Whispering Bay Cozy Mysteries Box Set

by Maria Geraci

  Juanita looks shocked. “So you killed her?”

  “No. Although I sure wish I could have shoved a few donuts down that skinny throat of hers.”

  I try to hide my smile. “Heidi isn’t the killer. So far we’ve eliminated Juanita, Carlos and Heidi.”

  “Well, I can tell you right now I didn’t go see Tara,” says Wendy. “So you can cross me off your list.”

  “True, you didn’t see Tara that night, but there’s more to the story, isn’t there?”

  “How do you … you can’t prove anything,” she finishes stubbornly.

  “You might not have gone to see Tara, but you wanted to quit the show as well, didn’t you?”

  “I … ” She glances around the table to gauge our reactions. I don’t think I’m the only one who wants an answer here. “My lawyer was looking into the best way to get out of the contract,” she admits.

  “Why?” asks Mark. “Tiny’s has the best pizza in town. Probably even in the whole Florida panhandle.”

  I hold up the notebook as a reminder. “Either you tell them, or I will.”

  “You have to promise to keep this confidential,” she says.

  We all give her our word.

  “It’s the sauce that makes Tiny’s pizza so special. My father created the recipe thirty years ago. Only Tara claimed that he stole it from a former partner of his who still lives in Brooklyn. She was even going to fly this man down and have him confront me on camera. Can you imagine? My father would roll in his grave.”

  “So there’s no truth to it?” asks Heidi.

  “That’s just it. It’s this man’s word against my father’s, who isn’t here to defend himself. All I can say is that I believe my father. And I find it highly suspicious that this former partner of his comes out of the woodwork now when it’s all going to be on TV.”

  I open the notebook to a bookmarked page and hand it over to Wendy. “You were right to be suspicious. Tara was paying this man five thousand dollars to come down here and discredit your father.”

  Wendy silently reads the page. “So … it was all a lie! But why would this man lie for just five thousand dollars? He and my father were partners at one time. I know the relationship didn’t end well, but it seems overly malicious to me.”

  “Tara promised to give his new restaurant in Brooklyn some free promo on the show,” explains Gilly. She glances around the table, where she’s met with hostile stares. “I didn’t want to go along with that. I told Tara it was wrong and probably illegal, but she wouldn’t listen to me.”

  “Did the network know what she was up to?” I ask.

  “No. It was all Tara’s idea. I just wrote down the notes like I was told to, that’s all.”

  I turn back to Wendy. “Did you poison Tara?”

  “No. Absolutely not.”

  No one says anything for a few moments.

  “I guess I’m next,” says Mark. “Go ahead, ask me whatever you want. I don’t have anything to hide.”

  “Curiously, there’s not much about you in the notes,” I say, wondering how he’s going to wiggle himself out of this.

  “Let me tell you why,” he says. “The Harbor House is the finest restaurant in Whispering Bay. There’s no dirt on me or the restaurant because there’s none to find.”

  Oh boy, this guy is good. He’s just lied to me, and I’m not getting any sort of physical reaction. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was telling the truth. Up to now, I found the idea of outing Mark’s affair with Tara distasteful, but what arrogance! His poor wife. I thought he was taking her on a cruise to make up for a guilty conscience, but clearly, he isn’t the least bit remorseful or afraid of getting caught, either.

  “Oh, but there is dirt, Mark. You and I both know there is.”

  He frowns. “What are you babbling about?”

  “What about all those late nights you and Tara spent in your office? What have you got to say about that?”

  “Who told you about those?”

  “Never mind who told me. Well? What do you have to say for yourself?”

  “Absolutely nothing. We didn’t do anything illegal.”

  “How about immoral?” I shoot back.

  “I think someone has been eating too many coconut muffins and it’s going straight to their brain,” he says, sneering.

  “Oh, so that’s how you’re going to play it, is it? Making fun of my muffins isn’t going to hide the fact that you and Tara were having an affair.”

  Juanita gasps and makes the sign of the cross.

  Carlos makes a face. “Ew.”

