Whack The Mole

by Maria Geraci

  “Want a muffin with that?” I ask Man Bun.

  “What kind you got?”

  I point to the handwritten menu on the chalkboard above his head. “Today’s special is the pumpkin spice, but we also have blueberry, double chocolate chip, and apple walnut cream cheese.” The only reason I put blueberry muffins on the menu is because so many people like them, but personally, I find them boring.

  “I’ll try the blueberry,” he says.

  Figures.

  “Wade!” Tara screeches from across the café startling everyone within a half mile. “Keep filming!”

  Three people from the back of the café get up to leave. On their way out the door they shake their heads at me as if this invasion of their privacy is somehow my fault.

  Thanks a lot, Cooking Channel.

  I give Man Bun his order, and he manages to both eat and film at the same time.

  Then Rusty and Travis walk in. It’s the first time I’ve seen Travis since the night I discovered Ken Cameron’s body. Paco runs over to greet them.

  Travis scratches Paco in his favorite spot behind his ears. ‘Hey, Lucy.”

  “Hi,” I say trying to act “normal” per his previous instructions. “What’ll it be today?”

  Rusty pulls a paper from his pocket. “Six lattes, two dozen muffins—assorted but heavy on the double chocolate chip--four turkey sandwiches, and three tubs of Sarah’s mac and cheese.”

  Six lattes? It’s hard not to smirk at this ridiculousness. “And this will be to go?” I ask punching the order into the computer.

  “Yep,” says Travis. As if he senses someone behind him, he turns to find Man Bun pointing a camera at him.

  “Get that thing out of my face,” Travis warns.

  “Chill out. Just act natural, dude.”

  “What’s going on?” asks Rusty.

  “This is the crew from the Cooking Channel. They’re here today to take some footage of the café.”

  “We’ll be filming all the participating restaurants in town,” says Tara. “It will help us decide whether or not we want to pick Whispering Bay for our next season of Battle of the Beach Eats.”

  Rusty puffs out his chest. “Russell Newton, twenty-two-year veteran of the Whispering Bay Police Department at your service,” he says directly into the camera.

  “Nice to meet you, Russell!” Tara says. “But we don’t want you talking to the camera. You’re supposed to pretend like we’re not here.”

  “Oh. Sorry.” Rusty looks off in the other direction, but it looks awkward like he’s avoiding the camera which is the exact opposite of what Tara is going for.

  Travis looks tense. Not that I blame him. Here they are on a super top-secret mission to get muffins for Joey “The Weasel” and his FBI team, and they’re being filmed while doing it.

  “Who’s going to be looking at this film?” he asks.

  “Just me and a few other producers from the network,” says Tara. She studies Travis with interest. “Has anyone ever told you that you look like Ryan Reynolds?”

  “Doesn’t he?” says Betty Jean, who I hadn’t noticed before in line. “I was the first one in town to point it out.”

  Tara hands Travis a business card. “I also do some freelance work for the Bravo channel. They’re looking for eligible guys for a new reality dating show. Interested? If you’re single, I can practically guarantee you a spot.”

  “I’d be interested,” says Rusty. “Only don’t tell my girlfriend. She’d skin me alive.”

  Tara ignores Rusty. “So what do you say?” she asks Travis.

  “Thanks, but the answer is no.”

  Sarah comes out from the kitchen with two big paper bags and hands them to Travis, who thanks her. “Let’s go,” he says to Rusty. “See you later, Lucy.”

  I wave goodbye as they head out. Too bad I didn’t have a chance to ask Travis how things were progressing in the Ken Cameron investigation. Although I doubt he’d tell me anything anyway.

  Sally from the library comes up to the counter to order. “Hey, Lucy! I’ll have a double chocolate chip muffin and a coffee. To go.” She glances back at the door. “Who were those cops I just saw on my way in? One of them is really cute.”

  “The older one is Rusty Newton, and the younger one is Travis Fontaine. He’s new in town too.”

  “Married?”

  “I assume you’re asking about Travis and not Rusty?” I tease.

