by Maria Geraci
I read for an hour straight before I get up and stretch. Betty Jean was right. This stuff is ridiculously addicting. Too many explosions and assassinations for my taste, but the sex scenes have totally managed to grab my attention. I mean, do people really do this stuff? They must, or someone wouldn’t have written it, right?
I grab my laptop and google this mysterious J.W. Quicksilver which is as about as phony a pen name as you can get. The bio on his website shows a picture of an old-fashioned typewriter instead of an author photo which means that not only is J.W. not using his real name, he doesn’t want anyone to know who he is.
Betty Jean thinks he uses a pen name because he has a top-secret government job which would explain why he knows so much about the spy business. But I think it’s because of the sex scenes. I’d bet my apple walnut cream cheese muffin recipe that J.W. is a bald, middle-aged schoolteacher living in the Bible belt with a wife and six kids.
His books have won awards and his latest, our book club selection, Assassin’s Honor, has been on the best seller list for over a month now.
I wonder what J.W. would think about blue hoodie guy? Who is he? And why does he need so much food?
I fish out the Tiny’s pizza coupon from my sweater pocket and type the address in my computer. It comes up on a list of vacation rentals and the broker for the listing is Kitty Pappas. Kitty is a total sweetheart and Whispering Bay royalty. She’s a founding member of the Bunco Babes, a local group that plays Bunco once a week. Everyone in town knows her and her husband Steve.
I give her a call.
“Hey, Kitty, it’s Lucy McGuffin.”
“Lucy! I’ve been thinking of you!” Kitty wants to know all about my near death experience at the hands of a crazy sociopath. I can’t blame her since nothing like that has ever happened in Whispering Bay before, but I’m getting tired of telling the same story over and over. Roger Van Cleave, who co-owns the Whispering Bay Gazette, has been after me for an interview. I think I’ll take him up on it. That way I can just refer people to the article.
After I give Kitty enough details to satisfy her, I ask her about the property in Dolphin Isles.
“Are you looking for a place to rent? I thought you loved living over The Bistro.”
“Oh, it’s not for me. It’s for a…friend.”
“I’ll be happy to give your friend the information on the house. Currently, it’s leased out, but it’s a short-term rental. Just till the end of the month.”
“Oh, really,” I say trying to sound casual. “A snowbird?”
“Hardly. The couple who rented the place are in their thirties. Honeymooners, I think. I can’t show you the house since it’s occupied, but if you give me your friend’s email address, I can send them pictures and any information they might need.”
“Oh, um, thanks. I don’t have her email address on me, but I’ll pass the info along.”
Yikes. After solving the mystery behind Abby Delgado’s death, I promised myself I wouldn’t lie anymore. But here I am, doing just that.
We say our goodbyes. After Kitty’s phone call I’m more confused than ever. Why on earth are Rusty and Travis getting food for a couple of honeymooners?
“Mommy is going out for a while,” I tell Paco, who’s laid out on the couch (because being The Bistro’s mascot is apparently hard work). “Be a good boy.”
He yawns and goes back to sleep.
The library doesn’t close for a couple of hours, so I still have time to swing by before book club starts at seven.
Since Will is the head librarian and I’m his best friend, everyone at the library knows me. Sally Reynolds, one of newer media specialists, waves to me from the reference desk. She’s from somewhere down in south Florida, and since moving to town a couple of weeks ago, she’s come in at least three times to get one of my muffins, which means Sally has excellent taste.
“Hey, Lucy! Will is in his office.”
I stop by her desk to admire her new hair color. Sally switches hair color the way I change T-shirts. Today, her chin-length hair is bright pink. A look she can totally rock because she has that kind of face. She’s wearing a black sweatshirt with the words WINTER IS COMING. Besides a love of muffins, we have a couple of other things in common. We both like wearing shirts with quirky sayings, and we’re both huge Game of Thrones fans.
“Nice,” she says pointing to my YOU AIN’T SEEN MUFFIN YET T-shirt.
