by Maria Geraci
Destin is a resort town about thirty miles away. How on earth did Abby end up with this dog?
“No answer,” Lanie says. She leaves a message with information on how to contact her. Lanie rubs Paco behind the ears, and he practically melts in her hand. “Hopefully, his owner will call back soon. But in the meantime, little guy, what do you say? Want to stay here and play?”
“Stay here?”
“Sure. I mean, you can’t take him, on account of your allergies. Right?”
“Right.” Last night was miserable. I could keep taking the Benadryl, but I hate how groggy it makes me feel.
“Heard anything from Muffin Wars?” Lanie asks.
“Not yet.”
“You will. No one makes muffins the way you do.” She puts a leash on Paco. “Say good-bye to Lucy, Paco.”
“Are you sure he’ll be okay? I mean, he’s been traumatized. He was with Abby when she…you know, died. Is there a pet psychologist that can come see him?”
Lanie tries to hide her smile. “Don’t worry. He’ll be fine.” She takes a long look at Paco. “I don’t know anyone named Susan Van Dyke, but now that I look at him more closely, I swear I’ve seen this dog before. I’m just not sure where.”
“If he needs anything, anything at all just let me know.” I wave to him one last time. He looks at me with the saddest eyes. I hope he doesn’t think I don’t want him. I don’t know a lot about dogs, but I can tell he’s special. Regardless of Officer Fontaine’s skepticism, Paco did lead me to find Abby’s body.
6
Every Monday the “top people” as they call themselves from the Sunshine Ghost Society meet at The Bistro for breakfast. Phoebe Van Cleave is the first to arrive. It occurs to me that I never saw Phoebe or anyone else from the society after Abby’s body was discovered, so I never got a chance to offer my condolences.
I hand her a coffee. “I’m so sorry for your loss. How is the group taking Abby’s death?”
“Even though it’s just been a couple of days, we all miss her something fierce. She was a valuable member of our society, you know.”
The little hairs on my neck rise.
Phoebe isn’t going to miss Abby one bit.
Betty Jean told me that Abby and Phoebe were involved in a power struggle within the group. With Abby gone, it looks like Phoebe’s position is no longer in jeopardy.
“Do you know when her service is going to be held?” I ask.
“It’s all up to the brother. Apparently, he’s a real loser, but he was her only living relative, so he’s in charge now.” She hesitates. “You know, Lucy, there are all sorts of rumors circulating about Abby and a dog. Do you know anything about it?”
Oh boy. The little hairs on my neck are practically dancing now. I’m surprised Phoebe’s nose hasn’t gotten longer just standing here talking to me.
This last statement of hers is a blatant lie in that she most definitely knows something about Paco. And it’s a whole lot of something too. The stronger my physical reaction, the bigger the lie.
But I can’t very well call her out on it without exposing my gift. I’d love to find out more about Paco, so I’m forced to tell her what I know in hopes that maybe I can glean more info from her.
“The dog is a Chihuahua mix. Abby brought him here to The Bistro on Friday and told everyone that he belonged to her brother, but he denies the dog is his. The dog was with her when she died.”
“Do you know where the dog is now?”
“He’s at the animal shelter. Lanie Miller is trying to find out who owned him previously. In case they want him back.”
“I’ve always wanted a dog. As Abby’s dear friend, I should offer to adopt him.”
Oh, hell to the no. Paco is such a smart little thing. He belongs with someone hipper and let’s face it, saner than Phoebe Van Cleave.
I make a mental note to call Lanie and tell that under no circumstances is Paco to end up with Phoebe. Before I can quiz her further on the subject of Paco, Gloria and Victor join us.
“Lucy, how have you been, dear?” Gloria’s blonde hair is braided down her back today. She’s younger than the rest of her group, but she’s got streaks of gray in her hair that make her look older than thirty-nine (I asked her age once). If she cut and colored it, she’d probably look great, but then who am I to be giving out beauty advice? I can barely tweeze my eyebrows.