  She makes a face. “Yeah.”

  “Not married.”

  “Girlfriend?”

  It occurs to me that this might be the perfect solution to my Travis problem. Sally is probably around thirty. She’s cute and smart and funny. She and Travis would be perfect together. “He’s single and completely available.”

  “Nice. I was beginning to think this town might be too dull for me. Now I just have to figure out how to run into that hunka-hunka burning love again and make him fall at my feet.”

  I laugh a little too hard because it’s really not that funny.

  I hand Sally her coffee and muffin. “Thanks.” She lowers her voice. “Betty Jean was at the library yesterday afternoon. She told everyone who’d listen that she kicked you out of her book club. What happened?”

  Since I can’t tell Sally about finding Ken Cameron dead in the park, I have to keep up the lie I’ve told everyone else. “I got distracted by a late delivery here at The Bistro and forgot all about the book club meeting. By the time I called to apologize she was pretty upset.”

  “And the old bat kicked you out because of that?”

  “Apparently there’s a long waiting list to join.”

  Sally shakes her head in disgust. “Geez.”

  An idea occurs to me. “Hey, maybe we can start our own book club. I have a few friends who might be interested.”

  “Yeah, that sounds great!”

  The little hairs on my neck tingle. Sally isn’t interested in starting a book club with me. This is one of those times that I hate my gift. Here we were having a perfectly lovely conversation, and I catch her in a lie.

  My ego might be bruised because I thought she liked me, but my brain tells me that I shouldn’t take it personally. Sally works all day in a library. The last thing she probably wants is to spend an evening with a bunch of women discussing books. I would react the same way if someone asked me to join a baking club.

  Despite Tara and Man Bun’s in-your-face presence, the rest of the morning goes by uneventfully. I’m about to take a break when Jim Fontaine comes in.

  “How’s the head, Lucy?” Jim is Travis’s dad. Even though I’ve only known him a couple of weeks, he’s already one of my favorite people.

  “Better today, thanks.”

  “Glad to hear that.” He orders coffee and a muffin.

  “What kind would you like?”

  “Surprise me,” he says, his green eyes friendly. It’s amazing how much father and son look alike, except Jim’s eyes give off a warm and cozy vibe, whereas Travis’s gaze is fierce. Except when it’s warm. Like the night I thought he was going to kiss me.

  Nope. Won’t think about that right now.

  I hand over an apple cream cheese walnut muffin because you can’t go wrong with that.

  “Have you taken a break this morning? I’d love to have you join me.”

  “Perfect timing,” I say, handing off counter duty to Sarah.

  Jim and I get a table in the back. We try to avoid Tara, but it’s impossible.

  “Have you seen Wade?” she asks. “I tell you, the help you get these days. No one takes their job seriously. If he doesn’t watch it, he’s going straight back to the public access channel.”

  “The last time I saw him he was in the pantry. I think.”

  So far, Tara and Man Bun have been all over the dining area, the kitchen, our bathrooms. The only place they haven’t been is upstairs in my apartment (that I know of). What more are they looking for? And better yet, why don’t they leave already? How much footage do these people n
eed?

  “Where’s that?” she demands.

  “The pantry? Just off the kitchen. Ask Sarah. She’ll show you. Now if you don’t mind, I’m taking a break.”

  “What’s that all about?” Jim asks as soon as Tara is out of earshot.

  I explain all about the audition for the Cooking Channel show.

  Jim settles into his chair. “I heard from a buddy of mine back in Dallas who worked the Angel of Death case with me. He’s pretty impressed with how you were able to figure it out.”

  “I got lucky is all.”

  He takes a sip of his coffee then places his cup down to give me a thoughtful look. “Your special skill definitely helped.” When I first told Jim about my gift he was skeptical. Not that I blame him. But he quickly came around after I solved the decades-old case. “Does Travis know? About how you’re able to—”

  “God no!”

  Jim raises a brow at what must seem like an overreaction on my part.

  “It’s just that… He’d probably find it hard to believe.”