  “An affair?” Mark says incredulously. “Me and Tara? Are you insane?”

  “We’re focusing on you, remember? If you weren’t having an affair, then what were you and Tara doing during all those late nights together?”

  He snorts. “I’ll tell you what we were doing, Ms. Nosy Pants. Tara was grooming me for a position as the host of a new show. And not any of this two-bit reality crap, that’s for sure. I was going to host an exploration of the finest restaurants in Europe. She was helping me with my audition tape. And guess what? I would have gotten the show too, with Tara’s recommendation. So if anyone here wanted Tara alive, it was me. Now that she’s gone, I don’t have anyone at the network rooting for me.”

  I wait for the hair on my neck to tingle. Or tickle. Or do something. But nope.

  Uh-oh. Mark is telling the truth.

  “So you weren’t having an affair with Tara?” asks Carlos.

  “That would be a big no,” says Mark. He turns to me, his eyes blazing. “How did you come up with that cockamamie theory anyway?”

  I gulp. “Um, it seems like I got my wires crossed. So sorry for that little misunderstanding,” I mumble.

  He shoots me an angry look. “You should be.”

  Now that I’ve eliminated all the contestants, there’s just one person left.

  “I’m so sorry I had to put you all through that, but I had to make sure I was right. There’s only one person who had both motive and opportunity. Her motive? To take over Tara’s job. Her opportunity? Lots, considering she and Tara were living in the same beach house.”

  Just like one of those scenes from an old detective movie, I turn to Gilly. “Did you poison Tara?” I hold my breath.

  This is it. The moment of truth.

  “I … ” She shakes her head.

  “Well?” Carlos demands. “Did you?”

  “So you did poison her,” says Heidi.

  Gilly glances around the room, like she’s looking for a way out. “I don’t have to answer that. It’s insulting.”

  “We answered it,” says Wendy. “So you should too.”

  We all lean forward in our chairs, waiting.

  Tears well in Gilly’s eyes. “I know I profited from Tara’s death, but I didn’t poison her. I’m absolutely sick that she’s gone. She was a terrible boss, but I never wanted her to get hurt. Never,” she adds vehemently.

  The room goes silent.

  Holy wow.

  Gilly is telling the truth. She didn’t poison Tara.

  But if she didn’t poison Tara, and no one else in the room did either, then … Could my Spidey sense be wrong again? Am I losing my touch? Could someone in this room be lying to me and I just didn’t pick up on it?

  Everyone turns to look at me.

  “If none of us poisoned Tara, then who did?” asks Wendy.

  “Yeah,” says Heidi. “Your text specifically said that you knew who killed her. Are you telling me that you dragged us all out here in the middle of a workday for some sick prank?”

  The expressions in the room range from embarrassment (for me) to open hostility. This is not how I expected the day to go at all.

  I wince. “I guess I sort of underdelivered, huh?”

  Will makes a pained face.

  Paco slumps to the floor and puts his head between his paws.

  Ouch. My own dog is ashamed of me.

  “What about you, Lucy?” dema
nds Mark. “What’s in that notebook about you?”

  “Yeah,” says Heidi. “What was Tara going to use to make you look bad on the show? You’ve aired all our dirty laundry and conveniently left yourself out of the mess.”

  Uh-oh. Now I know how the Christians felt when the Romans let the lions loose on them. A trickle of sweat runs down my back.

  “Tara kicked me off the show, remember? She didn’t have to have anything on me.” Gilly catches my gaze and raises a brow in amusement, because as the writer of all those notes, she knows good and well what Tara had on me. Is she going to tell everyone? God, I hope not. Not here. Not in front of Will …

  “I think we’re done here,” Mark says, his voice laced with disgust. He brushes past me on his way out the door, muttering under his breath about being late setting up for the dinner crowd.

  Gilly doesn’t say anything on her way out.

  Carlos gives me the silent treatment too, which, yikes. Gilly, I don’t care about, but I thought Carlos and I were friends. But then, what kind of friend am I to blab about his gambling addiction? Not a very good one, I’m afraid.

