by Maria Geraci
Travis and I exchange a look. If Dad only knew what was really going on. Even after the events of the past few days I still can’t wrap my head around it. According to Agent Billings, this El Tigre could be anywhere. Maybe he’s even here at church. I discreetly watch as people dip their finger into the holy water and make the sign of the cross on their way out the door, but all I see are familiar faces.
“Are you going to the parish hall for coffee and donuts?” Jim asks us.
“George and I never miss the donuts,” says Mom, “But Lucy needs to go meet her new boyfriend. His name is Mike…what’s his last name again? It’s something Italian. Maybe Travis here can run a background check on him.”
“Lucy has a new boyfriend?” Travis’s green eyes glitter with amusement. “I’d be happy to run a background check. What’s his name? I’ll need his date of birth, too.”
If I could only kick him…
“It’s no big deal,” I say. “Just a first date.”
“Where are you going?”
As if I’d tell him.
I glance at my wristwatch. “Oops! Have to dash. Bye, all!” I scurry away before this turns into the Monty Python version of the Spanish Inquisition.
I drive back to The Bistro, put Paco on his leash and take him for a quick walk. We get back just in time to see a red pickup truck with New Jersey license plates pull into the parking lot.
Mike is wearing jeans and a nice blue button-down shirt. “What’s with all the yellow tape?”
Pretty much everyone in town knows all about the dead body in the dumpster, but Mike isn’t from Whispering Bay, so I feel free to fill him in on what happened.
He whistles low under his breath. “Did you see anything? I mean, do you have any idea who the guy was or who might have done it?”
“Nope,” I lie since I’m not at liberty to discuss this with anyone. “Totally clueless here.”
“I’ve never been this close to a crime scene. Do you mind showing me where you found the body?”
The hairs on my neck feel as if they’ve been plugged into an electric socket. This isn’t Mike’s first rodeo when it comes to crime scenes. He’s seen a dead body before too. I can sense it as clearly as I know my own name. But why lie about it?
I should tell him the area is off limits, but I’m curious to see if he’s going to lie again. “As long as we don’t touch anything, it should be okay.”
We go under the yellow tape and I show him the dumpster. He takes his time, looking things over, walking around the perimeter of the tape.
“Must have been pretty scary, huh? Are you okay?” Then before I can answer, he says, “Sorry, that’s a dumb question.”
My Spidey sense tells me his concern is real.
“I’m okay, but yeah, I was pretty shaken up most of yesterday.”
“How long will The Bistro be closed? Should I cancel this week’s order? Rocko won’t mind. We can reschedule whenever.”
“Actually, we’re reopening tomorrow.”
He looks surprised. “That’s fast.”
Paco barks at Mike to get his attention. “Cute dog. What’s his name?”
“Paco.”
“Hey, Paco.” Mike crouches down to pet him. “Didn’t mean to ignore you there, fella.” Paco allows himself to be petted, then he jumps into the open door of Mike’s truck and stubbornly plants himself in the front seat. He’s giving me his I’m going, and you can’t stop me look.
Mike laughs. “Looks like your dog wants to come along.”
“Paco, get down from there this instant,” I say using my firm voice.
He ignores me and stares straight ahead. He’s never openly defied me before. What’s going on here?
“Paco. Did you hear me? I don’t need a chaperone.”
Mike laughs again like he’s finding the whole situation cute, but frankly, it’s annoying. I mean, I love the little guy but I don’t want him tagging along on my date.
“The Harbor House has an outdoor patio that faces the ocean. I checked it out when I made a delivery there the other day. I’m pretty sure they allow dogs. I don’t mind if he comes if you don’t.”
Paco turns to look at me with an expression that can only be described as smug.
I shouldn’t let him get away with this, but then his eyes go all big and soft on me, and like the chump I am, I give in. “Okay. Just this one time.”
Mike’s cell goes off. “Do you mind if I take this?”
“Sure, go ahead. I’ll wait for you in the truck.”
He turns his back to me to take the call in private.
