Whispering Bay Cozy Mysteries Box Set

by Maria Geraci

  “We were just going to sit down to dinner,” says Mom. “George, put an extra plate on the table.”

  “Oh! That’s so sweet of you, but I couldn’t intrude.”

  “Any friend of Lucy’s is always welcome for dinner.”

  Brittany glances shyly at Will. “If you’re absolutely certain…”

  “We insist! Right, Lucy?”

  “Right,” I say, although I have a feeling I’m going to regret this.

  “We were just scolding Lucy here for not telling us about what happened at The Bistro this afternoon,” Dad says.

  “Oh! It was horrible. I was there too.”

  Mom puts an arm around Brittany to console her. “Do the police have any clue who the dead man was or what he was doing there to begin with?”

  “They’re still investigating,” I say vaguely.

  “It was probably some tourist,” Dad says. “Each season they get weirder and weirder.”

  “So, what did you need to see me about?” I ask Brittany.

  “Just to tell you that…that thing I was looking into doesn’t appear too promising right now.”

  Which means Brittany hasn’t found any dirt on Catfish Cove. Which means we should pretty much kiss Battle of the Beach Eats goodbye. Not that I’d held out any real hope, but still…

  A timer goes off in the kitchen. Mom calls us all to dinner, and we migrate to the dining room table. Paco settles on the floor at my feet, and begins to chew on a bone.

  Mom passes around the salad. “I only have one rule at my dinner table. No politics.”

  Dad grins. “I guess that just leaves religion.”

  “Speaking of which, I heard at the Piggly Wiggly that Mrs. O’Donnell got doused during the nine a.m. mass last week.” Mom looks to Sebastian for confirmation.

  He groans. “The church roof is leaking.” St. Perpetua’s Catholic Church, where my brother is pastor, is ancient. The roof has been leaking for years, but last Sunday it rained buckets bringing the situation to crisis proportions.

  “Can’t the bishop do anything about it?” asks Mom.

  “The diocese is willing to help, but we have to raise at least half the money ourselves.”

  “Which means you need to get your sermon on,” Will says.

  Sebastian makes a face. My brother gives wonderful sermons, but he hates asking for money, and I don’t blame him.

  “You can count on your mother and me to contribute our fair share.”

  “And I can give you a dollar fifty,” I joke. Which isn’t funny at all because that’s about how much I’ll have in my checking account after I pay this month’s bills.

  “What’s the status on that Cooking Channel show?” asks Will.

  “Zip,” I say.

  Brittany glances around the table. “I’m afraid that Whispering Bay is currently out of the running due to that incident at The Bistro today.”

  “But that’s not anyone’s fault,” says Sebastian.

  “Oh, I agree, but, unfortunately, Tara Bell, that’s the producer in charge of the show, and her cameraman were at The Bistro when Lucy discovered the body. I think the notoriety associated with that might be too much.”

  Even though Brittany has worded that carefully, there’s still a tiny thread of implication that somehow this is all my fault. As if I had any control of this El Tigre person!

  Dad scowls. “So, the cops have no clue who this dead guy was or who might have done this?”

  “Nope,” I say, then rush to add, “But even if they did, I’m not sure they’d tell me. I mean, why would they?” Then I do this thing that I hate. I laugh snort. It’s something I do when I get nervous like I am right now because I hate lying to my family, but if they knew I was going to be helping the Bureau catch a notorious hitman, they’d probably lock me up in my old room and throw away the key.

  Time to change the subject.

  “I can’t believe how quickly the two of you put the house back together. It’s like you never left.”

  “If you lived here then you could watch the place while we were gone,” Mom says. “A young unmarried girl like yourself. No reason you can’t live with your parents. We aren’t even here half the year!”

  This is a point my mom likes to make whenever she can. My dad backs her up by nodding.

  “I love living over The Bistro in my own place.”

  Mom’s forehead scrunches up. “Even after that horrible woman nearly killed you in the kitchen and now this dead body?”

  Not this again. “How about we amend that rule to no politics and no dead bodies?” I semi-joke.

