by Maria Geraci
I shouldn’t be surprised that Sally already knows about the dead body at The Harbor House. After all, this is Whispering Bay.
“I was there eating brunch.”
“With Will?”
“No, with…someone else.”
“Really? Please don’t tell me you were on a date with that hunky Travis. I called dibs on him, remember?” she teases.
“Not Travis. It was someone else.”
“You’ve surprised me, Lucy. I could have sworn…never mind.”
“What?”
She stops and looks at me. “I know I haven’t been in town long, and we don’t know each other all that well, but I thought you and Will had something going.”
“Me and Will?” I do the laugh snort thing. “No, no, no. We’re just friends.”
Sally shakes her head sadly. “Life is too short, Lucy. You should tell Will how you feel. You might just be surprised to find that he feels the same way too.” Her smart watch beeps. “Oops. This thing is telling me I need to start running again.” She begins jogging in place. “Let’s grab a cup of coffee soon, okay?”
Chapter Sixteen
That’s two people in the last twenty-four hours who have told me I need to tell Will how I feel. I admit I was startled by how easily Sally figured it out. But I can’t think about that right now. I have more important matters at hand. Like how I’m going to save my town’s rep and get us back in the Cooking Channel’s good graces.
I stayed up half the night formulating my plot to catch El Tigre, and I’ve come up with the perfect solution. My plan is beautiful in its simplicity. All I have to do is get Mike to come to The Bistro (not difficult since he’s doing our deliveries). We aren’t due for another three days, but I’ll make something up. An emergency or whatever. He will of course jump at the chance to come here because it gives him the perfect opportunity to leave his signature clue. The feds will get it on tape and bada-bing bada-boom, he’s toast.
It’s brilliant. Even if I say so myself.
At exactly five a.m. I email Rocko.
Disaster! Our flour batch is filled with bugs. Is there any way you can get Mike to deliver some STAT this morning? Thanks!
There. That ought to do it.
Of course, our flour is perfectly fine, but I toss it anyway because if Mike comes and sees it, he’ll immediately become suspicious and who knows what someone named El Tigre might do if he feels cornered? I certainly don’t want to find out.
Since Sarah can’t know what’s going on, I keep up the pretense with her as well. “Bugs? In our flour?” She makes a disgusted face. “Do you think it’s a problem with the vendor or do we have an infestation in our pantry?”
Rats. I hadn’t thought that far. It would be unfair to blame the vendor. And I’m not about to let poor Sarah clean out our pantry. Not when it’s already meticulously clean.
“I think it was just a freak one-time thing,” I say. “It’s not all bad. We had enough untainted flour that I was able to make a few dozen muffins, so we’re not totally out. Just mostly out.” After all, I don’t want everyone in town to suffer.
“Sorry you had to deal with that, Lucy. Hopefully, Mike will be able to work us into his delivery route this morning.”
“Oh, I’m sure he will,” I say confidently.
We open at exactly seven and one by one our regular customers start filing in.
“What do you mean you’re out of blueberry muffins?” asks Victor. I forgot that on Mondays he and some of his pals from the Sunshine Ghost Society come in for breakfast and talk about what sightings they’ve seen over the weekend. And they all love the boring blueberry. I wish I’d thought to make some of those.
“We have lemon poppy seed and pumpkin spice,” I offer. I also have some double chocolate chip stashed away, in case of a muffin emergency, but this doesn’t qualify.
Before Victor can tell me which kind he wants, the door opens and in walk the last two people on earth I want to see today.
Tara and Man Bun.
I freeze. What are they doing here?
“Don’t mind us!” Tara says, “We’re here to get more footage.”
Man Bun aims his camera at me. “Smile,” he says like he hates his job.
“What’s going on?”
“The main honchos over at the network want me to recoup the footage we lost on Saturday on the slim chance Whispering Bay gets picked up for the show. Kind of ironic, huh? We told you we’d be here Monday and here we are. Surprise! Just keep doing what you’re doing. Pretend we’re not here.”
