Whispering Bay Cozy Mysteries Box Set

by Maria Geraci

  When we get inside, my dad is in the kitchen putting together a salad, and Will and Sebastian are in the living room. No one seems surprised that Brittany is joining us. It’s like mom said, she’s already part of the McGuffin clan.

  At dinner, the talk naturally goes to the day’s big event. Everyone speculates on the cause of Tara’s death.

  “When do you think they’ll get back the autopsy report?” Sebastian asks.

  Paco, who’s lying at my feet, perks up. He looks at me like he’d like the answer to that too, thank you.

  “I think those things take a few days.”

  “You’ll see. It’s all a big misunderstanding,” Mom says cheerfully as she passes me the noodles. “She was probably on drugs. All those TV people are. I’m sure that’s what killed her.”

  Sebastian clears his throat. “That doesn’t seem like a nice thing to say, Mom.”

  “Oh, I don’t mean it that way. I only saw the poor woman a couple of times around town, but she always seemed so … manic. She was probably on those crazy diet pills that act like speed. I thought the FDA outlawed them, but I’m sure you can get anything illegally if you have enough money.”

  “For Pete’s sake, do we always have to talk about death at this table?” Dad grumbles.

  “You’re right,” Mom says. “Let’s change the subject.” She smiles at my brother. “When do you think they’ll start working on the roof at St. Perpetua’s?”

  The roof on St. Perpetua’s Catholic Church, where my brother is pastor, has been leaking something awful. He’d just organized a big fund-raiser to collect money for a new roof when a mysterious benefactor donated the entire amount. Which is awesome not just for the church but for my brother because he hates asking for money.

  “We’re in the process of getting bids right now,” says Sebastian. “But I expect work will start sometime next month.”

  “Did you ever find out who donated all that money?” Dad asks.

  Sebastian reaches out for a second helping of beef stroganoff. “The donor wants to remain anonymous.”

  The hair on my neck starts to tingle.

  Now that was a sidestep if I ever heard one. Sebastian didn’t lie, but my Spidey sense tells me that my brother knows exactly who donated the money. Which I suppose makes sense since someone would have to know. Unless the money just showed up, but I can’t imagine anyone leaving a huge bag of cash on the church doorstep.

  My brain starts to go into overdrive.

  Who in Whispering Bay is rich enough to donate six figures to the church? Once this whole Tara thing is over, maybe I’ll concentrate on solving this. Not that I would reveal the source of an anonymous donation. But it would be kind of fun to see if I can figure out this puzzle.

  “Guess who I ran into at the Piggly Wiggly?” asks Mom.

  Considering Whispering Bay has a population of roughly ten thousand, I’m guessing it could be any one of the nine thousand plus other people not at the table right now.

  “Who?” I ask, playing along.

  “Betty Jean.” There’s a pause. “She invited me to join her book club.”

  “Oh, she did, did she?”

  Sebastian lays down his fork. “You turned her down, right?”

  “Well … ”

  “I thought you said you’d never join her book club on account of how she kicked out your own flesh and blood,” I say.

  “But that was before. Darling, she wants you back! And … well, she’s promised me that she’s going to get J.W. Quicksilver to attend a meeting.” Mom’s voice hitches with excitement. “Can you imagine? A novelist with his kind of clout here in little old Whispering Bay!”

  “Betty Jean can promise all she wants,” says Dad, “but that doesn’t mean she’s going to get him.”

  “I have to agree with Dad. I wouldn’t get my hopes up too much on that score. He’s a pretty big name and from what I’ve read, kind of a recluse.”

  “I just finished the first book in his spy series, Assassin’s Blood,” announces Brittany.

  “Really?” I’m surprised because it doesn’t seem like Brittany’s kind of book.

  “The last time I had dinner here, you were all talking about him, so I was curious. And since so many people in town are fans of his, I felt like it was essential that I read him too. Part of being the chamber of commerce PR person is to stay in touch with the pulse of the community. And if Betty Jean Collins can get a national best-selling author like him to attend one of her book club meetings, I’m going to try to persuade him to do a book signing. It would be great exposure for the library. What do you think, Will?”

