Hijack in Abstract (A Cherry Tucker Mystery) by Larissa Reinhart Page A

Do you think we’ll ever get back to the way things used to be? I had customers who wanted paintings of their newborns and frames for their commemorative NASCAR merchandise. I had a boyfriend who I thought was also my friend. A family who didn’t live with me, but I could visit on an as-needed basis. And a nemesis who left our pistol-dueling to potshots about my clothing and family ineptitudes.”
    Tater stuck his head between the wire and mouthed my jeans, spreading gooey green spittle over the denim.
    I hopped back a step. “This is Pearl’s doing, isn’t it? Did that woman stick you in here?”
    Tater pulled back, catching his horn in the upper wire. As he yanked, the barb caught at his beard. He bellowed his angst, and I worked at shoving his horn behind the wire. More hair tangled in the lower barbs and the big goat made a frightened call for help.
    “Just a minute, boy.” The barbs pricked my skin, but I unwound the long, course hair without ripping.
    He jumped back and scuttled away from the fence.
    “It’s time to set things to rights. I know Pearl thinks she’s helping Grandpa by taking control of the farm, but she’s gone too far.” I walked to the gate, sucking on my pricked fingers. “I’m letting you free, Tater. But next time I drive up the lane and you get in my way, I will not hesitate to ram your thick, dirty hide.”
    He bellowed his thanks, and I left the goat to do some of my own ramming of Pearl’s thick hide.

    Ientered the house, seeking the vixen who had invaded our home and caged the goat I normally loathed. Pearl had taken over the farm kitchen, once Casey’s domain. Chased my brother from his barn full of rusting and gutted vehicles. And stolen the heart of my Grandpa Ed. If that was even possible.
    Maybe stolen his stomach was a better way to look at it.
    Pearl stood at the kitchen counter. The temptress had one hand splayed on a full hip clad in denim capris. The other hand clutched a tape measure. She wore a black tank top and her iron gray hair had a mussed, spiky style. A cut my Grandma Jo would think questionable for a woman of her age. Normally I’d like it, but this was the seducer of my Grandpa.
    Her attention was on the window above the sink, but she turned at my entrance, giving me a view of her boob tattoo and the Harley emblazoned on her tank. “Cherry, what are you doing here?”
    “Never mind that. What’s with that tape measure?”
    “I’m going to make new curtains. I hope you’re not here just looking for a meal.”
    I sucked in my lips and fixed my eyes on the gingham curtains that had hung above the sink as long as I could remember. Considering my siblings and I had been raised in this house after our negligent mother dumped us on our grandparents, those curtains had seen a lot. Which was maybe why they were now stained and faded and the hem had unraveled.
    “We don’t need new curtains,” I said. “Those are just fine.” For some inexplicable reason, changing those curtains felt like Pearl was tearing Grandma Jo right out of the house. Which was ridiculous since Grandma Jo had been buried more than ten years ago.
    We exchanged a long, frosty look broken by the sound of shuffling steps. At the far wall, Grandpa ambled through the living room doorway and eased into a kitchen chair, an expectant look on his thin, leathered face. “Taking a break from haying. I’m ready for my coffee.”
    “Hey Grandpa,” Turning my back on Pearl, I moved to the table and kissed his raspy cheek. “I need to look through our photos.”
    “Photos? I don’t think we have many baby pictures of you.”
    “Not baby pictures. Don’t worry about it, I’m just going to check my bedroom and see if there’s any old snapshots.”
    “Pearl’s been clearing out the back rooms for me. You better ask her.”
    I sucked in my breath and turned on the Pearl. “You’re going through my stuff?”
    Pearl dropped into a kitchen chair with a cup of coffee. She pushed another cup