by Maria Geraci
I don’t like his tone of voice, but since he’s a cop and I was raised to respect authority, I’ll let it go. This time. “Actually, I’m allergic to them.”
“But you’re familiar with this particular dog?”
“Sure. Abby brought Paco to The Bistro yesterday. That’s the café Sarah and I own. Only his real name isn’t Paco.”
He frowns. “What do you mean that’s not his real name?”
Rats. Me and my big mouth. I’m not about to explain my special “gift” to Officer Fontaine. First off, I doubt he’d believe me. I’ve only known him ten minutes, but I can already tell this guy has a stick up his butt.
“Nothing. I must be confused. This is my first dead person, you know?”
Instead of looking concerned that I might be about to faint, he gives me a look that says he doesn’t have time for any more of my monkey business. Just the facts, ma’am.
“Do you know Derrick’s last name?” he asks.
“I’ve never met him. He lives in Mexico Beach, I think, but I imagine it’s Delgado. Abby wasn’t married.”
Sarah chimes in. “Lucy is right. It’s Derrick Delgado. I haven’t met him either, but I’ve heard her mention him a few times.”
“Do any of you know how we might reach him?”
We all shake our heads.
He begins to question the rest of the group. The photographer finishes taking pictures. Then a couple of guys come in with a gurney.
“Will that be all, Officer Fontaine?” Sarah asks. “I need to get back to the food pavilion.”
“Can I get all of you to write down your contact numbers, please? And your addresses, in case we need them.”
Here is where I want to snicker because Travis has no idea that pretty much everyone in Whispering Bay knows everyone else, as well as where to find them. But we all comply and write down our number next to our name.
“I wrote down my cell phone, my home, and all my business numbers,” Brittany emphasizes. “Just in case you need me. For anything.”
I cringe. Brittany’s blatant flirtation is an embarrassment to womankind.
I glance at Will to gauge his reaction. He looks miserable.
If the object of Will’s affection were anyone other than Brittany, I would feel sorry for him. But she’s so not worthy of him. Can’t he see that?
We’re all about to leave, when Travis says, “Miss McGuffin, can you stay a moment? I’d like to speak to you in private.”
Brittany makes a pouty face, but she follows Sarah and Will as they go out the door.
Travis stares at my hair again.
“I’m supposed to Annette Funicello,” I explain. “In case you’re wondering.”
His eyes cut back to mine. “You said you were following the dog back into the building when you discovered the body?”
The way he says body puts me on alert. Like something sinister has happened here.
“Yes. But… this was an accident, right?”
“When was the last time you saw Miss Delgado?” he asks, ignoring my question.
“I already told you. She came in yesterday to The Bistro with the little dog.”
“Did she seem agitated in any way?”
Yes.
“No,” I lie. Because:
A) I really don’t want to get into the whole sandwich thing.
B) I still don’t know why Abby and Sebastian were out of sorts. Besides, none of that has anything to do with what’s happened here.
Thus:
C) It’s not relevant.
“You didn’t see Miss Delgado at all today?”
He’s already asked me this question three different ways. “No,” I say again, this time in a firmer tone.
“Did you get in a fight with someone?”
“What? Why on earth would you think that?”
He points to the edge of my shift, which I notice has a tear. My left knee is skinned. “I already told you I chased Paco back into the building. I tripped over a bush, and this happened.”
He looks at me for a few long seconds. “Okay. Thanks for your cooperation.”
The little hairs on the back of my neck tingle.
Oh boy. Officer Fontaine is lying. Well, not lying exactly but he doesn’t think I’m cooperating at all. He thinks I’m hiding something. Which I am since I didn’t tell him about Abby being mad at Sebastian.
“By the way,” he says. “What door did you use to get inside the building?”
“The kitchen—oh.” I pull the keys out of my pocket. “Earlier, Sarah and I came in through the kitchen with Gus Pappas, and I used the keys again to get in the second time to refill the coffee cart. But when Paco led me back, and, yes,” I glare at him, “He did lead me back, we used a side door to get inside.”