“I’m fine,” I say automatically.
Gloria turns to Phoebe. “Have you asked her yet?”
Phoebe suddenly looks nervous. “Not yet.”
Gloria reaches across the counter to take my hand in hers. “You know, Lucy, you don’t have to pretend with us.”
“O-kay. Not pretending, but if I was, what would I be pretending about?”
“When you find a dead body, you become linked to it.”
“The spirit needs a conduit to hang on to,” says Victor. “Chances are, Abby’s spirit is hanging on to you.”
“Have you felt different since Saturday?” Gloria asks. She eyes me curiously, and I can’t help but feel creeped out. “We’re expecting Abby to make an appearance any day now. She’s the first of our group to go over to the other side. I’m hoping she can tell us what happened to her.”
Oh, for Pete’s sake. These wackadoos think that Abby is going to communicate with them through me?
I snatch my hand away. “Nope. I don’t feel different at all.”
“It’s just a matter of time before you do. When it happens, you’ll need us.” Gloria slips me her business card. It reads Gloria Hightower, Professional Medium. “Call anytime. Day or night. If I’m not available, then leave a message.”
Victor nods eagerly.
The whole thing is ghoulish. None of them are even sad that Abby has passed. It’s as if they like her more now that she’s potentially a ghost than when she was alive. How messed up is that?
Thankfully, Sarah comes along and saves me by getting their orders. Which means I take the next customer in line.
It’s Rusty. And Travis is with him.
“Morning, Lucy!” says Rusty. “You know what I want.”
I hand Rusty his usual—coffee heavy on the cream and sugar and a lemon poppy seed muffin.
“What’ll you have, Officer Fontaine?”
“Just coffee. Black. And call me Travis.”
“Are you sure you don’t want something to eat? Our muffin of the day is pumpkin spice. First one’s on the house.”
“No, thanks. I’m more of a donut guy.”
I knew it! “Then you should try Heidi’s Bakery on Main Street. She makes great donuts, and her coffee isn’t bad either.”
“Thanks. I’ll give it a try.” Apparently, Officer Clueless doesn’t understand sarcasm. “I checked in on Paco this morning,” he adds.
This gets my full attention. “How’s he doing?”
“He seemed to be doing fine.”
Fine? That could mean anything. “Was he eating? How about the shaking?”
“He wasn’t shaking.”
He doesn’t add anything else, so I give him his coffee. “Do you know when Derrick is planning on holding Abby’s service?”
“Can’t have the service till they finish the autopsy,” says Rusty.
“Autopsy?”
“It’s standard procedure whenever the cause of death is yet to be determined. But between you and me, it looks like that knock on the head did her in.”
“What do you think happened? I mean, did she trip or something?”
“Or something might be more like it,” Rusty says ominously.
Travis looks as if he’s about to admonish Rusty when Betty Jean spies him from across the café. Her ability to sniff out testosterone never fails to impress me. She nearly plows down a mother and her toddler in her hurry to get to him. “You must be the new cop in town,” she says breathlessly. “I’m Betty Jean Collins.”
Travis shakes her hand. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Collins.”
“Call me Betty Jean.
Or better yet, Sugar Momma. Whichever you prefer. No one told me you were Ryan Reynolds’ doppelganger. Ever see that movie The Proposal? I could have played the Betty White role, except she’s a lot older than me. A lot. My favorite scene is the one where Ryan Reynolds catches Sandra Bullock coming out of the shower, and they end up on the floor naked. You can see his butt, and let me tell you, it’s mighty fine. If you pause it, you can even—”
“I haven’t seen the movie.” Travis looks at me with desperation like he needs to be saved, but I’m enjoying this way too much to help him out here.
Betty Jean looks Travis up and down, then growls. “I guess it’s true what they say about Texas. Is all of you this big?”
“Ah, Betty Jean, cut it out,” says Rusty. “Or he’ll think you’re serious.” Rusty playfully elbows Travis. “Betty Jean is like this with all the cops in town.”
