by Maria Geraci
“How exactly are we supposed to keep more dead bodies from surfacing?”
“I don’t know, Lucy,” she says sarcastically. “Maybe you can stop being an enabler and make sure that Zeke Grant and the rest of his crew actually do their job instead of hanging around The Bistro all day eating muffins?”
“Hey! Zeke only comes in the morning and—”
“Speaking of Zeke Grant. There he is! I’m simply going to have to insist that the Whispering Bay Police Department do something about these dead bodies. They’re ruining all my plans.” She takes off on her mission with a brisk pace.
And just like that, Brittany is back.
Just when it looks like things are wrapping up, Agent Billings take me off to the side. “We need to speak in private.”
She ushers Paco and me to an empty office room inside the restaurant. A minute later, Travis joins us. “I’ll let Fontaine explain the situation.”
“The guy in the stall was Eddie O’Leary,” he begins.
“Better known to his associates as The Hatchet,” she finishes.
The Hatchet? And here I thought El Tigre sounded scary. I really don’t want to know how this O’Leary character got his nickname, although I’ve seen the movie Scarface so I can imagine.
“You have my complete attention.”
“We’re going to install secret cameras both inside and outside The Bistro this afternoon. When your place opens back up tomorrow and El Tigre makes his move, we’ll have him on film.”
“What if he’s scoping out the place and sees you putting in the cameras? Won’t he know to avoid coming back?”
She smiles smugly. “I told you, El Tigre thinks he’s invincible. He’ll probably welcome the extra challenge of the cameras. It’s never stopped him before, but this time it’s different. We’re counting on you to point out any customers that stand out. Anyone who isn’t a regular. He’s never worked a small town like this. He’s been able to avoid detection in places like New York or Miami or Moscow because of the crowds. But here in Whispering Bay? I feel confident that this time we’ll be able to nab him.”
“Are you going to be installing cameras here at The Harbor House? I mean, he’ll be back here too, won’t he? To leave his trademark clue?”
“If he continues with his pattern, which, he will, then yes, but there’s no time to place surveillance equipment in both establishments. Your café is much smaller. It will be easier to concentrate our efforts in one spot.”
“What about last night? Are you sure there wasn’t anyone in my parking lot? Maybe El Tigre already left his clue. Because I did hear something. My dog heard it too.”
“Positive. We’re professionals. If someone had been there, we would have found something.” She narrows her eyes at me. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but I’m not a fool. It’s no coincidence that you’re the one who’s found all the dead bodies. I’m too busy trying to keep Joey alive right now, but when this is all over, I’m going to want some answers. Got it, McGuffin?”
“Sure, I got it.”
“Good.” She nods to Travis. “I’m going to wrap it up out there. You can give McGuffin a ride home. Make sure she understands that we’re not playing around here. Rollins!” she screeches on her way out the door. “Have you printed everyone yet?”
Argh. This woman…
“So do you believe me now?” I ask Travis. “Are you going to admit that Paco is a ghost whisperer?”
“You’re right. He did lead you to those dead bodies. There’s no other explanation.”
Wait. What? That was way too easy.
“Are you hosing me?”
“Absolutely not.” He studies Paco. “You don’t know much about his origins, do you?”
“I know he belonged to Susan Van Dyke and that she used to have séances in her home and that he participated.” I wrinkle my nose in distaste. “And that his name used to be Cornelius.”
“But before then?”
According to Paco’s history, Susan found him wandering down the street, with no collar. “I don’t know anything about him before Susan.”
“Exactly. He could be a highly specialized police or military dog trained to search for cadavers.”
“But wouldn’t he have been chipped? If he’s that specially trained why wasn’t he wearing a collar? Or why hasn’t some agency come looking for him?”
“Maybe they have. As soon as I have time, I’m going to look into this.”
Travis can look into this all he wants, but he’s not going to find anything. Paco is a ghost whisperer. End of story.
“You ready to go home now?” Travis guides us through the side door to the restaurant where a police car is waiting.
“Too bad your boyfriend wasn’t here when all this happened,” he says dryly. “Oh wait. You have two of them right? The one you’re sleeping with and the one you were here having brunch with?”
I choose to ignore him. “Can I ride in the front with you?”
“No, you have to ride in the back. Preferably handcuffed.”
I can’t help but crack a smile. I settle Paco in the back (unhandcuffed) and strap myself into the front seat. “Can I play with the radio?”
“What are you? Ten?”
“Twenty-six. And Mike Armandi isn’t my boyfriend. We were just having brunch. And… you know I’m not sleeping with Will. We’re just friends.”
He looks at me sideways. “But you want it to be more, right?”
My stomach sinks. It’s not fair to flirt with Travis and put him off at the same time. I need to be completely honest with him and lay all my cards on the table. “Yes, but it’s all one-sided.”
“Are you sure about that? You should tell him, Lucy. Maybe Will feels the same way you do. Maybe he doesn’t. But until you ask, you’re never going to find out, and until then, you and I can’t happen.”
“You and I? I don’t get it. Every girl in this town is after you. Why me?”