“And you used one of those keys to unlock that door too?”
“No. It was already open.”
He stills. “There was a side door to the building that was open?”
“Not open exactly. Just unlocked.”
“Can you show me?”
With Paco still in my arms, I lead him to the door. “Are you sure it was unlocked?” he asks. “Maybe you used one of the keys and forgot?”
I squelch the urge to roll my eyes at him. “It was unlocked,” I say firmly.
He unclips his walkie-talkie and asks the technicians to return.
It’s clear that Travis doesn’t think Abby’s death is a simple case of her falling and hitting her head. “Do you think this is how Abby got inside the building?”
“Possibly.” He studies the lock. After a few minutes, he remembers that I’m still there. “Thanks, again. You can get back to whatever it was you were doing now.”
In other words, dismissed.
Except he’s not going to get rid of me this easily. Stubborn is my middle name (actually, it’s Elizabeth).
“What are you looking for?”
“I really can’t discuss that with you.”
“Holy wow. You think that maybe someone shoved Abby and then she fell and hit her head? But that would be like…murder.”
Before he can respond, the two guys who were taking pictures and collecting evidence in the building arrive.
“Are you going to sweep the place for fingerprints?” I ask one of them. His tag says G. Cooper, Crime Scene Investigation. “Because if you do, mine will definitely be there. Maybe you should go ahead and fingerprint me. That way you can compare the prints on the door to mine and rule those out.”
G. Cooper looks confused like he’s not sure whether to take my advice.
“Miss McGuffin,” says Officer Fontaine, “I have to insist that you leave now.”
“But—”
“Please, leave this to the professionals.”
Boy, this guy sure could use a course in community relations. He’s absolutely nothing like his father. And to think, I thought he and I were going to be friends. Ha!
I make my way back to the food pavilion. A sad hush has descended over the festivities. News of Abby’s death has spread, and no one feels like celebrating anything, but the adults continue for the sake of the kiddies.
Paco has stopped his shaking. I let him down on a patch of grass so he can do his business. When I get back to our booth, Sarah has already cleaned everything up, and she and her husband Luke are loading up the back of the van.
Brittany is still hanging around, probably because of Will. “They’re about to announce the winner of the costume contest!” she says.
Funny. Less than an hour ago she’d been so distraught she’d “fainted.” Brittany’s ability to bounce back from tragedy is impressive.
“May I have your attention!” Gus’s voice booms over the loudspeaker system. “First, I want to thank everyone who came out in costume today. Good job, Whispering Bay! It was a tough competition, but there was one person who stood out for their originality. The votes are in, and the winner of the best sixties beach costume is Brittany Kelly!”
Brittany looks aro
und in shock. “Me? Did he say me? Oh my God!” She runs toward the stage in her four-inch heels where Gus is waiting for her with a smile and a trophy. Not to mention her hundred-dollar check, which should keep Brittany in lip gloss for about a month.
“Thank you!” she gushes into the mic. “I’m so humbled and proud that y’all have chosen me as the winner!” Images of high school and Brittany’s victory prom night speech come flashing back. I swear, I think she used those exact same words then too. It’s probably her standard speech. Besides prom queen, Brittany was also Miss Seashell, Miss Walton County and last but not least, Miss Cheese Grits (although since her daddy’s restaurant held the contest, I’m sure that was rigged).
“Y'all are too kind, but I simply can’t accept this check.” Her southern accent rises a couple of notches the way it always does whenever she’s doing any public speaking. “Not when there are so many people who need it more than I do. So, if it’s all right with y’all, I’d like to donate it to the food pantry at St. Perpetua’s which does such a wonderful job of feeding the hungry.”
Everyone claps wildly, and Roger Van Cleave takes her picture for the paper.