“Thanks. Say, have you ever heard of an author named J.W. Quicksilver?”
“I’m a librarian, Lucy. Of course I’ve heard of him.”
“Funny, because when I mentioned him to Will last week, he seemed clueless.”
Sally rolls her eyes. “Will’s a great guy, but he’s a bit of a book snob.”
Tell me about it. Will’s preference for the classics over popular fiction is well known. I’m surprised that he stoops low enough to watch America’s Most Vicious Criminals.
“You wouldn’t happen to have a copy of his latest book, Assassin’s Honor? I’m supposed to read it for Betty Jean’s book club.”
“Betty Jean Collins?” Sally playfully shivers. “I might be new to town, but that’s a name that makes me want to hide behind my desk. She comes in every morning demanding to know if we’ve gotten any new books.” She tsks. “Total book hog.”
“That’s her. Do you have a copy of the book?”
“Sorry, it’s a new release, so we’re all out. We have a waiting list if you want to put your name on it.”
“Book club is tonight. But that’s okay, I have it on my Kindle.”
Sally plugs her ears with her fingers. “La-la-la-la…. Can’t hear you!”
I laugh. “Sorry.”
“I hate to think that one day there might not be any print books left in the world.” She sighs. “So have you started reading Assassin’s Honor? What do you think of it?”
“Honestly? It’s pretty addicting.”
She smiles impishly. “Have you gotten to chapter fourteen yet?”
My cheeks go hot. Betty Jean “warned” me about this chapter already. “I kind of skipped ahead to it.”
“Whew!” Sally fans herself with her hand. “That J.W. Quicksilver sure can write a sex scene. It makes you wonder what he’s like in real life.”
Will pokes his head out his office door. “Lucy. I thought I heard your voice. C’mon in.”
Sally and I both startle like we’ve been caught with our hands in the muffin jar. We say goodbye then I head into Will’s office where I make myself at home.
Will’s office is basically a glorified cubicle with four walls, but it’s private and cozy. The walls are covered with pictures of family and friends, including one of Will and my brother Sebastian when they graduated high school. There’s also one of me in an apron standing behind the counter on the day that Sarah and I officially became owners of The Bistro. I’m grinning like a fool. Probably because it was one of the happiest days of my life.
“How’s your head?” he asks.
“Better.”
“Good. I’m glad you came by. Saves me a phone call. I have to cancel tomorrow night.”
“Why? What’s going on?” Will never cancels our Friday pizza and T.V. night if he can help it. Especially not when there’s a new episode of America’s Most Vicious Criminals.
“It’s work related. Something I can’t get out off. Will you record the show? We can watch it later.”
“Sure.” I get right down to it. “Travis and Rusty came by The Bistro this morning.”
“Don’t Travis and Rusty usually come by every morning for their coffee?”
“Yeah, but they ordered a lot of food.”
“Where’s this going?”
“They said it was for the police department, but that was a lie.”
Will sits back in his chair and looks at me. There are only five people in the world who know about my special gift. My parents, my brother Sebastian, Travis’s dad (who I told just a few days ago), and Will.
&nbs
p; But there’s one thing about my lie detecting skills that Will and the others aren’t aware of. Will is the only person I know who I’ve never caught in a lie.
Not because he doesn’t lie, because let’s face it, everyone lies. But I’ve never caught Will in any sort of deception. Which is odd, but I figure it’s because my feelings for him must somehow get in the way.
“So after they left The Bistro, Paco and I kind of followed them and naturally, I was right. The food wasn’t for the police.”
“Kind of followed them?”
“We one hundred percent followed them. But don’t worry, they didn’t see us. I made sure of that.”
Will shakes his head the way he does whenever he disapproves of one of my schemes. “Lucy, what are you up to now?”
I lean forward. “Hear me out. I followed them to Dolphin Isles. They parked their squad car along the side of a road. Then this guy jogged by and Travis handed him the food real sneaky like. Then a couple of minutes later, Travis and Rusty took off and I followed the jogger to a house on a cul-de-sac.”