“No, I’m not. Just the good-looking ones I want to schnocker.” She winks and saunters away. Even though I don’t think schnocker is a real word, we all know exactly what Betty Jean means. The mental picture those words create in my head is more than a little disturbing.
Travis is left with his mouth hanging open.
Welcome to Whispering Bay, Officer Fontaine!
He shakes his head as if to clear it (he must have gotten the same picture I did). “Miss McGuffin, can we speak to you please? In private?”
Rusty makes a face. “Now? But I haven’t eaten my muffin yet.”
Travis looks at Rusty for a full three seconds like he’s patiently counting to himself before saying, “Go ahead and have your breakfast. I can talk to Miss McGuffin.”
“Gee, thanks!” Rusty happily takes off for an empty table near the window.
What on earth could Travis Fontaine want to speak to me about? I’m curious, but my Spidey sense warns me that the last thing I should do is go off for a private word with this guy.
“If this has to do with Abby, I told you everything the other day. Plus, I’m kind of busy. Working? You know?”
Sarah, who’s just finished serving table three, overhears the last part of our conversation. “Go ahead, Lucy, Jill’s in the kitchen, and I can handle the counter.” She smiles at Travis who smiles back at her.
It’s the first time I’ve seen him smile and… I hate to admit it, but Betty Jean is right. He does look like Ryan Reynolds. Sarah probably thinks she’s doing me a favor. If only she knew how annoying he is.
It looks as if I have no choice but to talk to him.
“If you want to talk in private, then we should go upstairs.”
7
The upstairs apartment was built by The Bistro’s former owners, and it’s completely awesome. Dark hardwood floors, creamy colored baseboards, and light gray walls give the place an upscale feel not to mention the breathtaking views of the gulf. I’d feel guilty living here, but Sarah and her husband also live on the beach in a renovated cottage, so it only made sense for me to take this place.
I can tell by Travis’s expression that he’s impressed. “Does every room up here have a view like this?”
“Yep. Except for the bathroom. The window in there looks out over the back parking lot, but I’m not complaining.”
He changes gears and gets down to business. “Miss McGuffin,” he says, and I swear I can hear Mrs. Jackson’s voice from all those years ago in kindergarten, “I asked you if Miss Delgado seemed agitated last Friday and you said no, however, witnesses claim that the two of you had some words over a tuna salad sandwich.”
“Witnesses? Who have you been talking to?”
He pulls out that notebook of his. “Gus Pappas, Viola Pantini—”
“Okay, okay.” I blow out a breath. “I get it.”
I should never have underestimated this guy.
“Sure, Abby and I had a few words, but it was nothing.”
“It didn’t sound like nothing.”
“The tuna salad sandwich ruse is a little game Abby plays about once a month to get a free lunch. She orders it, then when I bring it out to her, she claims that I got the order wrong. Then I bring her what she really wants, a roast beef on rye and we give it to her for free.”
“If you know that she’s just yanking your chain, then why go along with it? Why not call her out on it?”
“Because I don’t want to accuse her of lying.”
“How do you know it’s a lie? Maybe she’s just forgetful.”
“Oh, it’s a lie, because—” I snap my mouth shut.
“Because what?”
Rats.
“You’re right, maybe she has dementia.” I try to sound meek even though it’s killing me, but the last thing I want to do is admit my gift to Officer Fontaine. “I give her a free sandwich because I don’t want to embarrass her and because other than the sandwich game, she’s a good customer. Or rather, she was a good customer.”
I shudder. I still can’t believe she’s gone. Poor Abby. What she was doing all alone in the rec center?
It’s been two days, but I can still see it all so clearly. Abby, lying on the ground like she’s asleep, wearing her tan skirt with sensible shoes…
Wait again.
My brain zeroes in on something.
Abby was wearing a tan skirt, sweater, and her brown loafers. It’s a variation of what she wears most days when it’s cool outside. But she specifically told me that she was going to be dressed as Annette Funicello.