I’m not disappointed. I’m really not. Because if I’d won, I’d have to go up on stage in front of everyone and right now, I probably look a mess. Plus, whatever her motives, it was nice of Brittany to donate the money.
Will stares at Brittany with a dreamy look on his face.
“Earth to Cunningham,” I say.
He shakes his dark head. “Sorry. I was just—”
“Admit it. You like her.”
“I know she made your life miserable, Luce, but that was in high school. She’s not a bad person. The thing is… I want to ask her out, but not if it’s going to come between us.”
I still. “Why would it come between us?” Then I laugh, and it sounds fake, but what can I do? “Ask her out! If you like her, then I like her.”
The relief on his face makes me want to cry. Will has no skills when it comes to detecting deception. Either that, or he just doesn’t want to see it, because this is probably the biggest lie I’ve ever told.
Paco nudges me with his nose like he wants attention. I’d forgotten I was still holding him.
“What are you going to do with the dog?” Will asks.
“I hate to hand him over to the animal shelter. I know they’ll take good care of him until Abby’s brother gets back, but he’s been through a hard day.”
“I’ll take him,” Will offers. “Since you’re allergic.”
This is really nice of Will, but I feel a strange kinship with this little dog, and despite my allergy, I’m just not ready to give him up yet.
“One night with him isn’t going to kill me.” I glance around the crowd. “Have you seen Sebastian?”
“I texted him after we found Abby, but he hasn’t texted back. He probably got called away to the rectory.” Will studies my face. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”
“I’m fine.”
He nods. “See you later, Lucy.” Out of the corner of my eye, I watch him congratulate Brittany.
Even though the temperature is only in the mid-seventies, I’m sweating and itching. All I want right now is to go home, take a hot shower and crawl into bed.
Sarah comes back to the booth. “I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to call it a day. Luke is already on his way home.”
I hold Paco on my lap as Sarah drives us back to the café. Luckily, I live in the apartment upstairs which is extra convenient because I’m exhausted. I unlock the back door and start to make my way up the stairs with Paco, when Sarah says, “What some help with your hair? I mean, taking it down?”
“No thanks. I figure I’ll just get in the shower and let it fall apart naturally.”
She pauses. “I didn’t want to say anything before, because there wasn’t a point, but…don't freak out.”
“What?” I ask, alarmed because naturally when someone tells you not to freak out, your first instinct is to freak out.
She bites her bottom lip, like she’s not sure what to do, then sighs. “Okay, here goes.” She closes her eyes as she reaches out and tears something out of my hair.
“Ouch!”
She winces. “Sorry about that.”
“What did you do that for?”
“You had something stuck in your hair, and I wanted to get it out for you.” Then she gingerly holds up a dead lizard by the tail.
“That was in my hair?”
She makes a pained face and nods.
“How in the world—”
The lizard must have gotten stuck in the cave of hairspray when I tripped and fell over the hibiscus bush.
No wonder Officer Fontaine kept staring at my hair!
All the while he was asking me questions, there was a dead reptile staring right back at him.
Chapter Five
When Sarah and I bought The Bistro we made a pact that the business wouldn’t take over our lives, so we hired extra help and decided to close the café one day a week. Sunday seemed like the most logical day.
When you’re used to getting up at four-thirty every morning, six a.m. is technically sleeping in, but today it takes a huge effort to drag out of bed in time to make my regular seven-thirty Sunday mass. It must be the aftereffects of the Benadryl I had to take last night to keep from itching.
The instant mass is over, I dash out to the front of the church hoping to have a word with my brother, but Sebastian is inundated with parishioners wanting to talk to him, so I don’t get a chance to ask him about Abby and the exorcism.
“Hello, Lucy!” Jim Fontaine waves, so I wave back, which he takes as a sign to come up to talk to me. Normally, I’d welcome his company, but unfortunately, he’s not alone. “Officer” Travis is with him. He’s out of uniform and wearing neatly pressed khaki pants and a blue button-down shirt that contrasts with his green eyes, making them look even greener.
