by Maria Geraci
“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. “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. “I’ll make sure Lucy gets home.”
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 the floor next to him.
12
“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.
The paramedics satisfy themselves that Brittany doesn’t need to go to the hospital, so now it’s the police and the FBI’s turn to question her.
I find Travis alone for a second and take the opportunity to see if I can get any info from him. “Have they identified the guy in the stall yet?”
“Where’s your date?”
“Does that mean you aren’t going to tell me?” I ask in a mockingly sweet voice. “Remember, I’m supposed to be helping the Bureau here.” Then to answer his question. “My date left earl
y.”
“How early?”
“About fifteen minutes before Paco and I found the body.”
“So he missed all the action, huh? We still need to question him.” He hands me that irritating notebook he writes everything down in. “His name and number, please.”
“Are you going to tell me who that is in the bathroom? I already know it’s not some random customer.”
“Take a guess.”
“He doesn’t have that clean-cut FBI look about him, so I’d say he was another hitman on his way to kill Joey. Only El Tigre got to him first.”
“I’d say that was a pretty good guess.” Travis gets called away by one of the suits. “We’ll talk later.”
I’m about to call my parents to reassure them I’m okay, when I spot Brittany. She looks dazed. Her eyes are puffy and her cheeks are wet. Her mascara, however, still looks perfect. Go, Brittany!
“Are you okay?”
She nods woodenly. “How about you?”
“I’m okay too.”
“Oh, Lucy! It was so horrible! I don’t think I’m ever going to get over this.”
And because I can’t help myself, I hug her.
“I’ll probably have to go to counseling,” she says, sniffling.
“Yes, of course. Counseling sounds like a wonderful idea. Very beneficial.”
“And—” Brittany’s cell phone rings. “Hold that thought.” She pulls her phone out. “Yes? Oh! Tara! How are you? What? No…no, Tara, I beg you! This is all going to blow over. Yes, of course, I promise. Whispering Bay is still the wholesome beach town you’re looking for. We might not be America’s safest city anymore, but we’re definitely America’s most interesting one!” She gives a weak little laugh. There’s a pause. “I see. Yes, I understand.” She clicks off.
“I’m sorry, Brittany. You tried your best. No one can blame you for any of—”
“Sorry for what?” she snaps.
“I take it that Tara has already heard about this most recent dead body?”
“Wade probably couldn’t wait to call her,” she fumes. “I should cut off his bar tab.”
“Does that mean we’re definitely out of the running for Battle of the Beach Eats?”
“The network wants to make a decision by the end of the week. If we can keep any more dead bodies from surfacing then maybe we can reclaim our image. It’s a slim chance, but it’s still a chance.”