  There’s a moment’s awkward silence.

  I give Will a look that says I need help here.

  “Yeah, so, how was book club?” Will asks.

  Yikes. Maybe we should go back to talking about dead bodies.

  “Lucy got kicked out her first night,” says Dad. “Betty Jean Collins was at The Bistro yesterday telling everyone who would listen how Lucy never showed up and how she let everyone down because they were really counting on her muffins for the refreshments.”

  Will looks surprised. “I thought you were looking forward to dissecting this new J.R. Quicksilver novel. What happened?”

  “It’s J. W., not J.R.,” Mom corrects teasingly. “Will! You’re a librarian. You should know things like that.” She leans eagerly in my direction. “Was Betty Jean’s book club discussing Assassin’s Honor? I loved that book!”

  My mom has read Assassin’s Honor?

  “I planned to go to book club,” I say to Will. “But… I had to stay at the café to receive an important delivery, and I got busy and forgot to call Betty Jean.”

  “I certainly hope she doesn’t ask me to join her book club. Not after kicking out my own flesh and blood. Still,” Mom muses, “I wonder how the rest of the group liked the book. I’m sure there were some lively discussions.”

  “This one is J.W.’s best,” says Dad. “Assassin’s Creed used to be my favorite, but he outdid himself with this latest.”

  Dad has read Assassin’s Honor too?

  Ew! Chapter fourteen is totally ruined for me now.

  Sebastian takes a sip of his wine. “This book sounds very popular. Maybe I should read it too.”

  “No!” We all shout at the same time.

  “Lots of violence,” says Dad, shaking his head. “Disgusting, really. You wouldn’t like it. You wouldn’t like it at all.”

  Sebastian raises an amused brow. He turns to Will. “What did you think of the book?”

  “You know Will doesn’t read popular fiction,” I say. “He’s too high brow for that.”

  “I’m sure Lucy means that in a very nice way,” Mom says.

  “No offense taken,” says Will.

  Mom perks up like she’s just remembered something. “Sebastian tells me that the Young Catholic Singles are going up to Atlanta to attend a football game next weekend. Sounds like fun, doesn’t it?”

  I nearly choke on a piece of chicken. Young Catholic Singles is exactly what the name implies—it’s a bunch of desperate twenty-and-thirty-somethings who haven’t been able to find anyone on whatever online dating site is popular now. I wouldn’t know since I refuse to use one.

  Will catches my eye.

  Sebastian coughs into his napkin.

  And Brittany says, “Oh, but, Lucy doesn’t—”

  “Know if she’s going yet!” I interrupt giving Brittany a look that says shut up!

  Miraculously, Brittany, who’s usually clueless with nonverbal communication, gets the hint and snaps her trap.

  “Well you should,” says Mom, “and when you get to Atlanta call your aunt Doreen.”

  “Why would I do that?” I ask more out of curiosity than anything else, because I have no intention of going on this field trip.

  “To say hello, naturally, since you’ll both be in the same city.”

  I bite my tongue. Mom and dad were in their late thirties before they started having children. They’re no
t that old, and they both certainly know how to use a cell phone, but Mom still thinks that calling long distance will incur charges.

  “I probably won’t be going to Atlanta,” I say carefully.

  “Why not?”

  Because I’m not a member of Young Catholic Singles.

  “Because even though it doesn’t look good right now, there’s still a super slim chance that the Cooking Channel might pick us for their show. I need to be available whenever they want to start filming. Right?” I say to Brittany, hoping she’ll back me up.

  “Oh, yes! Lucy’s right,” she jumps in. “It looks rather bleak, but the situation isn’t totally hopeless.”

  Since this makes sense, Mom doesn’t argue. “How about you, Will? Are you going?”

  “Actually, I haven’t gone to any of the meetings lately.”

  “What? Why not? Oh, Will, you have to go! A young, handsome single man like you? It’s a shame that you’re not putting yourself out there. Isn’t it, George?” She elbows my father.

  “Molly, leave the kids alone.”