Victor raps his knuckles on the counter to get my attention. “My order, remember?”
“Yes, of course. So what’ll it be? Lemon poppy seed or pumpkin spice?”
“Neither. I want blueberry. You always have those available.”
“Sorry, we had a crisis with our flour this morning.”
“What kind of crisis?” demands Phoebe Van Cleave.
“We’re…out of it.”
“Out of flour?” She scowls. “Sounds like poor planning on someone’s part.”
“I thought I saw your delivery guy here just the other day. Just how much flour do you people use?” Victor asks.
“I had to toss it.”
“Toss it? Why what was wrong with it?”
Oh boy. I probably shouldn’t have said that. No way am I going to give them the same excuse I gave Rocko and tell them that I found bugs in the flour, especially when it isn’t true. They might think the whole place is infested. Knowing Phoebe, she’d probably sic the health department on us. Not to mention bugs in the flour wouldn’t go over well with the producers on the Cooking Channel.
I grab at the first excuse I can think of for throwing out food. “The flour was expired. Yes, that’s it. Must have been a mistake with the supplier. And since here at The Bistro we’re committed to using only the freshest of ingredients, we had to toss it. No flour. No muffins. Can’t make muffins without the flour!”
“You’re back to that old excuse, huh?” says Betty Jean. I hadn’t noticed her standing in line.
Phoebe looks at me suspiciously. “How long have you people been serving food made with outdated ingredients?”
“What? I never said—”
“That explains the stomachache I had last week,” says Victor, going pale. “I was here on three separate days and each time I had a muffin. I should have made the connection.”
“Do you think the guy in the dumpster ate one of your muffins?” someone asks in a horrified voice. “Could that be what killed him?”
Oh, for the love of… It’s like they’ve turned into a muffin mob. Clearly, I didn’t think my plan all the way through.
I’m saved from responding to this ridiculousness when Rusty and Travis walk through the door because everyone turns to shower them with questions. All of them variations of when they’ll catch the mysterious “Whispering Bay Killer.” If they would just wait patiently till the end of the day, they’ll get their answer.
Rusty and Travis work their way to the counter.
This is the first time I’ve seen Travis since he gave me his unsolicitous relationship advice about Will. I can’t help but feel self-conscious. And even though the surveillance equipment has been in place since yesterday evening, seeing Travis and Rusty reminds me that we’re being watched.
Travis glares at Tara. “What’s she doing here?”
“Taking more footage.”
Rusty puffs his chest out for Man Bun’s camera. “Russel Newton, Whispering Bay police deputy here, placing an order.” He tips his hat to me in greeting. “Hey, Lucy. We’ll be needing five lattes, three breakfast sandwiches, a dozen muffins and throw in some cookies too if you have them.”
“Lucy’s out of muffins,” says Victor.
“No, I told you, I have pumpkin spice and lemon poppy seed.”
“Just give us whatever you have,” says Travis.
Betty Jean growls at him. “I’ll take whatever you have.”
&
nbsp; Travis chuckles. Even though he’s only been in a town a few weeks, he’s getting used to Betty Jean’s shenanigans.
“Not sure I’d take those muffins if I were you,” Victor says, “they’re made with bad flour.”
Travis frowns. “What?”
I blow out a frustrated breath. “The flour is perfectly good. I just…threw out some expired flour is all. I never baked anything with it.”
At that exact same moment, Sarah comes out the door that adjoins the kitchen and the dining area to refill the coffee station. “I thought you said the flour had bugs in it.”
Everyone within hearing distance stills.
Sarah’s face goes red as she realizes what she’s just said.
“Bugs!” Betty Jean makes a gagging sound.
“No, no bugs,” Sarah says quickly backtracking. “I was talking about something else. My bad!” She catches my gaze and winces in apology.