  Everyone stops eating to listen to his answer. It’s no secret that Will thinks J.W. Quicksilver is a hack.

  “I think George is right. If this J.R. Quicksilver doesn’t do signings or attend book club meetings, he probably won’t start doing it now. No matter how many emails Betty Jean sends him.”

  “Will!” Mom chides. “You can never get his name right. It’s J.W., not J.R.”

  “Sorry,” he says, but I don’t miss the tease in his blue eyes. I’m positive now that Will has read J.W.’s books. And I’m going to get him to admit it.

  I turn to Brittany. “What did you think of the book?”

  “Well … it certainly had some exciting bits, but honestly, just between us, he’s not a very good writer. That is to say,” she rushes to add diplomatically, “his style just isn’t for me. I guess I’m a bit of a book snob. Like Will, I prefer classic literature.” She beams at Will, looking for support.

  But Will doesn’t say anything. Instead he calmly reaches out for his wineglass and takes a sip.

  “I think he’s got a really great voice,” I say. “Sure, he’s no F. Scott Fitzgerald, but I don’t think that’s what he’s going for anyway.”

  “I agree, Lucy. I think he’s really talented,” says Dad. “If Betty Jean can persuade him to come to town, more power to her. I just wouldn’t hold my breath, is all.”

  The doorbell rings, causing Paco to sit up and bark happily as opposed to his I’m-gonna-get-whoever’s-at-the-front-door bark. It’s like he knows there’s a friend waiting to come inside.

  Dad lays down his napkin. “I’ll get it.”

  He comes back a minute later with Travis. He’s out of uniform, so he isn’t on the clock. “Sorry to interrupt, folks,” he says, nodding to everyone at the table, “but I need to speak to Lucy.”

  “Now?” Mom tsks. “Certainly not. She’s eating dinner. Pull up a seat and join us.”

  “Oh, he can’t,” I say. “Travis is on a special diet. He’s training for a big 10K run next month.” I know I’m being childish, but I can’t help myself. I nod toward the kitchen. “We can talk in there.”

  But Mom isn’t about to let anyone escape from her Sunday dinner table. “Not so fast, young lady. There’s nothing Travis has to say to you that he can’t say in front of your family. And what’s wrong with my beef stroganoff?”

  “You might as well sit down and eat, or Molly will hold it against you for the rest of your life,” Dad tells Travis.

  Travis eyes the beef stroganoff like a hungry castaway on Survivor. “Thanks. I’d love to stay.” He plops himself down at the table across from me.

  “Glad that’s settled.” Mom shoos me off with her hand. “Lucy, go get an extra plate and some utensils.” Since this isn’t a request, I go ahead and do as I’m told.

  Dad fills Travis’s plate with enough food for two starving men. “So, how do you like Whispering Bay? Must be quite a change from Dallas.”

  “It is,” says Travis, “but I’m growing to like it.” He looks my way. “Quite a bit as a matter of fact.”

  I feel my cheeks go pink. Ack. I hope no one notices.

  “I think it’s wonderful how you moved here to be close to your father,” says Mom. “Isn’t it, Lucy?”

  “Yeah, it’s great.”

  Travis’s father, Jim, is a retired homicide detective and a widower. He came out here
to live a few months ago, and Travis, who’s his only child, followed. Jim is one of the few people who know about my gift. Normally, I would never have confided something so personal to a near stranger, but from the instant I met Jim, he felt like a kindred spirit.

  “So what kind of schedule do they have you on?” Will asks Travis. “We haven’t seen you on the court in a while.”

  Travis and Will play in the same basketball league. When Travis first moved to town a month ago, it seemed like the two of them were going to be fast friends, but lately, I’ve noticed Will hasn’t mentioned him as much.

  “Yeah, I’m pulling a lot of night shifts. Low man on the totem pole, you know?”