“Hell if I know. But are you going to sit there and tell me you didn’t like it when I kissed you last night?”
Rats. I wish I could honestly say no. But I can’t.
“I liked it. Some.”
He grins. “Liar. You liked it a lot. I did too.” He starts the engine. “Tell Will how you feel. And when you figure it all out, let me know.”
13
Paco and I go back to The Bistro where, good to her word, Agent Billing’s FBI crew is already there installing cameras. They’re dressed in T-shirts that advertise some bogus refrigeration company so that anyone driving by would assume that we’re getting repair work done.
Except El Tigre will know something’s up. According to Agent Billings, he won’t care. Instead, he’ll consider it a challenge. I can’t wait until this is all over and my life gets back to normal again.
As if my life could ever go back to normal anyway.
You should tell him, Lucy. Maybe Will feels the same way you do. Maybe he doesn’t. But until you ask, you’re never going to find out, and until then, you and I can’t happen.
Tell Will how I feel about him?
Easy for Travis to say. He’s not the one who could potentially lose his best friend forever.
I try to ignore the undercover crew and do the same thing I do every other Sunday afternoon. I go over the business’s emails, which is super boring but maybe it will take my mind off Will and Travis and this whole FBI business.
Sarah is really good about checking our account every morning so she can stay on top of things. Anything that’s important she flags so that I’ll make sure to read it.
I make myself a cup of coffee and settle down in front of my laptop. The first thing that catches my attention is an email from Rocko.
Sorry I’ve missed the last few deliveries. This broken leg is messing me up bad. I hope my brother Jimmy has been keeping up with the orders. Should be back to my usual route in a few weeks. Meanwhile, if you need anything just let me know. I’ll make sure Jimmy keeps you stocked.
And who the heck is Jimmy? Rocko’s brother Tony used to run our route until Rocko took over. I’ve never heard of this Jimmy before.
I look for earlier emails in the thread, but I don’t see any.
I pick up my phone and dial Sarah.
“Lucy! I heard about what happened at The Harbor House. Are you okay? What on earth is going on? Do you think these two murders are connected? I mean, they have to be. Right?”
I wish I could tell Sarah the truth. Of all the people I’ve lied to since this started, she’s the one that bothers me the most. The Bistro is half hers. She should know what’s going on. But if I tell her, then I could get in big trouble with the FBI. I envy the fact that she’s completely ignorant of the whole situation. Tomorrow morning when we open up and start serving customers, she’ll be oblivious to what’s going on, while I, on the other hand, will be on the lookout for a ruthless professional hitman capable of taking out anyone who stands in his way. I’m already a nervous wreck.
“It’s crazy, huh? Say, Sarah, when Rocko’s nephew came in the other day to bring us our order, you said you already knew about it from Rocko?”
“Yeah, he emailed to tell me he’d been in the hospital and that his brother would be taking over his route. I meant to keep it, for reference, but I accidentally deleted it. Sorry.”
“Did he give a specific name for this brother?”
“Someone named Jimmy, I think?”
“So you didn’t think it was weird that this Mike guy showed up?”
“I figured he was just filling in. Why? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. I just…wanted to update our supply list, and I want to make sure to email it to the right person. I’m trying out a new muffin recipe and I need pecans.”
“Just email Rocko at the usual address. He’ll take care of it. Isn’t it great that the cops are letting us open tomorrow?”
“Yeah, great,” I say woodenly before we say our goodbyes and hang up.
The wheels in my head begin to spin. This whole thing with Rocko seems off. Before I lose my nerve, I email him back.
Hope you’re feeling better! I want to add pecans to our bi-weekly delivery. See the amount below. And one more thing. Jimmy hasn’t been making the deliveries. Your nephew Mike is doing the route. Should I expect him to continue?
I hit send then wait a few minutes. No reply. I’m sure Rocko has better things to do than sit around his computer waiting to answer my emails.
I pace around the room. Then I take off my flowery dress and get into some comfy jeans and a sweatshirt. Next on my list is a call to my parents to fill them in on what happened at The Harbor House so they don’t flip out. Guess what? They flip out anyway. I do my best to reassure them that despite having found another dead body, I’m doing just fine.
I get off the phone and check my computer again.
Still no reply from Rocko. He probably won’t answer till tomorrow—
A pinging sound tells me that my email server has just refreshed. I have a new message from Rocko!
Thanks, Lucy. I’m getting better every day. I’ll add pecans to your list. Can’t wait to hear what kind of muffins you’ll be making with those. Sorry about the delivery confusion. Mike is Jimmy’s son. He wasn’t scheduled to make deliveries on your route. He can be a little rough. Hope he did okay. I’ll make sure Jimmy takes care of you from now on.
Mmmm…
I scan the email again.
Rocko is trying to be professional, but I can certainly read between the lines. He had no idea that his nephew was making our deliveries.
I’ve caught Mike in two lies now. The first time was when he said Rocko was taking a vacation (ha!) and the second time is when he said he’d never been near a crime scene.
Hey, we all have our secrets.