So why wasn’t she in costume?
The answer is obvious. I remember feeling her skin. She was cold and stiff. As if she’d been there a while…
Travis’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “But last Friday, you did challenge her.”
“What?”
“The tuna salad sandwich?” he prompts.
“Oh, right. I was tired. I’d been up late baking, and I was little friskier than usual.” Now it’s my turn to ask questions. “Why all this interest in what happened Friday? Have you figured out what Abby was doing in the rec center? Did she get in through the side door? Did you dust it for prints? Remember, you’re going to find mine there.”
“First things first.” Travis flips through the pages in his notebook until he finds what he’s looking for. “On the day of the rec center celebration you and Sarah Powers were working in your food booth, and according to Mrs. Powers, Will Cunningham and your brother Sebastian came by around ten-thirty?”
That’s Father McGuffin to you, buddy.
“That’s right.”
“But your brother wandered off, leaving Will and Brittany Kelly at the booth with you and Sarah Powers for about, what? Twenty minutes or so before you decided to go back into the building? And that’s when you found the dog?”
“I already told you this at least four times the other day. And my brother didn’t wander off. He and your dad went to go check out the rest of the food booths.”
“Did you see him later?”
“Who? Sebastian or your father?”
“Sebastian.”
“No. He probably got called away by a parishioner or something.”
What’s he trying to get at?
“Let’s go back to Friday at lunch. Viola Pantini has gone on record as saying that Miss Delgado and Sebastian seemed at odds with one another. Something about an exorcism she wanted him to perform?”
I swallow hard. “I don’t remember that.”
“Gus Pappas also recalled an exchange between the two of them and it’s very similar to Ms. Pantini’s version. Apparently, Miss Delgado threatened to go to the bishop?”
“It was lunchtime, and we were busy, so I really can’t… Hold on. You don’t think Sebastian had anything to do with Abby’s death? Just because she was upset with him on Friday and then you’re not sure where he was on Saturday during the celebration? Are you insane? Did you ask my brother where he was?”
“He says he was hearing a confession, but he won’t tell us whose it was.”
“You should know he can’t tell you that. Besides, Abb
y wasn’t killed during the rec center celebration. She died on Friday night or possibly early Saturday morning before the celebration began.”
“How do you know that?”
“It’s simple. Abby told me on Friday that she was going to be dressed as Annette Funicello, but she wasn’t wearing a costume, which means she never went to the celebration. Plus, her body was cold. I mean, like really cold and stiff. I just didn’t put it together until now.”
A flicker of admiration flashes across his face. Have I actually managed to impress Officer Know-It-All?
“You’re right. The coroner puts her time of death between midnight and two a.m. According to the security footage, Abby entered the building around midnight, but she never came out.”
Security footage? I had no idea there were cameras around the building. Then I remember that Gus mentioned something about security issues.
“And your brother was seen entering the building thirty minutes later,” Travis adds.
“My brother? Are you sure about that?”
“Positive. He even admits to it. Only he refuses to tell us what he was doing at the rec center in the middle of the night. He only says he saw Abby, stayed in the building a few minutes, then left.”
“Okay, well, there you go. He was probably counseling her.”
“In under five minutes? Maybe. Except the footage doesn’t show anyone else entering or leaving the building. Which means that Sebastian is the last person who saw Abby alive.”
The little hairs on my neck start to dance.
Is Officer Fontaine lying to me? I study him closer. His last statement wasn’t exactly a lie, but it wasn’t the complete truth either. He’s hiding something from me, only I’m not sure what purpose it serves.
“I thought Rusty said she fell. Do the police think someone killed her?”
“I never said that,” Travis says cautiously. “But we need Sebastian to tell us exactly what happened and we’re hoping that you can convince him to do that.”
“Well, I’ll certainly try.”
“Can you talk to him today? It’s important we wrap this up as soon as possible.”