  “I get it. But you should consider telling him, Lucy. He’s beating himself up thinking that he missed some big clue while investigating Abby’s murder. He feels responsible for the danger you were in.”

  “He shouldn’t.”

  “I agree.” Jim smiles kindly. “Regardless, it’s your secret to share. Not mine.” He fiddles with his coffee mug for a few seconds before he says, “Travis told me that the two of you are going out.”

  “Oh he did, did he?”

  Jim stills. “Uh-oh, looks like I spoke out of turn.”

  “Your son asked. I said no. Not that I’m not flattered, but I’m um, just not interested.” The minute I say it, I realize how insulting that might sound. Travis is Jim’s only son. He probably thinks he walks on water. “Not that Travis isn’t a great guy. Sure he is! Any girl would be lucky to go out with him…it’s just that… I’m already seeing someone.”

  Yikes. I hate lying to Jim, but this is one of those times that telling a little white fib will make someone feel better, so it’s all for a good cause.

  Jim’s eyes fill with understanding. “Will Cunningham,” he says. “I suspected that you might have feelings for him, but Travis insisted that you were only friends.”

  “You and Travis have talked about Will and me?” I croak.

  “Only because he asked me for advice.”

  My stomach suddenly feels the way it does when I’ve eaten too much raw muffin batter (I know, I know, I’m not supposed to do that).

  Jim thinks I have feelings for Will. Am I that obvious?

  And why is Travis so sure that Will and I are only friends? Unless he and Will have talked about me too. They’re in the same basketball league, so they’ve definitely spent time together. Will must have told Travis that his feelings for me are strictly platonic. It’s the reason Travis is so confident that I’ll go out with him.

  “I’m not dating Will,” I say as firmly as possible. “It’s someone else, but, it’s in the early stages so I’d rather not discuss it.”

  Jim politely changes the subject just like I knew he would.

  We spend a few more minutes chatting about nothing in particular. A part of me wishes I could sink into the floor for lying to Jim about this new mysterious boyfriend of mine, and another part wishes I could get his thoughts about the dead FBI agent, but I promised Travis I wouldn’t tell anyone and that includes his father.

  Jim finishes up his late morning breakfast. When I get back to the counter, Brittany is waiting for me. “Lucy!” she hisses. “What’s Tara still doing here?”

  “What happened to keep them here as long as possible?”

  “I didn’t mean for you to monopolize them! Never mind, at least I was able to warn all the other restaurants in town. I just wish we’d gotten those wreaths in time. They’re completely adorable.”

  “I don’t think wreaths on the door are going to matter to Tara and the people at the Cooking Channel. They’re looking for—”

  “Of course it matters! Looks are everything!”

  “Are you going to order something or not? Because I’m busy.”

  Brittany looks hurt by my snappiness.

  “Sorry,” I mutter, “You’re right, the wreaths would have been a game changer.”

  She accepts my apology with a sniff. “I guess while I’m here I might as well eat something. Can I have the turkey Rueben sandwich, only without the bread and the cheese and the sauerkraut?”

  “That just leaves the turkey.”

  “Perfect!”

  No wonder Brittany is a size two. I make her a turkey lettuce wrap, and she takes a seat in the middle of the café. Probably so she can keep an eye on Tara.

  Sarah and I switch up spots, with me in the kitchen and her manning the counter. I prep up some sandwiches and clean up the area by the fridge. Our trash is overflowing, so I bag it up and head outside to the back parking lot with Paco alongside me.

  It’s the first time I’ve been out in the sun today. I turn my face toward the sky and shut my eyes to bask in the gorgeous November weather and catch up on my Vitamin D.

  Paco starts barking violently.

  My eyes fly open.

  What’s going on?

  He’s sitting in front of the dumpster, and he’s acting strangely, as if…

  My skin goes clammy.

  “What’s wrong, boy?” I walk toward him and set the trash bag on the ground. Now that I’m standing next to the dumpster, Paco goes quiet. He sits there patiently, waiting.

  I take a deep breath.