I get up into the front seat and Paco plops himself down onto my lap smearing dirt onto my flowery dress. Rats. He must have stepped into some mud during our walk. I check out my bag to see if I have anything to wipe it off with. Nope. Maybe Mike keeps paper towels in his glove compartment. I pop it open. There’s no wipes or towels, just a few manuals, and a…gun?
I swallow hard.
Mike keeps a gun in the glove compartment of his pickup truck.
I know a few people who own handguns for protection and plenty who own shotguns for hunting so it shouldn’t surprise me, but I’m still staring at it when he comes back from his call.
“Ready to go?” He follows my gaze.
“Oh! Um, sorry, I wasn’t snooping.” I gesture to the mud stain on my dress. “I was hoping to find something to wipe this off with.”
“No worries.” He calmly reaches across and shuts the glove compartment, then pulls out a clean towel from a gym bag in the back seat. “Here, this should help.”
“Thanks.” I manage to get off most of the dirt. The small bit that’s left blends into the floral pattern of my dress, so it doesn’t look too bad.
“I have a permit for that gun, by the way. In case you’re wondering.”
“I wasn’t, but now that you mention it…” I laugh snort. “I guess driving a delivery truck can be dangerous?”
“So I’ve been told.” He smiles. “Ready for some brunch?”
The Harbor House’s parking lot is full of expensive sports cars, but Mike doesn’t seem fazed. He hands the keys to his slightly dented pickup truck to one of the pimply faced valets and the three of us head into the foyer.
“What a cute dog!” The hostess smiles at Paco. “I’m sorry, but we only allow animals in our outdoor seating section,” she tells us.
“Perfect,” says Mike.
She leads us outside to the patio and low and behold who is sitting at the outdoor bar nursing a beer? Man Bun. Minus Tara, thank goodness because I just don’t think I can put up with her kind of energy right now.
Man Bun looks up from his drink. “Hey.”
“Oh, hi…” I search my brain for his real name—“Wade! No, I’m sorry, it’s Wayne. Right?”
“How’s it going?” he drawls.
I introduce him to Mike. The two men shake hands. “Man—um, Wayne works for the Cooking Channel. He was part of the film crew that was at The Bistro when we found that…surprise in the dumpster.”
“All that work for nothing,” Man Bun (because that’s the only way I can think of him) says glumly. “The cops swiped all our film. They say they’re not giving it back either.”
“What are you still doing in town?”
He hesitates a fraction of a second before saying, “Waiting to hear about my next assignment.”
An odd tingle runs down my spine making my Spidey sense sit up straight. This isn’t exactly a lie, but he’s hiding something. Something big. Something he doesn’t want anyone to know.
“If we could continue this way, please?” The hostess says trying to guide us toward our table.
“Nice seeing you, Wayne,” I say.
He mumbles something that sounds like you too.
We get a table facing the water. Paco, I’m happy to say, is now behaving perfectly. He lays next to my feet and watches the customers and wait staff with an eagle eye. It’s almost as if he’s looking out for me, like a little
bodyguard. I can’t be irritated with him anymore because how cute is that?
“So, this is a nice break, huh?” Mike says after our drinks arrive.
I nod and take a sip of my mimosa. He’s right. Working in the restaurant business, it’s always nice to be on the other side of the table for a change.
“How long have you worked for Rocko?” I ask trying to make conversation. Other than the crime scene lie, Mike seems like a nice enough guy, and this date has only been going on for half an hour, but I can already tell there’s no fizz between us. No chemistry. No gooey feeling in the pit of my stomach like when Travis kissed me…
Nope. Not gonna think about that.
I’m pretty sure Mike feels the same way because he shifts around in his chair like he’s uncomfortable. Or maybe he’s just feeling a bit squished. He really is a big guy.
“I’ve been doing Rocko’s route for about a week now.”
“Oh.” I assumed he’d worked for Rocko longer. “Where did you work before that?”
He shrugs. “Here and there.”
Not exactly a lie, but evasive enough that it makes me curious.
