Whack The Mole

by Maria Geraci

  “It’s kind of creepy, isn’t it?” I persist, trying to get a rise from him. “We were at The Harbor House eating brunch when some poor guy was getting killed in the bathroom. It’s like I don’t even know what’s going on in Whispering Bay anymore.”

  “It’s scary all right.”

  “You didn’t see anything when you went to get your truck, did you?”

  “Nope.” He continues to munch on his sandwich.

  We’re getting nowhere here.

  “So how much longer do you think you’ll be doing deliveries? Rocko said he broke his leg. How bad is it?”

  “Bad enough to keep him from driving for at least a couple more months.”

  “Funny. I thought you told me he was on vacation.” Let’s see how El Tigre lies his way out of this one.

  Mike lays down his sandwich. “Yeah, about that… I said that because I felt bad on account of I was the one who gave Rocko the broken leg.”

  I gulp. “You did?”

  “He was in my way.” He shrugs.

  Oh my God. Mike broke Rocko’s leg? Why? Because he needed a cover and his uncle wouldn’t go along?

  I’ve got all the evidence I need.

  I look around the kitchen counter.

  Where’s my cell phone? I need to call Travis so I can get him and the feds over here ASAP.

  I spy my phone next to the refrigerator and slowly inch my way toward it. I need to keep El Tigre talking so he doesn’t notice.

  “Good thing you were there to fill in for him. Doing deliveries, I mean.” I’ve got the phone in my hands now. I tap on the screen and discreetly text 911 to Travis. That should work.

  “Yeah, about that. I won’t be doing any more deliveries here, Lucy.”

  “You won’t?”

  “Nah. This was just temporary. I needed something less stressful than my usual job. I just have one last assignment to wrap up, then I’m outta here.”

  I gulp. I know exactly what that one last “assignment” is.

  “So I’m afraid this is goodbye. It was nice meeting you, Lucy.” He gets up to leave. Oh my God. He’s on his way to kill Joey.

  “Hold on!”

  Mike looks startled. “What?”

  “You can’t go just yet. You haven’t…had a cookie! You can’t leave without dessert. It’s the most important part of the meal.”

  He grins. “You want to give me a cookie?”

  “Well I’d offer you a muffin, but we’re all out.”

  Brittany waltzes into the kitchen. “Lucy, what are you doing in here?” She spots Mike and frowns. “This isn’t the time to be making nookie with your boyfriend. Sarah needs your help out there.”

  Mike is about to open his mouth when Tara and Man Bun come up behind Brittany. “Just keep doing what you’re doing!” Tara says. “We want you to act natural and real.”

  Just then, the door leading to the parking lot is kicked open. Travis stands there, flanked by Agent Billings on one side and Agent Rollins on the other. Or is it Agent Parks? Never mind. The important thing is that all three of them have guns. And they’re pointed at Mike.

  “Don’t move!” says Agent Billings. “Everyone, hands in the air!”

  Mike looks shocked, but he does what he’s told.

  Well that was easy. I thought El Tigre would put up more of a fight.

  Agent Billings points her gun at Tara and Man Bun. “You too. Hands in the air.”

  Man Bun throws his hands up and in the process drops his camera. It falls on the tile floor with a loud shatter. “I swear, I only smoke it medicinally.”

  “Wade! What kind of idiot are you?” Tara screeches. “Do you know how much that camera cost?”

  “For the last time, my name is Wayne!”

  Tara looks as shocked as Mike. “When did you change your name to Wayne?”

  “What’s happening?” Brittany whimpers but nobody has time to answer her question right now.

  “Are you okay?” Travis asks me.

  That’s him,” I say pointing to Mike. “He’s El Tigre. He practically admitted it to me just now.”

  Mike’s eyes bulge out. “El what?”

  Agent Billings keeps her gun aimed at Mike’s head. “Rollins, frisk him.” She cocks her head at Tara and Man Bun. “Fontaine, keep an eye on those other two. They seem harmless, but you never know.”