“And?”
“And? You don’t find that suspicious?”
“Maybe this guy is a friend of theirs.”
“I know everyone in town. I’ve never seen this guy before. Plus, I found out from Kitty Pappas that the house the guy went into is being rented by a couple of honeymooners.”
He absorbs this for a few seconds. “The Bistro doesn’t deliver. Does it?”
“No, but—”
“A couple on their honeymoon have someone deliver food to them. They sound like a regular Bonnie and Clyde.”
“A dozen muffins? Six sandwiches? That doesn’t sound like something a couple on their honeymoon orders out.”
Will’s blue eyes glint with humor. “Maybe they’re into kinky food fights.”
“So they have the cops delivering them food?”
“Lucy, you can’t go around following people and making wild assumptions. I’m sure there’s a perfectly logical explanation. Just ask Rusty or Travis what they were doing.”
Not the attitude I’m looking for.
I can’t very well ask Travis or Rusty what they were doing without giving away that I was following them, and Will knows it.
“Put all that energy you have into something productive. Like making sure everything is ready to go when the Cooking Channel film crew comes on Monday.”
“You sound like Brittany.”
Speaking of Brittany… Will has had a crush on Brittany since forever. Last Friday night they finally went out on their first date, but something happened, and the date ended early. Later that night while we were alone in the kitchen, Will was about to tell me something that sounded really promising, but we were interrupted, and we haven’t had a chance to talk about it since. “We never got to talk about your big date,” I say cautiously.
“Yeah. About that…” Will readjusts his glasses which is something he does whenever he gets nervous or pensive. “It was okay.”
“Just okay?” I try not to sound too gleeful as my mind imagines all the dozens of things that might have gone wrong. Maybe Brittany eats with her mouth full. Will hates that. But… no. I’ve seen Brittany eat. She picks at her food like a little bird.
“Brittany and I didn’t have a lot to talk about. Except for her job. She’s pretty passionate about that.”
Aha! It’s just as I suspected. They have nothing in common. Which is way better than her eating with her mouth full.
“Are you going to ask her out again?” Please say no.
“I don’t know. Probably not anytime soon.”
“Travis asked me out,” I blurt. “On a date.”
Will’s gaze sharpens. “What did you say?”
“I haven’t given him an answer yet. What do you think? Should I go out with him?” I hold my breath while I wait for him to answer. Please tell me that I shouldn’t go out with Travis.
“Do you want to go out with him?”
I flop back in my chair. This wishy-washy attitude wasn’t what I was expecting. It’s like that moment in the kitchen the other night never happened.
“I don’t know. He’s not my type.”
“You have a type?”
Before I can answer, Sally knocks on the open door. “Sorry to interrupt, but you asked me to tell you when the new AV equipment came in?”
Will smiles at her. “Thanks, Sally.”
“I need to get going anyway.” I rise from my chair. “Don’t want to be late for my first book club meeting at Betty Jean’s.”
“What I wouldn’t give to be a fly on the wall.”
“You could always join. Betty Jean says the club is full, but I’m sure she’d make an exception for you,” I tease. “We’re dissecting J.W. Quicksilver’s newest thriller. Lots of big action and hot sex scenes.”
He snorts. “No thanks.”
“Snob.”
“Have fun. Oh, and Lucy, stop following the cops around town.”
I mimic Sally and plug my ears with my fingers. “La-la-la-la… Can’t hear you!” Then I dash out the door to the sound of Will’s chuckling.
3
I have thirty minutes to get to book club and I promised Betty Jean I’d bring muffins. So I swing by The Bistro and grab two dozen of my best. Paco watches as I carefully place the muffins in a box. He raises his right paw in the air like he’s begging. Either that or he has a question.
I giggle. “What do you want?”
I’ve only had Paco for a couple of weeks, but in that short time I’ve learned to read his expressions. This one is what I call his I want some of that face.