“But you’ve driven a delivery truck before?”
“Not really.” He clears his throat. “Tell me more about your job. Must be fun making cupcakes all day.”
I stifle a moan. “Muffins,” I clarify. “There’s a big difference.”
“Sure, sure,” he says quickly. “Nice being your own boss though, huh?”
“Yes, but it can be stressful too.”
“Like how?” he asks leaning forward in his chair like he’s interested, only I know it’s not me he’s interested in.
“Well, you’re responsible for everything, and then there’s the long hours and the feeling that you’re always behind. And you never really leave work because you’re always thinking about it. That’s one of the reasons Sarah and I decided to close one day a week. We wanted to make sure we didn’t get burned out.”
“Yeah,” he muses, “I guess there’s all that too.”
The server brings us our food. We’re about to dig in when I hear a familiar voice shouting my name across the room.
“Lucy! Thank God I’ve found you!” Without an introduction or even another word, Brittany plops herself down in the empty seat across from me.
“Oh, hi, Brittany. This is—”
“Brittany Kelly, Lucy’s best friend.” She reaches across the table to shake Mike’s hand. “You must be Lucy’s new boyfriend. I’m soooo glad to meet you!”
If only the earth could swallow me whole right now. But I’m not that lucky.
Mike looks confused. “Boyfriend? Oh, I um…”
“Brittany is mixing you up with someone else. So sorry,” I mutter trying to catch Brittany’s eye, but her nonverbal communication skills seem to have gone down the sink today.
“Aren’t you the produce supplier?” she asks.
“Kind of,” he says. “I’m filling in for my Uncle Rocko for a few weeks.”
“So you’re not Lucy’s new boyfriend?”
“Brittany!” I say with a chuckle like this is all some great big misunderstanding. “What are you doing here?”
“This is my Daddy’s restaurant. I’m always here. Well, at mealtimes, anyway.”
“I mean what are you doing here right now?”
“Looking for you, silly. I need you to come with me right away and convince Tara not to leave town. Did you see Wade in the bar? Or is his name Wayne? Whatever it is, I told the manager to give him anything he wants, on the house.”
“I thought we were out of the running for Battle of the Beach Eats.”
“Until it’s formally announced that they’re picking Catfish Cove over us, then hope is still alive. You don’t think I’m going to let something as trivial as a dead body in The Bistro parking lot stop me, do you?”
The couple sitting at the next table turn to look at us. They begin to whisper.
“Keep your voice down,” I hiss. “And it was the dumpster, not the parking lot.”
“Whatever!” She pulls at my arm trying to get me to leave.
“But I haven’t finished my shrimp and scallop omelet yet.”
“Is food all you can think about right now?”
Mike clears his throat. “Maybe we should try this some other time?” he says to me.
“Good idea,” says Brittany.
Mike mumbles an awkward goodbye and leaves some cash on the table before heading out.
“Do you know how rude that was?”
She blinks back a tear. “I’m sorry. I just can’t lose this opportunity with the Cooking Channel. The Chamber of Commerce is depending on me.”
I sigh. Brittany is right. We can’t afford to let an opportunity like this slip away.
“What exactly do you want me to do?”
“I want you to apologize to Tara.”
“Apologize? What for? I didn’t do anything.”
“Lucy, the dead body was found in your restaurant dumpster. Those horrible state CSI people harassed Tara then stole the film from Wade’s camera. Maybe technically it wasn’t your fault, but…” She shrugs.
“Okay, okay, I’ll talk to Tara, although I have no idea what I’m going to say to her or how it might help.”
The server comes by to see if we need anything. “Oh, Miss. Kelly, I didn’t know you were here. Can I get you something?”
“No need, Phil,” Brittany says with a brilliant smile. “Will you please put the tab on the family account?” She points to the cash Mike left on the table. “You can keep that as a tip.”
“Thanks!”