  Sensing my mood, Juanita gives me a hug. “Don’t worry, Lucy. Carlos won’t stay mad at you. Sooner or later, he’ll start to crave a muffin.”

  Wendy squeezes my arm gratefully. “For what it’s worth, I’m actually glad this all came out because now I know that Dad didn’t steal our secret sauce recipe. Not that I doubted it,” she adds quickly, “but it’s good not to have that hanging over my head.”

  Heidi picks up one of my orange cranberry low-fat muffins and takes a bite. “I’m supposed to believe that this is really reduced fat? What kind of idiot do you take me for?” She sticks her nose in the air and marches out the door.

  But it is reduced fat! Only I don’t think this is a good time to try to get the last word in.

  Now that everyone is gone, it’s just me, Will, and Paco.

  “Don’t say it,” I warn.

  “Say what? Oh, you mean, I told you so?”

  I flop down in my chair.

  “So Gilly was telling the truth when she said she didn’t poison Tara?” Will asks.

  I nod miserably. “I don’t understand. I was so sure that Gilly had to have been the one to poison her. No one else had the motive or the opportunity.”

  “What about the camera guys? Alan and Pete? They were all in the same beach house, so they had the opportunity.”

  “Yeah, but what’s the motive?”

  Will shrugs. “Maybe Travis is wrong. Maybe Tara didn’t die from cyanide poisoning. I heard a rumor that she was taking drugs.”

  “You and everyone else in town. I thought Gilly started that rumor to mislead the cops. I guess I was wrong about that too.”

  “Look, you did the best you could. Leave the rest to Travis and Zeke. They’ll get to the bottom of it. I say we forget all about Battle of the Beach Eats and go upstairs and watch reruns of America’s Most Vicious Criminals. I’ll order the pizza,” he offers. “And speaking of pizza, you did do some good today. Like Wendy said, at least now she knows the sauce is an original recipe.”

  “Okay,” I say, sounding like a petulant child. But I can’t help it. Today was more than a total bust. It was a disaster.

  The more I think of it, the more I’m convinced that I’m right and Gilly had to have killed Tara. There’s no other explanation. Which means she lied to me and I couldn’t detect it.

  I’ve lost my gift.

  I should be happy. I should be dancing on the rooftops. Isn’t this what I’ve always wanted? To be normal?

  Except there’s a niggling sensation in the back of my brain telling me that I haven’t lost anything and that the answer is staring me right in the face.

  19

  It’s Thursday, and business at The Bistro is booming, which is great. Except I don’t feel great. Snippets from yesterday’s big who-done-it flop keep popping up in my brain, reminding me that I’m not nearly as clever as I think I am. Not even close. Hopefully everyone will forget all about my lame attempt at playing Hercule Poirot.

  Betty Jean comes up to the counter to order. “Heard how you accused almost everyone in town of poisoning Tara.”

  “I’m sure that made your day,” I say in a fake cheery voice. “But it wasn’t almost everyone in town. Just everyone in the cooking competition.”

  “Whatever. But you’re wrong, Lucy, it didn’t make my day. Not in the least. I was hoping you’d come through again and solve another murder in this town, but I guess you just got lucky with those other cases, huh?”

  I mentally count to ten. “Guess so.” Boy, would I love to tell Betty Jean the truth. That luck had nothing to do it, but I’m not so stupid as to tell her I’m a human lie detector (or at least I used to be) just to prove a point. She orders and takes her food to a table, joining a few other members of the Gray Flamingos. Every once in a while, they glance my way and whisper among themselves. Glad I’m able to provide my customers with entertainment along with their breakfast.

  I’m wiping down the counter during a temporary lull when Brittany and Darren come in. Their smiles are heavily laced with sympathy and maybe a tad of embarrassment. I sigh. “I guess you heard about yesterday’s fiasco?”

  “It’s all over town, Lucy,” says Brittany. “My mother heard it from Jan over at The Piggly Wiggly who heard it from Stan at the dry cleaners who heard it from—”

  “Let me guess, Heidi Burrows?”

  “Yep.”