  “Well, I hope your schedule allows you some socialization,” Mom says. “I know when we spoke last, you said you didn’t have time to join Young Catholic Singles, but look at Lucy! She’s busy with her restaurant, and she still finds the time for important activities. Plus,” she adds slyly, “you never know where you’re going to meet the one. Young Catholic Singles is where I met George, and look how well that turned out!”

  If my face went pink before, it’s red now. I need to clear this up before I end up in hell for lying to my mom.

  “So, Mom, I kind of had to … drop out of the group.” You can’t drop out of something you were never a part of, but if I tell her that, she’ll have a stroke.

  “Drop out of what group? You mean—”

  “I’m not part of Young Catholic Singles.” I cringe, waiting for what, I’m not quite sure, but I feel like it’s going to be epic. This is going to be worse than the time back in fourth grade when I dropped out of Girl Scouts while Mom was still the leader. Worse than when I told her I wasn’t going to become a teacher (Mom’s life plan for me). Worse than—

  “Lucy isn’t part of Young Catholic Singles,” says Travis, “because she’s not exactly single anymore. She and I are dating.”

  What?

  “Well!” Mom whips around in her seat. “Lucy, why didn’t you say something before? This is wonderful!”

  “Um, actually—”

  “Lucy wanted to keep it quiet for now,” says Travis. “It’s still in the early stages. Right, sweetheart?”

  I smile weakly, because what else can I do?

  Brittany claps like this is the best thing ever. “Awesome! But Lucy,” she scolds playfully, “I’m your best friend. You should have told me.”

  Sebastian smiles but still manages to look skeptical about the whole thing.

  Will openly glares at Travis, and Dad just keeps eating.

  Mom takes this opportunity to grill Travis on his background. It’s like she’s interviewing him for a potential son-in-law position. To my complete mortification, we discover:

  A. He’s thirty (something I already knew).

  B. He’s never been married and has fathered no children out of wedlock (yes, my mother really did ask him this).

  C. Oh, yes, he wants to get married. One day. To the right girl.

  After dessert, Mom takes Brittany by the hand. “Help me in the kitchen, dear. You too, Will. George, Sebastian, chop chop! All hands needed on deck.”

  It takes Brittany a few seconds to catch on. Dad and Sebastian immediately do as they’re told. Will goes too, but he seems reluctant to leave Travis and me alone. My mother has to practically drag him out of the dining room.

  Molly McGuffin is about as subtle as a freight train. If my face was red before, now it’s purple.

  “What was that about?” I demand once Travis and I are alone.

  “This is where you thank me for saving your bacon.”

  “Saving my … we are not dating.”

  “Only because you haven’t said yes yet, but you will.”

  “What about Grace? The two of you seemed pretty cozy the other night at The Burger Barn.”

  Travis grins. “Grace and I are just friends. But the fact that you’re jealous only goes to prove my point.”

  “Your ego is unbelievable. I hope you know what you started here. My mother is never going to let this go. You might as well kiss your life goodbye.”

  “No worries. Let me handle your mom. I like her. She reminds me of my mother.”

  This shuts me up. It’s the first time Travis has mentioned his mother to me. I know she passed away last year. It must still be hard for him and his dad. I wish I knew what to say here, but I’m horrible at this kind of thing.

  “Think of this as a temporary reprieve,” Travis continues. “She won’t harass you anymore about Young Catholic Singles, and you can take this time to figure out who you want to date, Cunningham or me. Have you told him? That you have feelings for him?”

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but no.”

  “As your boyfriend, I’d say it’s definitely my business. You want to know what I think? I think the reason you haven’t told him is because you’re not so sure about those feelings anymore. Am I right?”

  Talk about cocky! Travis’s arrogance knows no bounds. Although … I have to admit, it’s kind of sexy.

  “First off, you’re not my—forget it. You said you had something to tell me. What’s going on with the case?”

  He turns serious. “The preliminary lab results came back on your muffins. They found cyanide sprinkled on top.”

  For the first time in my life, I’m speechless.

  “The amount found probably wouldn’t be enough to kill Tara right away, but it sure would make her sick. Especially if she ate two of them.”

