by Maria Geraci
“I did call. Twice. Your phone went straight to voice mail.”
“Voice mail?” I pull my cell phone out of my tote. I forgot I’d silenced it when I settled in for the yoga class. I scroll through to find two calls from Travis and … oh, no.
Will!
With everything going on, I completely forgot I have a date with Will tonight. I check my watch. It’s almost nine. Correction: I had a date with Will.
11
I immediately text Will.
So sorry I missed our evening!
I almost texted “date” but thought better of it. He texts back almost immediately.
Are you all right??
Yes.
Explain please.
Can I come over?
I’m waiting.
Is there still pizza, or did you eat it all?
He texts back with an evil smiley face, but I know that he’s pulling my chain because no way would Will dare eat an entire Tiny’s pizza without me.
First things first, though. I go by my place to let out Paco. After doing his business, he jumps into the back seat of my car. Apparently he, too, wants to know what’s been going on, so we drive over to Will’s house together.
Before I even get a chance to knock, Will throws back the front door and pulls me into his living room. “I’ve been worried sick about you.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Where have you been? I’ve been calling you all night.”
“First, pizza. I’m absolutely starving.”
He shakes his head like he can’t believe that I’m thinking of food at a time like this, but he comes back from the kitchen with a pizza box, two plates, two beers, and a bowl of water for Paco.
While we’re eating, I fill him in on everything Travis told me.
“I can’t believe Fontaine sent Rusty to drag you out of that meeting.”
“It’s like he said, he has to make sure I get treated like any other person.”
“He got one thing right though. You’re in no way responsible for what happened to Tara.”
I lay my plate down on the coffee table. “That’s just it, Will. I feel responsible. At least a teeny bit. What was Tara coming over to tell me?”
“We’ll never know the answer to that, Lucy.”
“Not good enough.”
“I hope that doesn’t mean what I think it means.”
“I offered to help the police, but Travis refused to even consider it.”
“Smart guy,” he mutters.
I look at Will. “I told Travis about my gift.”
Will looks surprised. “Why did you—never mind. What did he say?”
“He completely brushed me off. Even though I gave him ample proof,” I add in disgust.
“You have to admit, Lucy, it’s kind of hard to believe.” Something in his voice makes me sit up.
“But you believe it.”
“How long have I known you?” Will asks, as if this answers my question, but something in his voice tickles my Spidey sense.
I pick up my plate again, but suddenly I’m not hungry. I wonder what Will would say if I told him I’ve never caught him in a lie. This is definitely something I think I should tell him, but only when I’m ready to tell him how I feel about him.
“So here’s what I’m thinking,” I say. “Gilly is the most logical suspect since she had both opportunity and motive.”
“Motive?”
“She’s running around being Tara, isn’t she?”
“True.”
“Travis let slip that Tara had multiple visitors the night she died. Any one of them, including Gilly, could have given her the cyanide.”
“How are you going to find out who these visitors were if Travis won’t tell you?”
“By doing my own investigation. Once I know who came to see Tara, then I can try to figure out who had the best motive.”
“I thought you said Travis made you promise not to get involved.”
“That was before I found out that Tara needed my help. That completely negates anything I might have promised Officer Fontaine.”
“I don’t think—”
“I’ll need your help, you know. I can’t do this without you.”
“Why am I always being bamboozled into these schemes of yours?”
“Because you’re my best friend. That’s why.”
The next morning we start bright and early.
“I can’t believe I’m taking a vacation day for this.” Will fills his thermal coffee cup to the brim.
“Since The Bistro is still closed, it’s a perfect day for sleuthing. Starting tomorrow, it’s back to the same old routine, so suck it up. Plus, you’re getting free muffins out of this.”
“True,” he grumbles right before he takes a bite out of an orange cranberry muffin.
I show him the notes I made up. “Here’s a list of everyone Tara would have known in town.”
“What if she was killed by someone from out of town? Have you thought about that?”
“Yes, but first we have to eliminate the most obvious suspects. That would be anyone involved with the show through either the production team or one of the other contestants.”
“What if Wendy Figueroa is the killer? If Wendy gets sent to the big house, that would be the end of Tiny’s Pizza. No one in town is going to thank us for that.”
I swat him over the head with the paper.
He chuckles, then swipes the paper from my hand and quickly peruses it. “Mrs. Torres who owns La Cantina? Seriously? That’s like suspecting Mother Teresa.”
“Well of course Juanita didn’t poison Tara, but we have to go through everyone on the list. There’s a methodical approach to this, and I intend to take it.” I check my watch. “Okay, it’s a little after seven, which means the—”
There’s a knock on The Bistro’s front door. We turn around and spy Brittany and Darren through the large glass pane. Brittany waves to us. “Yoo-hoo! I know you’re closed, but can we come in?”
I unlock the door for them. “You two are up bright and early.”
“Darren needs a muffin fix,” says Brittany. “He’s completely hooked on your blueberry muffins.”
Even though blueberry is the most boring muffin of all, I’m still quite pleased.
Darren flushes. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you’d still be closed.”