  Even though a part of me says this really can’t be happening, another part (the part that listens to my Spidey sense) warns me exactly what I’m about to find. Like I said, my dog has skills.

  I say a quick Hail Mary in my head, then open the lid to the dumpster.

  A man stares back at me. Only there’s a bullet hole between his eyes so I don’t think he can actually see me.

  I gulp. This makes the third dead body that Paco has led me to. The Sunshine Ghost Society is right. Paco is a ghost whisperer. Oh my God. My dog is like…supernatural or something. I don’t know why I’ve fought this. If I can be a human lie detector, then Paco can certainly be on speaking terms with Casper.

  “What are you doing?”

  I jump at the sound of Tara’s voice. Man Bun aims his camera at the dumpster.

  “I think you better turn off the camera.”

  Tara’s eyes go wide. “Why? What’s going on?”

  “Let’s just say things here at The Bistro have gotten a little too real.”

  Chapter Seven

  Within five minutes of calling Travis, he and Zeke show up. I tell them exactly what happened, down to the last detail.

  “The dog led you to the dead body?” Zeke says. “Again?”

  “Yep. Well, I was going to empty the trash anyway so I would have found it eventually, but yes, Paco already knew it was there.”

  “Because of this signal you say he gives you?”

  “Like I said before, he begins to bark in this weird way then he shows me where he wants me to go and when I get there, he stops barking and waits.”

  Zeke shakes his head like he’s not sure who’s wackier, me for believing this or him for listening to it.

  Travis looks between me and Paco, then me again. This time there’s no disbelief in his gaze. Just stunned confusion. I think he finally gets it, only his brain is having a hard time accepting it.

  Zeke makes a call on his cell. Within fifteen minutes an army of suits swarms down on the café including the two from the park the other night. They identify themselves as part of an elite state-run CSI team, only I know better. Clearly, they don’t want anyone knowing they’re with the FBI. Which must mean the guy in the dumpster has something to do with Joey. They ask everyone in the café to stay inside. Although ask is the wrong word here. It’s more like an order.

  “I demand to speak to a lawyer!” shrieks Tara. The second t
he suits showed up, they confiscated all the film Man Bun worked so hard getting today. She paces up and down the café, and everyone, including Betty Jean, is a little afraid of her right now. “Does the ACLU know what’s going on? Freedom of the press, baby! Ever heard of it?”

  “Drug test,” Travis snaps back. “Ever heard of that?”

  Tara goes pale. She meekly sits down but not before muttering, “You can forget being cast on that new Bravo show!” Brittany immediately runs over to commiserate, or rather, suck up to her.

  The two suits from the park usher me into the kitchen. Now that we’re alone and out of view from the customers, one of them flashes an FBI badge in my face. “I’m Agent Parks, and this is Agent Rollins. First off, you absolutely cannot reveal that we’re with the Bureau. We’re on an undercover mission here.” They remind me of those clones from The Matrix except they’re not wearing sunglasses.

  “I haven’t told anyone about Ken Cameron, have I?”

  Agent Parks narrows his eyes at me. “This is the second dead body in two days. You don’t find it strange that you’re the one who’s discovered them both?”

  “No. And it’s my dog who found them. Is that another FBI agent out there in the dumpster?”

  “We can’t answer that question,” says Agent Rollins.

  The little hairs on my neck tell me what he won’t. The guy in the dumpster isn’t with the FBI. But if he isn’t an agent, then why is the FBI here? Who is he? Nobody I’ve ever seen around town. A tourist, maybe?

  This is definitely not good for business.

  “When was the last time you took out the garbage?” asks Agent Parks.

  “You mean before just now? That would be yesterday afternoon.”

  “Have you seen anyone acting suspiciously?”

  “Not really. Do you think that poor man was killed here, in the parking lot?”

  “We can’t—”

  “Answer that. Don’t you think this is all a bit one sided? I’m supposed to give you all this information, but you guys give me squat in return?”

  They ignore my concern, ask me a few more questions then go off to interview the rest of the café. Brittany takes this opportunity to find me in the kitchen. “This is awful! How could you let this happen?”