  “He’s clean,” says Rollins. He pulls a wallet from the back pocket of Mike’s jeans.

  “Check his ID,” she orders.

  “Who are you clowns?” Mike says, sneering. “Because you’ve just made a big mistake.

  “The only mistake was yours when you decided to mess with the feds,” I say. “And with me. No one leaves a dead body in my dumpster and gets away with it.”

  “The feds?”

  “That’s right. The feds as in the Federal Bureau of Investigation. The gig is up, El Tigre.”

  “Stop calling me that stupid name!” he roars.

  Agent Rollins clears his throat, “Ma’am?” he says addressing his boss. He holds up Mike’s wallet. “According to the driver’s license this man’s name is Michael Armandi. There’s another piece of ID too. Says he’s a member of the Jersey City police force. Homicide Division.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “That’s impossible,” I say. “Mike Armandi is El Tigre. He has to be.”

  “If you call me that one more time—”

  Agent Billings puts a hand in the air. “Hold on, everyone.” She looks at me. “Fontaine here said you sent him a 911 message. Did this guy,” she indicates Mike, “try to hurt you?”

  “Hurt me? Well, no not yet.”

  “Unbelievable,” Mike mutters.

  “Did he confess to being El Tigre?” she demands to know.

  Brittany stomps her foot. “Who is this El Tigre? I insist that someone explain everything at once! I’m a member of the Whispering Bay Chamber of Commerce, and as a representative of the city I have to say this has all been completely unacceptable.”

  Agent Billings gives Brittany a look that shuts her up fast. “Check out that ID,” she snaps at Rollins. He takes off like a man on a mission.

  The door to the kitchen opens again. This time it’s Sarah. She takes everything in, including the gun that Agent Billings is still holding on Mike. “Oh my.” Her gaze darts between mine and Travis’s.

  “I can explain.” For the first time, I’m beginning to feel uncertain. Homicide Division? No, that ID has to be a fake. If Mike was a cop why didn’t he tell me before? Why is he here delivering restaurant supplies and offering to take out people’s nasty smelling trash?

  Fifteen minutes later we’re all still in the kitchen, waiting. Travis went out to the dining area to inform the customers that no one can leave and that we’re on lockdown. I can just imagine how well that’s going over.

  After what seems like an eternity, Agent Rollins comes through the door. “Armandi’s credentials have all checked out.”

  “Damn right they did.” He turns to Agent Billings, his eyes gloating. “Want to put the gun down now?”

  She hesitates just a second, then lowers the gun. “What’s the deal?” she asks Rollins.

  “According to the chief in Jersey City, Armandi is on a paid leave of absence. He spent six months working a case involving a drug-related murder. Says the case really did a number on his head and he was down here in Florida for some R&R.” He glances at Mike. “Says you’re one of his best and he expects you back soon.”

  What? No.

  I whirl around to face El Tigre…er, I mean Mike. “But…you broke your uncle’s leg! You said so yourself!”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You said you broke his leg because he got in your way!”

  “Yeah, playing football. We were supposed to be playing a friendly game of touch, but I got carried away and I tackled him. I feel awful about it too. Pops was going to take over Rocko’s route, but it was a lot of work, so I offered to help.”

  �
��Oh. I see.” My voice sounds little. I wish I could make the rest of me little too or better yet disappear. Preferably to Siberia or somewhere else far away.

  “So the gun…yes, yes, it makes sense now. But why did you lie to me about never being near a crime scene?”

  “Because I didn’t want to get into the whole cop thing. My chief was right. That last case messed me up. I even thought about quitting the force. Coming down here and opening a diner or something.” He does a double take. “Wait. How did you know I lied about never being at a crime scene?”

  Everyone turns to look at me.

  Oops. I shouldn’t have let that slip.

  “Um, lucky guess?”

  “Who is this El Tigre?” Mike asks. “I think I have a right to know.”

  “No, you don’t. You can go now,” says Agent Billings. “Please accept the Bureau’s apology for the misunderstanding.”