“Nice try,” says Phoebe, “but it’s not gonna work.” She gathers Victor and the other members of her group. “C’mon let’s go find somewhere else to eat breakfast.”
“Let us know when you get the place cleaned up,” Victor yells on his way out the door. “And next time, make sure you have blueberry muffins!”
“What was that all about?” Travis asks suspiciously.
“You know the Sunshine Ghost Society.” I twirl my finger around in a circle next to my ear making the universal crazy sign. I’m not sure Travis buys it, though.
“Are there really bugs in your flour?” Tara asks. Man Bun zeroes in for a close up of my face. “Because we have another show you might qualify for. It’s called Dirtiest Kitchens in America. Don’t let the name put you off. There’s no such thing as bad publicity! You’d be surprised how many people will still want to come and eat here. Especially if you win.”
“There are absolutely no bugs in our flour,” I announce firmly.
I get Rusty’s order ready, tossing in a couple of the stashed away double chocolate chip muffins for Joey since I know they’re his favorite.
“See anything unusual this morning?” Travis asks in a low voice as I hand him the bag.
“Not yet, but I’m expecting things to look up soon.”
“Why don’t I like the sound of that?”
“Don’t worry. I have everything under control.”
“Now I’m really worried. What are you up to?”
“Let’s just say I have a feeling that by the end of the day, all will be revealed.
The next couple of hours go by at a snail’s pace. Good thing this is Jill’s day off because there’s barely enough business to keep Sarah and me busy. I hope Victor and his gang haven’t been running around town spreading rumors about my muffins.
By ten o’clock, there’s still no sign of Mike and his delivery truck. Even though business has been slow, I’ve sold all our muffins, including the double chocolate chip I had on reserve. I probably shouldn’t have been so hasty tossing out all that flour, but I thought Mike would have been here by now. I practically declared a state of emergency in my email to Rocko. What do I have to say to these people to get them to bring me my flour?
I’m about to give Rocko a call when Brittany shows up. But instead of freaking out because Tara is here filming, she seems perfectly poised, like she was expecting this.
“Tara!” Brittany smiles and waves to her.
“Act like we’re not here!” Tara shouts from across the room.
Brittany does a double take of the dining area. “Where is everyone? It’s usually packed this time of day.”
“Yeah, well, we’re out of muffins.”
“What? How can you be out of muffins?”
Man Bun lays down his camera. “It’s on account of the bugs in the flour.”
Brittany’s jaw drops.
“How many times do I have to say this. There are no bugs in the flour!”
Brittany marches around the counter and pulls me off to the side. “Lucy, what’s going on? Do you know how hard I worked to get Tara interested in Whispering Bay again? Do not blow this for me. Do something! This place is like a tomb.”
“Don’t worry. Everything is fine.” Only it isn’t. Nothing is working out according to my big plan. And Brittany is right. The Bistro looks sad and empty. We look like losers. “I have an idea.”
I make a phone call to Will at the library.
“What’s up?” he answers.
“I need you to come to The Bistro and order something and eat it in the dining area. And…bring some friends. Call Sebastian and anyone else who you think might come.”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“Just do it. Please. The sooner the better.”
Will sighs. “Okay.”
It’s times like this when I’m grateful to have Will for a best friend. Within an hour The Bistro is packed. Will brings over half the library staff, including Sally. Sebastian is here too along with the receptionist from St. Perpetua’s. Mom has brought her entire bridge club, and Dad’s golf league just walked through the door.
Sarah and I fill orders as fast as we can. We have to call Jill to come in extra. Even Brittany has pitched in. She’s got on an apron, and she’s running around the dining area refilling everyone’s coffee. I know it’s because she’s trying to make a good impression on Tara, but it’s still nice of her to help.
I head down the hallway that leads to the pantry to grab some more supplies when I run into Sally, which is odd because this area is off limits to customers.
She looks flustered. “I just realized I’ve been here at least half a dozen times and I’ve never gone to the restroom. Can you point me in the right direction?”
