Read 3 Can You Picture This? for Free Online Page B

plain cotton bras. Not only that, my summer pajamas were threadbare and a few of my favorites had holes in the elbows and knees. I didn’t even own sexy nightgowns or pajamas. What was I going to do? I started looking through my bureau as I thought. I didn’t know if I was going to sleep with George in his bedroom. I assumed I would. We’d been intimate for a few months, but because of our work schedules we’d only been able to “get together” once a week or so, and it was usually spontaneous.
    In the bottom of my bra drawer I found two that were a little sexier than my plain cotton ones. I packed them plus one of my better white cotton bras. No lace, strictly utilitarian. I’d save that one for the day I was going home.
    Then in my underwear drawer I found some granny panties that were at least flowered, with colors that hadn’t faded. I replaced my white ones with those. Instead of my “holey” pajamas, I put a few sleeveless T’s and two pairs of short gym shorts that hadn’t seen the light of day in years. I definitely needed to do some lingerie shopping in the near future.
    I met my kids back in the living room. They both had backpacks which I’m sure included their iPads. That reminded me I needed to pack my laptop. We could easily stay in touch via phone or computer. I hugged them both, almost desperately, and said, “I love you so much. Take care of yourselves, and do whatever the cops and Uncle Pete tell you to do. I’ll talk to you every day, and I’m sure we’ll all be home soon.”
    Clancy circled around them, looking anxious, until I told her they were just going to their Uncle Pete’s. She was able to relax then and give them both doggy good-bye kisses.
    It was only a few moments later that George and I were ready to leave. I made sure the coffee pot was turned off, and that there was nothing else I needed to take care of. This time I did lock the door, and heard George say, “About time.” But I could hear the grin in his voice.
    “I have to tell Gus what’s going on.”
    He nodded, and I bounded up Gus and Georgianne’s back stairs. Gus opened the door before I knocked. After we greeted each other, I explained to Gus what was going on.
    “Do you need me to do anything?” He seemed excited. “Want us to keep Clancy? I can help you know.”
    He’d been involved in every murder I had solved so far (or helped to solve, as George would say).
    “Thanks, but Clancy is going with me,” I said, hating to leave him out of this. “You could keep an eye on my place. If you notice anything odd, call the police. Do not—and I repeat—do not do anything else. Don’t go out back. Just watch my place from your house. It might even be good for you to park on the street instead of back here. That way you won’t have to come out here at all. Got it?”
    “Yeah, I got it.”
    “Good,” I said.
    George’s laughter could not be contained.
    I gave him my patented “look” but it didn’t do any good. He kept laughing.
    “What’s so funny?”
    “You told Gus the same things I tell you. Hope it works better with him.”
    I couldn’t argue with him. It was true. My curiosity and my stubbornness apparently knew no bounds.
    But I smiled. Even though a murderer might be after me, I was getting a chance to “play house” with George. Nothing wrong with that.

NINE
    W e left my blue Bug next to the carriage house, loaded up George’s nondescript police car, and took off. Clancy didn’t like being in the back seat, but there was only room for George and me in front. “Sorry, Clancy. You’ll be back in a place of honor as soon as we get to George’s.” She seemed to understand.
    I had only been to the outside of George’s house since I’d moved back to Quincy. We always seemed to be at mine. As a kid I was at his home frequently; in grade school George and I were friends and played baseball together a lot in the summer. At night we played Kick the Can and other games that took a lot of