“You’re not planning to kill anyone, are you?” I tease.
“Not today.”
My heart nearly explodes from my chest.
Holy wow.
I think I’ve just found El Tigre.
14
I talk myself through it one more time.
Fact: Mike knows his way around The Bistro including the kitchen and the parking lot. When I think of how eager he was to take out our trash! It should have been a big fat red flag. I mean, how many delivery guys offer to take out your trash?
Zilch.
Fact: He lied to me about never having been around a crime scene. Ha! According to Agent Billings, El Tigre practically wrote the crime scene handbook.
Fact: He had plenty of time to whack Eddie “The Hatchet”, stuff the body in the bathroom, and have the valet bring him his truck all before Paco discovered what he’d done.
To think, there I was sipping on a mimosa trying to make small talk with a man who doesn’t even know the difference between a muffin and a cupcake. I should have known then he was a sociopath.
Fact: Agent Billings said El Tigre was from New York. Mike is from New Jersey. Same thing.
Fact: Mike keeps a gun in his glove compartment!
How much more evidence do I need?
My blood begins to boil. Here I thought he was flirting with me when all this time he was scoping out my café for one of his body dump sites.
Well, he’s not going to get away with it. Not any of it.
Paco and I head straight to Will’s place.
He looks surprised to see me. “I thought you were on a date with this Mike guy.”
I walk in and plop down on one of his leather sofas. “I was, but luckily I escaped with my life.”
“Sounds like the date from hell.”
“You have no idea.”
No use in beating around the bush. “Paco found another dead body in the outdoor bathroom at The Harbor House. And before you say it’s all a great big coincidence this makes the fourth body he’s found, which makes it statistically impossible. So see? He really is a ghost whisperer.”
Will collapses on the sofa next to me. “Four?”
“Before we begin, promise me you won’t tell Travis that I told you any of this. Or anyone else either.”
“What are we? Back in grade school?”
“This is really important, Will.”
“Okay, I promise.”
“I didn’t miss book club because of an after-hours delivery to The Bistro like I told everyone. I missed book club because on the way to Betty Jean’s house, Paco jumped out the car window.”
“While you were driving?”
“I’d just rolled to a stop.”
“He’s not hurt, is he?” Will picks Paco up and runs his hands down his back to reassure himself that he’s okay.
“No, thank God.”
“Why would he do something crazy like that?”
“He jumped out the car window and made me chase him down an empty soccer field near the city park. Where he led me to a dead guy, who’d been shot between the eyes.”
“A dead body? In the park?” Will takes a few seconds to absorb this. “Why hasn’t this come out in the news?”
“This is the part you really can’t tell anyone or the two of us might end up in Sing Sing or Rikers Island. Or worse, Quantico.”
“Lucy,” Will says with a chuckle, “Quantico isn’t a prison. It’s FBI headquarters.”
“Exactly. Ken Cameron, that’s the name of the dead guy in the park, was an FBI agent. They probably have a secret torture room at Quantico where they take people who know too much, and I have no desire to be waterboarded, thank you.”
“Seriously? An FBI agent? How do you know this?”
I tell Will everything that’s happened in the past few days, including the situation with Joey Frizzone.
“This is unbelievable. Why would Travis tell you any of this? Wouldn’t the FBI want to keep this strictly confidential?”
“Yes, but since I found the dead guy at the park I already knew too much, so to keep me quiet they had to fill me in. Remember t
he guy I followed to Dolphin Isles? He’s the dead FBI agent! The one Kitty Pappas thinks is a honeymooner. At first, Travis made me promise not to get involved in any way at all. But then, after I found that dead mobster in my dumpster, Agent Billings, she’s the one in charge of the whole enchilada, asked me if I could help.”
“The FBI wants your help?” he says incredulously. “What do they think you can do? You’re a baker, for God’s sake.”
“Hey! I’m a pretty fantastic baker, thank you.”
“That goes without saying, but come on, Lucy. Be real. How are you supposed to find some rogue hitman—”
“His name is El Tigre.”
Will grunts. “Sounds like something out of Scarface.”
“Doesn’t it?”
“My point being if the FBI can’t find this guy, how are you going to do it?”
“They’re installing cameras in The Bistro. Apparently, this El Tigre has some kind of signature move that involves revisiting his crime scenes to leave a clue.”
“He goes back to his crime scenes?
“It’s like he’s flaunting it in their faces. Which means he’s coming back to The Bistro in the next couple of days. That’s how they’re hoping to catch him. Sarah doesn’t know anything about any of this. Since I already know what’s going on, they’re hoping I can help identify anyone who comes back to the café that I might find suspicious.”
Will stiffens. “Last night, when you didn’t want me to check out the parking lot on my own, that’s because you thought El Tigre was out there?”
“Sorry, I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t.”
Will rakes a hand through his hair. “I don’t like it. I don’t think the FBI should involve you in this.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re a civilian!”
“You’ve forgotten I’ve already solved one of their cold cases. The Angel of Death, remember?”
“And you also almost got yourself killed in the process.”