  “When I was Lucy’s age, I used to love going to Young Catholic Singles. It’s how I met your father and look how that turned out!”

  “Nowadays they have Tinder,” says Dad.

  “Tinder?” Mom frowns. “What’s that?”

  “It’s like Uber,” I say, “except instead of getting a ride you get a hookup.”

  Will snorts.

  “I think it’s sad that both Lucy and Will don’t have anyone in their lives. I can’t remember the last time Lucy went out on a date.”

  Good thing my Mom is back in town to make me feel special.

  To be fair, it isn’t just me she’s picking at.

  “When was the last time you took out a nice girl?” she demands of Will. If this were any other person sitting at our table, Mom would never put them on the spot like this, but since Will is like a second son to her, she has no shame grilling him the same way she does me.

  Sebastian grins. “As opposed to a not nice girl?”

  “Be quiet, you,” Mom warns. “Well?” she persists.

  Will looks as uncomfortable as we all feel right now.

  “What about you, Brittany?” Mom asks. “Surely you have to be seeing someone.”

  Brittany delicately lays down her napkin. “Will took me to dinner last week.”

  Mom’s face lights up. “What! Why didn’t you say so? George, did you hear? Will and Brittany are dating!”

  “I’m not deaf, Molly.” Dad gives them both a pitying look.

  Will clears his throat. “It was just one date. But we had a nice time. Um, didn’t we?”

  “Oh, yes! We had a great time!” Brittany says, beaming at Will.

  Huh. Brittany is telling the truth. At least, in her view, the date was a success.

  “There you go!” Mom slaps her hands together like it’s a done deal. “Now we just have to find someone for Lucy.”

  I can’t stand this anymore. Before I can stop myself, I say, “I’m kind of seeing someone too.”

  Everyone at the table turns to look at me, including Will. “I thought you said you weren’t going to go out with Travis.”

  “Travis? Who is this Travis?” Mom asks. “Is he Catholic?” Travis could be a homeless drug addict, but Mom focuses on what’s important.

  “Yep,” says Sebastian. “Catholic and a cop. From Dallas. His dad just retired here, and Travis moved to be closer to him.”

  “Oh! He sounds wonderful!”

  “I never said I was going out with Travis. It’s…someone else.”

  “What?” Brittany looks as if she’s just had her favorite tube of lip gloss stolen. “How come I didn’t know this before? I thought I was your best friend!”

  Rats. Now everyone is staring at me and—

  My cell phone pings.

  “Lucy, you know I don’t want those things at the table,” scolds Mom.

  “Sorry, but I’m on…alert in case the cops need to come by The Bistro again to collect evidence.”

  My phone pings again.

  “You might as well answer that,” says Dad.

  I pick it up and glance at the screen.

  You said Sundays were your day off. Want to grab some brunch tomorrow?

  The texter’s area code isn’t local.

  Who is this??? I text back.

  Sorry. It’s Mike Armandi. Rocko gave me your number. I hope that’s okay.

  “Is it the cops?” asks Will.

  “No, it’s Mike Armandi. He wants to know if I’m free for brunch tomorrow.”

  “Who’s Mike Armandi?” asks Dad.

  “He’s…the guy I’m dating.”

  Sebastian frowns. “The guy who made the deliveries the other morning at The Bistro?”

  “That’s the one.”

  Mom mulls this over. “He seemed very…Italian.”

  “He is,” I assure them. “Big family. His uncle is a sweetheart. We have absolutely lots in common.”

  “Like what?” Will asks.

  “Well, we both like to eat. Yeah. We both really like to eat. He’s crazy about my pumpkin spice muffins.”

  “Everyone’s crazy about your pumpkin spice muffins,” Sebastian says dismissively.

  Will’s forehead scrunches up making him look adorable. “How come you never mentioned him before?”

  “Haven’t I? I guess with all that’s been going on, I just forgot.”

  What are the odds that Mike Armandi would ask me out at the same exact moment I needed it? This is like some weird and wonderful Kismet. Like the universe just reached out to me with this little gift.

