Ruby Redfort Take Your Last Breath Read Free Page B

clothes: jeans, sneakers, and a T-shirt printed with the words honk if you’re happy, hoot if you’re not, toot if you couldn’t care less and scooted down the stairs two at a time. Mrs. Digby and Hitch were already in the kitchen and discussing the avian invasion.
    “So what is that?” asked Ruby, sliding into her chair. “Some kind of bird-banishing gizmo?”
    “Works on the same principle as a dog whistle. It emits a sound that humans can’t hear and birds can’t stand,” replied Hitch, tucking the device into his shirt pocket.
    Ruby was impressed — not a bad gadget to have up your sleeve when the wildlife went wild.
    “I might have to get myself one of those,” said Mrs. Digby. “Where’d ya buy it — SmartMart?”
    “Well, they do say SmartMart’s the smart place to shop!” said Hitch, quoting the store’s tagline.
    “Well, all I can say, child,” said Mrs. Digby earnestly, “is that it’s just as well your parents ain’t here to see this. Your mother would have a three-cornered fit if she witnessed what those critters have done to her sheets.”
    Mr. and Mrs. Redfort were currently away — as they so often were — this time on a mini cruise that was taking them and the local historical society around Twinford’s coast. Dora Shoering was giving a series of on board lectures about the smugglers’ caves, the famous Twinford shipwrecks, and various other seafarers’ legends.
    “Don’t you give those sheets a second thought, Mrs. D.” said Hitch. “I’ll get the laundry service to pick up the linen — no need for you to waste your valuable energy on that.”
    “Shucks and fiddlesticks,” said Mrs. Digby. Which didn’t really mean anything, but often translated as,
If you insist
.
    It had been less than two months since Hitch had joined the Redforts as house manager (or butler, as Sabina Redfort preferred to think of him) but to look at Mrs. Digby you might have thought he had been there always. She had accepted him at once and woe betide anyone who said a bad word about him. As far as she was concerned, he was the best darned butler, house manager (or whatever else he wanted to call himself) this side of anywhere.
    Of course, what Mrs. Digby didn’t know was that Hitch was actually an undercover agent, sent by Spectrum to protect and work alongside Ruby. She had no idea that the butlering was just a cover — that really would have impressed her.
    But it was a Spectrum imperative that Mrs. Digby should never know, never even suspect, that this alarmingly attractive man might not be all that he seemed. Although Ruby and Hitch had got off to a somewhat rocky start, they made a dynamic team. LB had seen this: she was a smart woman, and she knew that unflinching loyalty was what made a good agent, and agents who were loyal to each other made for a solid agency.
    “So,” said Hitch to Ruby. “How are you going to get yourself in and out of trouble today?”
    “I’m not,” said Ruby. “I’m gonna lie low, take it easy, probably hang out with Clancy.”
    She went over to where the kitchen phone sat, picked up the receiver, and dialed a number she had dialed approximately several thousand times.
    “Hey, bozo, meet me, usual place, just as soon as.” She replaced the receiver.
    “And they say the art of conversation is dead,” commented Hitch, shaking out the newspaper.
    Mrs. Digby looked at Ruby and shook her head. “It’s a crying shame,” she said. “All life’s good manners and fine etiquette gone to pot. I tried to raise this child a nice child, but I probably got to accept failure here.”
    “Ah, Clance don’t mind,” said Ruby. Which was true: Clancy Crew was Ruby Redfort’s closest friend, and they understood each other without words — though that said, they spent most of their time “nonstop yacking” as Mrs. Digby would often comment.
    For this reason there was very little Clancy Crew didn’t know about Ruby Redfort, though another reason was that it was