  “Everyone from the show is mad at me. Not that I blame them.”

  “If you ask me, they’re all a bunch of ingrates. Do you know how hard I worked to get Battle of the Beach Eats to film here in town? All that publicity down the … ” She glances at Darren, who’s looking a bit chagrined. “Oh well, our loss is Catfish Cove’s gain.”

  “You mean the show is going to film in Catfish Cove?”

  “Lucky for us, the pipe burst has been cleaned up,” says Darren. “So the network decided to go back to their original location.”

  “Congratulations. That’s great,” I say, meaning it. If the show isn’t going to be filmed here in Whispering Bay, then I’m glad Catfish Cove got the gig.

  “Today’s my last day here with Brittany,” he says. “Got to head back and help with the filming any way I can.”

  “Good luck with Gilly and her crew. Wait. I thought Alan and Pete went up to Canada to work on a documentary?”

  “That’s what I heard too,” says Darren. “I think Gilly is going with a different set of camera guys.” He lowers his voice. “From what I heard, those two were a bit rowdy.”

  “Yeah, they did some damage to a pool bar over in Panama City. Plus, they weren’t that nice to her.”

  Darren glances up at the overhead chalkboard menu. “That bacon breakfast sandwich sounds great, but you know what I want,” he says with a twinkle in his eye.

  “Blueberry muffin and a coffee coming up,” I say. But when I go to pull out a muffin from the bin, I discover that I’m all out of the blueberry. Considering I made three dozen fresh ones this morning, I’m left with the sad hypothesis that no one in this town has any taste.

  “So sorry, but we must have had a run on the blueberry this morning. Can I interest you in a zucchini chocolate chip? Or some other kind of muffin?”

  “No blueberry?” His disappointment is kind of sweet. I’ve never had a customer crush so hard on my blueberry muffins before. Maybe I should rethink my dislike of them. “I’ll take the bacon sandwich,” he says, then adds, “Remember, Lucy, if you and Sarah ever want to open up another location, keep Catfish Cove in mind.”

  I fill his and Brittany’s order and hand it to them in a to-go bag. “On the house,” I say, “since it’s your last day in town.”

  “Thanks! If you’re ever in Catfish Cove, come over to the chamber of commerce and say hello.”

  “Will do,” I say waving them goodbye on their way out. Rusty and Travis come through the door the same time that D
arren and Brittany are leaving.

  I brace myself for what’s to come.

  “What will Whispering Bay’s finest have for breakfast today?”

  Rusty scratches the top of his balding head. “Gee, you sure are in a good mood, Lucy. Considering all the talk—”

  “I’m always in a good mood, Rusty,” I interrupt. “Will it be your usual? Coffee and a lemon poppy seed muffin?”

  He nods.

  “And how about you, Officer Fontaine?”

  “Can I talk to you?”

  “Maybe you can catch me after work.”

  “How about now?”

  “Oh, all right.” I hand over counter duty to Jill and follow Travis to the hallway that leads to the pantry. “Before you tell me whatever it is you’re about to tell me, let me just say that I’m not exactly in the mood for a lecture right now.”

  “Tough. What did I tell you about leaving the police work to the actual police? Do you know Zeke got four calls this morning telling him that you’re a menace to this town?”

  I can’t help but bristle. Less than a week ago, I was a hero. Ha! Fame sure can be fickle. “Menace? Someone actually used that word?”

  “Let me be more specific. Mark Dalton called you a busybody, Heidi Burrows says that since you’ve been lucky enough to solve a few murders it’s all gone to your head and—”

  “I’m the one with a big head? Talk about the pot calling the kettle black.”

  He narrows his eyes at me. “What did you think you were going to accomplish by calling a meeting and accusing everyone of poisoning Tara?”

  “I thought I’d solve a murder since the police don’t seem to be having much luck in that department.”

  Travis stares me down. He’s standing so close to me I can smell his aftershave. Something woodsy and cleanly masculine. Very nice. There’s also the uniform. I’ve never been attracted to men in uniform before, but I have to admit, on Travis, it looks rather hot.