I’m about to ask the server to box up my uneaten omelet but before I can do that Brittany begins snapping off orders again. “Let’s go. We don’t have a second to waste.” She notices Paco at my feet. “Oh! Hello, baby!” Paco wags his tail furiously in response.
Clearly, Brittany isn’t going to leave me alone until I do exactly what she says. “I need to go to the bathroom first. Meet you up front.”
Brittany leaves to get her car from the valet. Since I can’t very well take Paco inside the restaurant, we head toward the outdoor bathroom area. There’s only one stall and it’s unisex. I hope there isn’t a line. I go around the side of the building, but Paco lunges ahead of me causing me to drop his leash.
“Paco! What are you doing?”
I spy him running toward the sandy area behind the restaurant. I hope he isn’t chasing a seagull or some poor helpless turtle. This part of the beach isn’t dog-friendly. The last thing I need on my plate right now is a ticket, so I chase after him, but I’m not used to running in wedge heels. After a few wobbly steps, I stop to take off my shoes. When I look up, he’s gone.
What in the world?
A cold fizzy feeling washes over me. The only time Paco acts like this is when…
No. This can’t be happening. I’m going to think positive here. He might be a ghost whisperer, but he’s also a dog, and dogs get distracted by lots of things. I look toward the shoreline and squint, but I don’t see him.
I trace my steps back to the building. The area outside the bathroom stall is quiet. The door is ajar.
A whimpering sound from inside makes me freeze.
“Paco?”
The whimpering gets louder.
I put my hand on the doorknob to open it all the way when I hear my name again. “There you are!” says Brittany. “I’ve been waiting for you for over five minutes! Haven’t you gone to the bathroom yet?”
I whirl around. “I… I was about to,” I manage to say.
She scowls. “Lucy, we don’t have all day.” Before I can stop her, she flings back the bathroom door.
The first thing I see is Paco, sitting there patiently looking up at me like he’s saying, it’s about time you showed up.
The second thing I see is the dead body. A man. Mid-forties, bald. A bullet right between his eyes.
The third thing I see is Brittany passed out cold on t
he floor next to him.
Chapter Twelve
“Where am I?” Brittany whimpers.
I press a wet paper towel against her forehead. “Are you okay? No, don’t move. You might have hurt yourself when you fainted. I called 911.”
“I fainted?” she asks in a daze. She tries to turn her head so she can look around.
“Stay still. If you get up too fast, you might get woozy again.” I don’t want her to get another glimpse of the dead guy lying just a couple of feet away. Not until there’s someone else here to back me up because I’m pretty sure she’ll either:
A. Scream.
B. Pass out again.
C. Do something else equally as dramatic.
Because let’s face it, she’s Brittany.
Not that I’d blame her if she did any of the above. It’s not every day you come face to face with a mob hit. And that’s exactly what this is. I should know. This is my third one in the last four days.
Because she’s Brittany, she does exactly the opposite of what I tell her to. She turns her head and looks straight into the dead guy’s face, screams, and scrambles as far away from the body as possible.
At least she didn’t pass out again.
Brittany’s screaming causes a crowd to gather around the open stall door. A man, who identifies himself as the restaurant manager, pushes his way through. He takes a look at the dead guy, and for one horrible second, I think he’s going to pass out too. Then he recognizes Brittany.
“Miss Kelly!” He puts a protective arm around her even though I’m pretty sure she’s safe from the guy on the floor. We all are.
Now the cops and the ambulance have arrived. One of the paramedics starts to examine Brittany. Zeke takes one look at me and sighs. “Lucy,” he says shaking his head.
“Not my fault that my dog is gifted when it comes to sniffing out corpses.”
Zeke looks at Paco who wags his tail as if he agrees with me.
It seems like half the Whispering Bay police department is here. Including Travis.
Billings and the suits arrive, pretending to be part of the state’s super-elite CSI team and it’s a repeat of the other day all over again, only thank goodness this time it’s not happening at my café. Now there’s yellow tape all around The Harbor House too. I do my best to answer all of their questions. The way Agent Billings glares at me, you’d think I’m a suspect here.