Ouch! The little hairs on my neck feel like they’ve been electrocuted. Sally has definitely been to the bathroom here before, but why on earth would she lie about it? It seems silly to lie about something so benign. Maybe she’s one of those persons who have no sense of direction and she’s embarrassed to admit it.
“You’re not the first person to get lost. It’s on the other side of the dining area, next to the dolphin mural.”
“Thanks, Lucy!”
I get the supplies from the pantry and am about to restock under the counter when I spot the big Armandi’s delivery truck pull into our parking lot.
My heart starts thumping wildly.
It’s officially show time.
Chapter Seventeen
Sarah takes over at the counter so I can run back to the kitchen to greet Mike. I wave from the door and motion for him to park along the back.
He brings in a pallet filled with flour. “Hey, Lucy,” he says all friendly. It’s disgusting how a person can be so evil yet seem so innocent. But I can’t let on how I really feel about him.
“Boy am I glad to see you.”
“Sorry I couldn’t get here earlier, but I had to work you in. I had a pretty big route this morning. Rocko says you got bugs in your flour?” He heaves two big bags up on my counter. “He feels lousy about it. Called the supplier first thing this morning and chewed him out.”
Oh dear. After this is over I’m going to have to send an apology letter to our supplier. I should probably send along a dozen of my apple walnut cream cheese muffins too. That always seems to make everyone happy.
Paco runs into the kitchen, takes one look at Mike and wiggles up to him practically begging to be petted. “Hey, pooch.” Mike crouches down to scratch him behind the ears. Paco responds by licking his face. If only Paco could see into Mike’s dark soul. I thought my dog was more intuitive than this. Apparently, Paco’s skills only work on dead people.
“I appreciate you coming over,” I say carefully.
“Not a problem.” He refills our pantry with more of the flour bags that he pulls out from the delivery truck. I turn my back, pretending like I’m busy giving him plenty of opportunity to wander over to the dumpster to leave his signature clue.
When he’s done, he offers me the invoice. The words NO CHARGE are stamped in big
red letters at the bottom of the paper, but I can’t sign this because of course, this isn’t the supplier’s fault.
“We need to redo this invoice. We insist on paying for the flour.”
“The invoice stays as is. Rocko says he’ll shoot me if you don’t sign.”
Oh boy. The whole family is deranged.
“Do you have time for a cup of coffee?” I ask trying to keep my voice from shaking. When I came up with this plan it seemed so simple, but I didn’t think about the fact that I was going to have to be alone with El Tigre in my kitchen. I need to calm my nerves and act natural.
“Thanks, I’d love one. I haven’t taken my lunch break so I got some time to kill.”
Yeah, among other things.
“How about a sandwich? Turkey okay?”
“I don’t want to put you to any trouble.”
“No trouble at all. Sarah and I appreciate you making a special trip.”
He takes the food and sits on a stool by the counter. “I’m glad I got this chance to see you. I heard things got a little crazy after I left The Harbor House.”
I’ll say.
“You heard about the body in the bathroom?”
He nods. “It was in the Panama City papers.”
The skin on the back of my neck erupts into goosebumps. Mike didn’t find out about Eddie “The Hatchet” O’Leary getting whacked from any newspaper. He knew about it firsthand.
“Paco and I were the ones who found the body.”
He looks up from his sandwich. “Yeah, I heard about that too.”
“You did?”
“The cops came to ask a few questions.” He looks at me.
“Um, yeah, when they questioned me they asked who else had been at my table, so I gave them your name.” I pause. “I hope it didn’t freak you out, seeing a bunch of cops at your door.”
Mike snorts. “Not likely.”
He’s a cool one all right. He probably thinks himself soooo above the local cops.
“You know, this murder at The Harbor House appears similar to the murder of the guy I found in the dumpster.”
Mike doesn’t say anything. Instead, he takes a bite of his sandwich.