  “Yeah, whatever,” he says, clearly disgusted.

  Agent Rollins hands him back his wallet with a shrug. Mike goes to leave, but before he gets to the door, he turns to look at us. “To think, I actually thought about relocating to this crazy town. No, thanks, give me Jersey City any day.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I rush to say. “Please forgive me. It was just a big misunderstanding.”

  He looks at me like I’m a bug he wished he could squash but doesn’t want to waste the energy. “Next time you get the urge to play detective, go make some cupcakes instead.”

  Muffins, not cupcakes! I want to say, but I don’t think that will go over very well right now.

  Travis and Zeke manage to control the guests in the dining room. As far as our customers know, the “super-elite state CSI team” had a breakthrough in the murder of the guy found in our dumpster and they needed everyone to stay put while they checked it out. Now that the situation has been resolved, everyone is free to go. Will and the library crew are the first to leave, but not until he makes me promise to call him as soon as I get a chance.

  Everyone else leaves one by one, including mom and dad and all their friends. Mom insists that I come to dinner tonight and for once, I’m not going to argue. It will be nice to be around people who actually like me, as opposed to everyone who was in the kitchen when I accused Mike of being a mafia hitman. None of whom are very happy with me right now, except Sarah, who is always so supportive and upbeat. And Paco, of course. But he’s a dog, and he’d love anyone who fed him, so he doesn’t count.

  “It’s an innocent mistake. It could have happened to anyone,” says Sarah, trying her best to console me.

  How could I have thought Mike was El Tigre?

  I’ll never forget the look on his face when he walked out. I should have listened to Will and left this to the professionals instead of always thinking that I know more than anyone.

  Since Sarah, Brittany, Tara, and Man Bun were all present in the kitchen when the action went down, they know that the secret elite team is really the FBI. Agent Billings and her crew grilled them on what they saw and made them promise not to tell anyone on penalty of “extreme repercussions.” Tara threatened to sue them, but that just made them all laugh.

  She gathers her things in a huff. “C’mon, Wade, let’s get out of here. We’re going to Catfish Cove.”

  “For the last time, it’s Wayne! And you can go yourself, you ridiculous cow, because I quit!”

  The look on Tara’s face is almost funny. “You can’t quit.”

  “Sure I can. I just got the call. I’m getting my old job back at the public access channel. You can stick your cable channel where the sun don’t shine!” He picks up the pieces of his broken camera, then stomps out the door.

  Tara takes off after him, and Brittany runs after them both. “Wait! Does this mean Whispering Bay is out of the running for Battle of the Beach Eats?”

  Brittany comes back a few minutes later looking defeated. “Well, that’s that.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say cringing as I wait for Brittany to blame me for all this.

  But instead of chiding me and telling me this is all my fault she does something worse. She blinks back tears and hugs me. “Everyone is right. I’m a disaster. The only reason I got the chamber of commerce job is because of Daddy. And now I’ve let everyone down. I have no idea how I’m going to justify buying all those door wreaths!”

  “You’re not a disaster,” I say firmly. “You’ve worked your butt off for this town. The chamber of commerce is lucky to have you.”

  She wipes the tears from her cheeks. “You’re only saying that because you’re my best friend.”

  “Well…” I try to think of something to console her, but I’m not as good at this as Sarah.

  Brittany leaves to go back to work and try to salvage her budget, and since we’ve driven away all our customers, Sarah and Jill take off as well. That leaves just me, the cops and the FBI.

  Agent Billings is in the middle of chastising me for jumping to conclusions and creating a lot of trouble. And just when I think that my day couldn’t possibly get any worse. It does.

  Agent Parks comes up to us with an expression of total and utter fear. He’s holding a clear baggie in his hand. “I’m sorry to interrupt, ma’am, but I thought you might want to see this.” He holds up the baggie. There’s a button inside. “We found this in the parking lot about two feet from the dumpster. We’ve just verified it’s a button from the shirt Rinaldi was wearing when he was murdered.”

