Do. Don’t. Which one? Her agony of indecision was brief.
    In a short moment, she had her metal pick in the lock and the door clicked softly open. She stepped inside, consoling herself with the firm reminder that she was trying to save Yogi from being arrested for something he didn’t do, or even from Bruno Jett. And after all she didn’t intend to steal anything, even if she was trespassing.
    Somehow, she just knew Bobby Baroni would never accept the logic in that. Nor, she thought as she stood for a moment in the dimly-lit kitchen, would Bruno Jett if he came home and caught her prowling around in his house. Feeling more like a sneak thief by the moment, and convinced she’d never