Venus in Blue Jeans Read Free Page B

looked at her puny collection.
    A sharp tapping brought her head up. Docia glanced at the front door and jumped, spilling coffee onto her hand. Someone was leaning against the glass panel, peering in.
    Next to the cash register, Nico jerked upright, yellow eyes wide.
    “We’re not open yet,” Docia called, grabbing a paper towel to sop up the coffee.
    “Aw, now, Ms. Kent,” the door-leaner called back, “you ain’t gonna make me wait here for an hour, are you?”
    Docia sighed and started toward the door. Dub Tyler. And he would stand there for an hour if she didn’t let him in, probably smearing up the glass while he did. “Just a minute, Dub.”
    She clicked the lock back, opening the door so that Dub could slip inside.
    One of the town police cruisers was idling across the street. Clete Morris stuck his head out the window. “Everything okay there, Ms. Kent?”
    “Yes, thanks. No problems.” Docia closed the door again, locking it.
    “Don’t worry.” Dub grinned. “I won’t tell anybody. Wouldn’t want people thinkin’ they could get in here all hours of the day and night, now, would you?”
    “No, I certainly wouldn’t,” Docia snapped. “What can I do for you, Dub?”
    Dub scratched his bald spot, his slightly faded blue gaze darting around the shop. He wore the same washed-out plaid shirt and rumpled khaki slacks as usual. Docia wondered if he bought them in bulk.
    She had no idea how old he was, but she’d guess on the far side of seventy. She probably outweighed him by thirty pounds, and she was at least six inches taller.
    Which didn’t make him a fragile old man. Just her luck the one long-time Konigsburger who’d been willing to visit the shop had the ethics of an Enron executive.
    Dub’s expression changed to something resembling Foxy Grampa. Whatever he was going to come up with, Docia knew she wouldn’t like it.
    “Got a proposition for you. Need you to hold a package for a while. I’ll give you a five percent commission when I sell it.” Dub rubbed a hand across the silvery stubble on his chin.
    “What kind of package?” Docia put her hands on her hips. “What exactly are we talking about here?”
    Dub shook his head. “Not unless you agree to hold on to it for me. Then I’ll tell you. Maybe.”
    Docia exhaled an annoyed breath and started back toward the front counter. “What is this—Pirates of the Caribbean? A map to buried treasure? Why not just keep it at your place?”
    “Security.” Dub smiled blandly, walking alongside her, his boot heels clicking. “Don’t have enough security around my house. You got good locks here, right?”
    “So buy some security,” Docia snapped. “God knows you can afford it with all the stuff you sell. You’re one of the biggest Texana dealers in the state.” She scooted Nico out of the way so that she could lean against the counter again. Nico muttered something that sounded uncomplimentary.
    “Aw, come on, Ms. Kent.” Dub’s voice rose to a thin wheedle. “It’s not like I’m askin’ you to do much. Just hold onto a package.”
    Docia frowned. There was absolutely no good reason to get into this except curiosity. “How big?”
    “Not big.” Dub spread his hands a foot apart, sketching a rough square. “All folded up. Doesn’t take up much space at all.”
    No good reason, Docia, none . “How long would you leave it?”
    “Few days, maybe a week. Just ’til I close the sale.”
    Dub was smiling cheerfully again, blue eyes twinkling. If she hadn’t known him very well, she’d think he was a charming old coot. Charming, my ass.
    Docia refolded her arms across her chest. “I’m not holding anything unless you tell me what it is first. And I’m not helping you with anything that isn’t legit, Dub.”
    Dub’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe it’s better if you don’t know what it is. Safer for you, I mean.”
    “Safer?” Docia frowned. “Safer from what? What’s this all about?”
    Dub shrugged, his eyes