  “El Tigre’s signature clue. Okay, so today hasn’t been a total waste then. Let’s get the footage off the camera in the parking lot and see what we’re dealing with.”

  Agent Parks clears his throat. “That’s just it, ma’am, I’m afraid someone disabled that camera.”

  “Disabled it?” The disbelief on her face mirrors my own.

  “How did they do that?” I ask.

  “Not they,” she says tightly. “He. While we were in the kitchen listening to your nonsensical rantings, the real El Tigre was out here making fools of us all.”

  “But—”

  “C’mon,” Agent Billings snaps at her people, “we have less than eight hours to get out of here.”

  “Where are you going?” I ask.

  “To take Joey somewhere safe. Which means as far away from Whispering Bay as possible.”

  If I thought Mike was disgusted, that was nothing in comparison to the way Agent Billings looks at me. It’s like I’m a wad of gross sticky gum stuck beneath her favorite shoe.

  “I have no idea how you caught The Angel of Death. You must have bumbled your way into solving that. From now on, McGuffin, do the United States a favor and stay away from Bureau business before you take the entire country down with you. Got it?”

  Chapter Nineteen

  I told Brittany she wasn’t a disaster and I was right.

  I’m the disaster.

  Now that everyone’s gone I’m lying on my living room couch feeling sorry for myself. Paco is snuggled next to me. He gives me a look that’s different from all the other looks I’ve cataloged so far. I’ve decided to call this the Don’t Cry, Lucy look because his brown eyes are pleading with me telling me that it’s all going to be okay. Intellectually I know that’s true. I’ll live this down eventually. In about another ten years or so.

  I thought going to my parents for dinner would be a good idea, but I can’t face them just yet so I call Will and tell him I’m coming over.

  He’s waiting with a big chocolate bar for me and a bone for Paco. Paco greedily snatches the bone and takes it off into the corner of the living room, but I’m not in the mood for chocolate or anything else. I’ve never gotten the concept of being too distressed to eat before, but I totally get it now.

  “Are you sick?” Will teases when I turn down the chocolate.

  Since he was part of the group in the dining area that’s oblivious to what went down in the kitchen, I fill him in on everything. How I accused a Jersey City homicide detective of being a ruthless hitman and all the while, El Ti
gre got the best of everyone.

  “You told me not to do, but did I listen? No.”

  “Sure you don’t want that chocolate? I’ve got whiskey too.”

  “No thanks.”

  “C’mon, Lucy, none of this is your fault.”

  “Then who’s fault is it?”

  “The FBI’s. They should have never involved you in this. It was unprofessional of them.”

  “I feel like I let everyone down. Including Brittany. I was hoping we still had a shot at the Cooking Channel show. I just…” I shake my head. “I don’t know, it’s all those lies Mike told. They totally threw me in the wrong direction.”

  Will studies me a minute. “Have you ever thought that maybe your ability to tell when someone’s lying could actually be a hindrance?”

  Just all the time.

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “If you didn’t know that Mike had lied to you would you have been so suspicious of him?”

  I think about Will’s question. To be fair, the answer is probably no.

  “You’re right. As usual.”

  “Don’t take it so hard. Like I said, this isn’t your fault.”

  I have to admit Will is making me feel just the teeniest bit better.

  “So how’s work?” I ask because I don’t want this to always be about me.

  “Busy. I’m writing up a grant that will hopefully let us update our computer system.”

  “Sounds boring.”

  “It is.”

  “Why don’t you get someone else to write the grant? Like Sally. She’s pretty sharp, isn’t she?”

  “Yeah, but she’s going on a leave of absence.”

  “Where to? She just got here.”

  “Wyoming. Her dad’s sick, and she’s the only family he’s got left.”

  “That’s too bad. I really like her.”

  “Hopefully she’ll be back.”

  “Maybe we can give her a going away party? I could make muffins.”

  Will chuckles.

  I’m starting to feel hungry, which is a good sign. I check the time. We still have an hour before my parents expect us. “How do you think El Tigre was able to disable those cameras?”