“The police said we can reopen tomorrow. No worries, though. I have some blueberry muffins in the kitchen. They’re a couple of days old, but they’re still fresh enough.”
Will pours them coffee. I offer Brittany a muffin as well, but she declines it just like I knew she would. “I can’t do carbs first thing in the morning, but thanks, Lucy.” She takes a sip of her coffee and inspects my outfit. Jeans, T-shirt, ponytail. “What are you up to today?”
Will and I look at each other. “Will is going to help me taste-test some new recipes,” I lie.
“Sounds like fun,” says Brittany.
The little hairs on my neck stand up like I knew they would because Brittany has just lied right back to me. Despite the fact her family owns a restaurant, Brittany takes great pride in the fact that she can barely boil water.
“How about you two?” I ask them. “What are you up to?”
“We’re putting the finishing touches on a joint PR campaign. Wait till you see it! Darren is really creative.”
He smiles indulgently. “Brittany is the talented one. I’ve learned a lot from her these past couple of days.”
The hair on my neck goes rigid. Huh. I hadn’t pegged Darren as disingenuous. I suppose he can’t help but experience some professional jealousy. Even though it looks like Battle of the Beach Eats isn’t going to be filmed here in Whispering Bay after all, Brittany’s job must seem like a piece of cake compared with the mess he’s dealing with in Catfish Cove.
Brittany pulls out her cellphone and shows me a few of the taglines she and Darren have worked on. Her gaze flits over to the paper with my list of suspects. B
efore I can stop her, she picks it up.
“What’s this?” She quickly reads off the names. “Lucy, is this what I think it is?”
“Well … ”
Brittany’s face lights up. “You’re not taste-testing recipes! You’re going to investigate Tara’s murder, aren’t you?” She turns to Darren. “Lucy is the most amazing detective. She’s already solved like a bazillion crimes that baffled both the police and the FBI.”
“Really?” Darren looks impressed.
“Well, not a bazillion exactly,” I say, trying to sound modest. “And Brittany, can you keep this on the down low? If Travis finds out, he won’t be happy.”
Recognition settles over Darren’s face. “You’re the one who caught El Tigre. I should have put it together sooner, but I’m afraid that whole episode coincided with the pipe burst, so I wasn’t paying much attention to the news.”
“Understandable.”
Darren looks like he’s about to say something else when Brittany stands up. “Sorry to run, but we have a meeting in thirty minutes with a graphic designer.”
Darren thanks me for the muffins and coffee.
“Best of luck with your secret project!” Brittany calls on her way out the door as if catching Tara’s murderer will be the easiest thing in the world.
Once they’re gone, I tidy up. I’m about to close the front door when Paco comes trotting down the stairs with his leash in his mouth and a determined gleam in his eyes.
“Looks like someone wants to go on a walk,” says Will.
Paco shakes his head from side to side.
Will laughs. “Did you see that?”
“Yep.” I narrow my eyes at my too-smart-for-his-own-good dog. “I suppose you think we should take you along, huh?”
He barks, momentarily dropping the leash, then quickly picks it back up again.
Will looks stunned. “Do you think he knows what we’re doing?”
“I have no idea. But I think we should take him along. Just in case.” I bend down and look Paco in the eye. “What do you say, boy? Want to help Mommy find a killer?”
12
First, we start with Gilly. Not only did she have opportunity, she might have had the most to gain from Tara’s death, which makes her suspect numero uno in my book. We drive to the beach house, and the three of us march up to the front door.
I ring the bell and wait.
“It’s barely eight,” says Will. “Maybe they’re all still asleep.”
“Good. We want to catch Gilly unaware. That way she’ll be more susceptible to letting something slip.”
Will looks at me sideways.
“That’s how they do it in the movies and on America’s Most Vicious Criminals. They always arrest people at the crack of dawn. Not only are they more likely to be at home, you’re most vulnerable when you’re in your pajamas and before you’ve had your first cup of coffee. Watch the reruns if you don’t believe me.”
I ring the bell again.
“One more thing,” says Will. “Am I good cop or bad cop?”
Now it’s my turn to give him a sideways look.
“What?” he says. “I’ve always wanted to play that game.”
Before I can respond, the door opens. Gilly is dressed in sweats, and her long, dark hair looks messy, like we just dragged her out of bed. Good. She’s definitely uncaffeinated. “Lucy, what are you doing here?”
“Can I come in? This is my friend Will Cunningham, and you know Paco.”
“I’m not sure I should speak to you without the police present.”
“Come on. You can’t really think that I had anything to do with Tara’s death.”
“We’ll only be a few minutes,” says Will. He gives her one of his winning smiles, which does the trick.
“All right, but I don’t have much time.”
The three of us settle into the living room, Will and I on the sofa and Paco at my feet.
“So what it is you want exactly?” Gilly takes a seat across from us, rearranging her legs so that her bare feet are tucked beneath her. Streaks of early morning sunlight filter in through the windows, giving me a better look at her face. Her eyelids are puffy, like she’s been crying.
Crying because she feels guilty? Or crying because she’s saddened by Tara’s death?