  “Are you accusing me of trying to poison Tara?”

  His eyes flash with something between anger and indignation. “Of course not. But it looks bad right now. Especially with Gilly running around telling everyone how you wanted to poison Tara.” He reaches out and places his hand on my arm. “You have to promise me something.”

  “What?” I croak.

  “You have to let me handle this. You have to step away, Lucy.”

  “Step away? What does that—”

  “It means no going behind anyone’s back and trying to investigate on your own. No sneaking around and trying to find clues. No talking to witnesses. You have to trust me to find out what happened. Can you do that?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “No.”

  I glance down at Paco. He looks up at me with his big brown doggie eyes like he’s worried. He nudges me with his wet nose. I know he’s urging me to give Travis an answer, and I know what he wants that answer to be. Paco isn’t the only one who might be able to read minds.

  “Okay, I trust you.”

  “Thank you,” he says solemnly.

  I walk Travis to the front door, feeling like a zombie. He asks me to thank my mother again for dinner and makes me promise once more to let him handle everything. All I can do is nod.

  Holy wow.

  Someone poisoned Tara.

  And they used my muffins to do it.

  Which means someone in Whispering Bay is trying to frame me for murder.

  8

  After all the dishes have been cleared, Sebastian and Brittany go home, but Will hangs back. “Walk me out?” he asks.

  I kiss my mom and dad goodbye, then Paco and I follow Will to his car.

  The second we’re outside, he turns to me. “What was all that about? Are you and Fontaine really dating?”

  “No. Absolutely not. He only said that to get Mom off my back. But that’s not important now. Nothing is definite yet, but it looks like Tara might have been poisoned. And … ” I can barely say the next part out loud without shuddering. “The muffins I brought her? The cops had them taken to the lab, on account of I told Gilly that I wish I’d poisoned them, and—”

  “You what?”

  “It was a joke! Like when a person says ‘I could kill you’ or something. Anyway, pay attention. Travis says the preliminary lab report found traces of cyanide in my muffins. In my muffins, Will! And it looks as if she ate two of them. We have to wait for the autopsy report, but if it comes back that Ta
ra did die of cyanide poisoning, I could be making a visit to Ol’ Sparky.”

  The corner of Will’s mouth twitches up. “Ol’ Sparky, huh?”

  “Brittany thinks it’s a possibility.”

  “FYI, Florida doesn’t use the electric chair anymore. It’s death by lethal injection. But you want to know what I think? I think your mother has it all wrong. It’s the Whispering Bay Police Department that’s on drugs, not Tara. You wouldn’t hurt a fly, much less a person.”

  “Well, I might hurt a squirrel.”

  He grins. “Squirrels don’t count.”

  Will and I lock gazes, and I know we’re thinking of the same memory.

  When I was seven, a pack of evil squirrels (three to be exact) nearly ruined my birthday party by swooping down out of the trees and going after my birthday cake. On impulse, I grabbed the cake and ran as the squirrels chased me down. Luckily, Will took action. Just as the squirrels were about to overpower me, he spooked them off, saving both me and my cake from a fate worse than death. I remember it all down to the last detail because not only was that the day I acquired sciurophobia, it’s the day I fell in love with Will.

  “Seriously, though,” I say. “Someone has it out for me. Because how else did that cyanide get on my muffins? I certainly didn’t put it there.”

  “The lab is as incompetent as the cops. Your muffins were probably contaminated from some other source. Right now, this is all just guesswork. Until they have the autopsy results, they don’t even know the official cause of death, do they?”

  I have to admit, I’m beginning to feel better. “No, but Travis is pretty certain it’s a cyanide poisoning. He says he’s seen it once before.”

  “Oh, so that makes him an expert, huh? Still, I’m going to agree with Fontaine on one thing. Let the cops handle this. Eventually they’ll get it right. Use this time off to relax. Sleep in. Read a good book. I’ll come over tomorrow after work, and we’ll catch up on our show.”

  “On a Monday night?”

  “Yeah, on a Monday night.”