I have a confession to make. Even though I know I shouldn’t, every once in a while, I give Paco an itsy bitsy teeny tiny piece of muffin, but I’m trying to be a good dog mom. Which means no more people food. Even though he seems perfectly fine, my sweet Paco is still recuperating from being poisoned by the same crazy pants who hit me with the frying pan. My vet bill was humungous (not that Paco isn’t worth every penny I had to put on my already overloaded credit card).
“You know you’re not supposed to eat those. The vet says you need to watch your weight.”
Paco sneezes. It sounds like the human equivalent of someone tsking in disgust.
He unleashes the power of those big brown eyes on me. I’m so weak…
“Okay, okay. Just a little piece. But don’t tell Dr. Brooks.”
He barks and wags his tail. I break the edge off of a banana walnut muffin. He wolfs it down. Then he looks at the box again.
“Oh no. The rest of these are for the book club.”
Paco runs to the kitchen door.
“You want to go to book club with me?”
He scratches the door in response.
Why not?
Betty Jean is one of my regular customers, and she seems to really like Paco (one of her few redeeming qualities). “Okay, you can go, but you have to be good. No begging and no interrupting anyone when they’re talking. Unless you have something interesting to say about the book.”
He barks like he agrees.
I place the muffins in the back of my car, and Paco jumps in the front seat passenger side. It’s November, but the weather is Florida cool, not cold tonight, so I roll down the window on his side. Paco is my first dog, but I think sticking your head out the car window is one of those universal dog things.
I’ve never been to Betty Jean’s house, but I know where she lives. Her home is in an older residential neighborhood, just a few blocks from the city park. I come up to a four-way stop sign near the soccer fields when Paco starts barking violently. He lifts himself up by his front paws bringing half his body out the window.
“Paco! What are you doing?”
He turns to look at me and…oh no. There’s a familiar wild glint in his eyes. Before I can stop him, he jumps out the window.
Rats!
I swing my VW beetle to the side of the road, turn off the engine and run after my crazy dog.
/> “Paco! Come back here this instant!”
It’s dark, but the soccer field lights are on so I can see where he’s running. He turns his head to check and see if I’m following him, which of course, I am. Then he halts near the edge of a large palm tree.
I stop to catch my breath. “Bad dog! You could have gotten hurt jumping from the car! What were you—”
I stop mid-sentence.
Paco sits there calmly staring down at something.
My skin turns icy cold like I’m in some sort of déjà vu dream. Because that something is a man. And he’s not moving.
I kneel down beside him and nudge his shoulder. “Sir, are you all right?”
No response.
I gingerly place my fingers on the side of his neck to check for a pulse, but there isn’t one. I roll him over to see if he’s breathing and to start CPR.
Holy wow. It’s the guy in the blue hoodie.
But no amount of CPR is going to help, because he’s got a bullet hole right between his eyes.
Luckily, it takes the cops about three minutes to get here.
Unluckily, it’s Travis who responds. I wish it had been Rusty. He’s so much easier to manipulate… I mean, work with.
Travis takes one look at the dead guy and his expression goes grim. “Are you the one who made the call?”
I tell him exactly how things went down, including how Paco led me to the body. This makes two dead bodies that Paco has discovered. I can’t snicker anymore at the idea that he might really be a ghost whisperer.
Neither can Travis. “He actually jumped out of the car? And he led you right here. To this exact same spot?” The first time I told Travis that Paco led me to a dead body he practically laughed in my face. Now his disbelief is laced with confusion. Logic tells him that there’s no such thing as a ghost whispering dog, but the more intuitive side of him is beginning to wonder.
He glances around the empty soccer field. “Have you seen anyone else?”
“Nope. Just this guy and now you.”
He pulls a cell phone from his shirt pocket and spears me with one of his I’m-a-cop-and-you’re-a-civilian gazes that he’s so good at. “I have to insist that you keep this to yourself.”