“Are you okay?” I ask her.
She stiffens. “I’m fine.”
She doesn’t look fine, but Gilly’s well-being isn’t my concern right now, so I launch into my first question. “Who else came to see Tara besides me that night?”
“How do you know anyone else came to see her?” she asks suspiciously.
This is tricky because I don’t want to get Travis into trouble, so I decide it’s easier to lie. “I saw a car pull up as I was leaving. I assumed it must to be someone coming to speak to Tara.”
“Like I said before, I’m not sure I should discuss this with you.”
“Then how about you tell me what you were doing at The Bistro the morning Tara died? It’s a mighty big coincidence that you just happened to waltz into my kitchen seconds after I found her dead on my floor.”
“I … I woke up and found her bed empty. I figured she’d gone out for a drive. I thought she might be with you.”
The hairs on my neck practically go into cardiac arrest. Now we’re getting somewhere! I’ve just caught Gilly in a huge whopper.
“Why did you think she’d be at my place so early in the morning?”
“Well … you’d been here the night before, and she seemed kind of off after you left. When I spotted her car in your parking lot, it was a huge relief.”
Huh. This is true. Not that it makes any sense.
“Did you usually keep such close tabs on Tara?”
Our conversation is cut off when Alan walks into the living room. A duffel bag hangs off his shoulder, and he’s carrying what looks like his camera equipment. “I’m all packed up,” he tells Gilly.
“You’re leaving?” I ask.
“There’s nothing for me to do here now that filming has been suspended, so yeah, Pete and I just got a gig with a documentary crew up in Alaska. Gotta pay the bills, you know?”
Alaska in November? No, thank you.
“So Pete’s leaving too?”
“He left last night.” Alan hands Gilly an envelope. “Be a doll and make sure Dave over at The Draft House gets this. I’d bring it over myself, but they’re closed right now, and I got a plane to catch.”
“What do I look like? Your errand girl?”
“Aren’t you the production assistant?” he sneers.
“Not my fault you and Pete got drunk Saturday night and tore up some beer hall. In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t have to clean up your messes anymore.”
Alan’s phone pings. “That’s my Uber. Look, Gilly, are you gonna help me or not?”
“I know The Draft House,” says Will. “I can drop that off if you want.”
“For real? Thanks, man.” He plucks the envelope from Gilly’s hand and gives it to Will. “Tell Dave I’m sorry. There should be enough cash in there to cover all the damages.” On his way out the door, he turns and mock-salutes Gilly. “Thanks for nothing.”
“Thank God I don’t have to deal with those two cretins anymore,” she mutters. She rises from her seat. “That’s enough questions. I need to pack.”
“You’re leaving too?”
“Tomorrow morning. Like Alan said, there’s no use staying here if we aren’t filming.”
“What will you do?”
She hesitates a moment before saying, “I’m going to be taking over Tara’s job until the network decides who they’re going to get to replace her. Which means I need to scout out more locations for our next season of Battle of the Beach Eats.”
“So Whispering Bay is definitely out?”
“I’m afraid so. Besides, we can only film here if the restaurants actually want to participate.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
S
he frowns like she’s said too much. “I think you should go now, Lucy.” She gets up and turns her back on us. “Don’t let the door hit you on your way out.”
“So what’s the verdict?” Will asks. “Did Gilly kill Tara?”
I wait till we get inside the car to answer. “She’s sneaky, all right. Did you notice how she kept dodging my questions, or worse, answering my question with a question? It’s a classic case of redirection.”
“I take it that means you don’t know.”
“It’s not so simple. I just caught Gilly in a big lie. She said she was worried when she found Tara’s bed empty the morning of the murder, but concern wasn’t the emotion I picked up on. Gilly was terrified that Tara wasn’t in her bed.”
“Terrified? Couldn’t that be the same as really worried?”
“Sometimes, but not in this case. She wasn’t terrified for Tara; she was terrified for herself. This is twice now that I’ve gotten that same vibe from Gilly. When Rusty pulled me out of the meeting yesterday, she was panicked when she first saw him, which leads me to think she definitely feels guilty about something.”
“If she killed Tara, wouldn’t it stand to reason that she’d feel guilty?”
“Possibly. Or maybe her guilt comes from some other place. I’m not sure.”
“Is the Lucy-meter broken?”
“Be serious. This is what we know. Tara was found dead in my kitchen on Sunday morning. The time of death was between 2 and 3 a.m. According to an eyewitness, Tara left the beach house around two and she was driving erratically, which means she was already poisoned and feeling the effects. So why get in a car and drive if you feel badly? Why not call 911 or better yet, wake up your trusted assistant and ask for help? Unless said trusted assistant isn’t so trustworthy after all.”
“Let’s say Gilly did poison Tara,” Will says. “Maybe she didn’t mean to kill her. Maybe she only wanted to put her out of commission for a few days so Gilly could take over her job. Even if it was just temporary. You know, the old show-them-what-I-can-do-if-I-was-in-charge scenario? In case you didn’t notice, she got a big kick out of putting Alan in his place back there.”