  Do I want to go to brunch with Mike Armandi?

  Why not?

  He’s pleasant enough. And if I go on this one date, I can truthfully say I’ve gone out with him and I won’t be lying anymore. Besides, I don’t want to turn him down and have the universe think I’m ungrateful.

  I text him back. Sounds good. Where and when?

  The Harbor House. Pick you at 11?

  It’s a date!

  I put my phone down. “We’re going out to brunch tomorrow. The Harbor House,” I add casually.

  No one says anything, and thankfully, a couple of minutes later, the conversation goes back to St. Perpetua’s leaky roof. But every once in a while, I catch Will looking at me with a strange expression on his face.

  10

  After dinner, Brittany helps mom and me clear the table while the men do the dishes. Since tomorrow is Sunday which is Sebastian’s big day of the week he leaves immediately afterward to practice his homily. Poor guy. He’s already sweating having to ask the congregation to cough up the money for the church roof.

  Brittany leaves soon after, and Will and I play cards with my parents for an hour or so before we call it a night.

  Paco and I are out the door and almost to my car when Will catches up to me. “I’m following you home.”

  “No need to, I’m—”

  “I’m not asking permission. I’m telling you.”

  “Oh…all right.”

  Whatever. Will can follow me if he wants to. I’m not about to argue with him knowing that El Tigre is out there somewhere. I know he doesn’t want to hurt me, but if Agent Billings is right, then El Tigre is planning to make a repeat visit to The Bistro to leave his trademark clue. I’m really not looking forward to that.

  It didn’t seem like such a big deal during the daytime, but it’s after ten and pitch black outside. Because The Bistro back parking lot faces the gulf, we can’t keep artificial lights on otherwise it confuses the baby sea turtles. The motion detector light above the kitchen door doesn’t seem like enough protection anymore.

  So, yeah, I’m glad Will followed me.

  I unlock the kitchen door and turn on the lights. “Want to—”

  “Yep,” he says brushing his way past me. “Did you record last night’s episode of America’s Most Vicious Criminals?”

  “Naturally.”

  Eve
n though we both had double helpings of chicken cacciatore, we still stuff ourselves with popcorn while we watch the recording. The episode, featuring a double homicide that took place on board a yacht, is especially gruesome.

  “Why do people use knives?” I say. “I mean, all that stabbing and blood. Yuck.”

  “You prefer your murder less messy?” Will teases.

  I think about Ken Cameron and Mark Rinaldi and how little blood there actually was. One small bullet hole between the eyes and bam! I shudder.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” I say, still thinking about what I’ve seen this week. El Tigre might be a ruthless killer, but I don’t think his victims suffered before they died. So, there’s that at least.

  We watch all the way to the previews at the end. I get up and stretch, expecting Will to take off, but instead, he goes to my linen closet and pulls out a blanket and a pillow.

  “I’m sleeping on your couch tonight,” he announces. “End of story.”

  Will is sleeping on my living room couch, a fact I’m hyper-aware of because I can’t get to sleep. The man I’ve been lusting after for the past nineteen years (well, technically, it’s only been the last ten that lust was involved) is lying less than twenty feet away from me and the only thing separating us is a paper-thin wall and the sad fact that he only thinks of me as a friend.

  Sometime in the night, I fall asleep. I know this because I semi-wake up in the middle of a horrible dream. At least, I think it’s a dream. And for sure it was horrible because someone was trying to break into my kitchen. Paco was doing his psycho barking and—

  Paco’s wet nose nudges me completely awake.

  He barks, runs around my bed in a circle, then jumps down, urging me with his eyes to follow him.

  I dash out of bed and into the living room.

  “Will, wake up!”

  Paco reinforces this with more of his urgent barking.

  Will shoots off my couch like it’s on fire. He’s barefoot but other than that he’s still wearing all his clothes, which is unfortunate. Living in a beach town, I’ve had the privilege of seeing Will without a shirt on lots of times. But it never gets old. Let’s just say it’s up there with coffee, chocolate, and Netflix.