I have to admit, Travis isn’t bad looking. He’s not classically handsome like Will, but he does exude a certain something. Too bad he has no personality. On the other hand, that makes him perfect for Brittany.
It was obvious yesterday that she had the hots for him. I wonder if Will had a chance to ask her out. And if she said yes. Maybe if I’m lucky, he changed his mind. And maybe if I’m really lucky, Brittany will channel all her efforts into Officer Fontaine.
Jim turns to his son. “Travis, this is Lucy McGuffin. She’s Father Sebastian’s sister and I’m told she makes the best muffins in the world.”
My cheeks heat up the way they always do whenever someone uses that particular compliment because obviously, that would be impossible to gauge. I mean, I’m sure someone in the world makes better muffins than me. Maybe.
Travis takes in my appearance. Today, I’m wearing normal Lucy-goes-to-church clothes. A denim skirt with a peasant blouse and my dark curly hair is pulled back in a low ponytail. More importantly, it’s minus the lizard.
“We met yesterday at the rec center opening,” I tell Jim. “I was the one who found Abby Delgado.”
“Oh, yes, I heard about that. Poor woman. Terrible accident. Finding her must have been awful for you.”
Travis observes my expression carefully. He still thinks I’m hiding something. Which I am. I have to give him credit. He’s more than just a broad set of shoulders and a firm chin.
“It was really hard on her little dog. Or rather, her brother’s dog. Abby was dog sitting for him.”
Poor Paco spent the night having nightmares. I know this because I let him sleep at the end of my bed (hence, the reason I had to take the Benadryl) and he kept twitching and making all kinds of noises. I hated leaving him alone this morning.
“Where is the dog, by the way?” Travis asks.
“He’s with me.”
“I was finally able to get ahold of Derrick Delgado yesterday evening. To tell him about his sister’s death.”
“How’s he doing?” The words are no soo
ner out than I flinch. This is a horribly dumb question. If something ever happened to Sebastian, I’d be comatose with grief.
“He’s handling it the way you’d expect. Under the circumstances.”
Which doesn’t tell me anything.
“Is he back in town?” I don’t know Derrick, but I’d like to pay him a visit to tell him how sorry I am about his sister. And to give him his dog back, of course.
“According to him he never left town. He’s been in Mexico Beach this whole time.”
“I don’t understand. Abby told me her brother was away and that’s why she was dog sitting.”
Travis looks me square in the eye and says, “Derrick Delgado swears he doesn’t own a dog.”
I’m confused. Why on earth would Abby lie about her brother owning Paco? And just as importantly, why didn’t I pick up on that lie?
Probably because it was mixed in with the other lie about the dog’s name and that’s the lie I focused on. All I know is that if Paco doesn’t belong to Derrick, then who does he belong to?
I swing by my place to pick up the dog, and we go to the Whispering Bay Animal Shelter. Lanie Miller manages the place. She’s Dr. Nate’s sister and a real hoot. She and her girlfriend, Dhara, are Bistro regulars.
I explain the Paco situation to Lanie.
“What a cute little dog. He’s definitely a Chihuahua mix, but there’s some terrier there too. You said Abby told you he belonged to her brother, but the brother denies it?”
“That’s the official story. At least, according to Officer Fontaine.”
“I met him a couple of days ago. He came in here looking for a dog. He’s pretty cute.”
“The dog?”
She snickers. “The man.”
“Not my type.”
Lanie smiles sympathetically. She’s the other person that I’ve confided in about my feelings for Will. She thinks I should tell him, but if I do that and he doesn’t feel the same way, it will ruin our friendship. And my friendship with Will means everything to me, so I can’t take that risk.
“Obviously Travis Fontaine isn’t my type either, but if I were into boys, I’d be all over all that one. You should have seen the way he was with the dogs. You can tell a lot about a person by how they treat an animal.”