Beach Blanket Homicide (Lucy McGuffin, Psychic Amateur Detective 1)

Or

C) is afraid of plasma rays stealing whatever brain cells he has left.

I opt for B with a strong possible side of C.

He sits down on a beat-up sofa. I select the chair farthest from him. “I’m really sorry about your sister. Her death must have come as a shock to you.”

“Sort of.”

He watches me with an expectant gaze that makes me squirm. Or maybe the chair has a flea infestation. Or worse…

Concentrate, Lucy.

It’s a total long shot, but maybe there’s a chance he knew something about the exorcism. “Did you know that Abby was, um, being counseled by a local priest?”

“She wasn’t religious. Unless you call that ghost society she runs around with a religion. More of a cult, if you ask me.” He growls under his breath. “Don’t tell me she left all her money to the Church.”

Boy, this guy is a piece of work all right. His sister hasn’t even been buried yet, and all he’s worried about is that she might have left him out of her will.

Which means…

My heart begins to race. Then my cell phone goes off.

I glance at the screen.

Rats. It’s Travis. This is the second time he’s called in the last hour. The first time he left a message asking if I’d had a chance to talk to Sebastian. There’s no way I’m going to tell him that I struck out with my own brother. Plus, I’m busy now. Go away, Officer Fontaine. I almost wish he could see the grin on my face as I hit the decline button on his call.

“Sorry about that. Now, where we were? Oh, yes, the will. I’m just a messenger so I’m not privy to the contents of Miss Delgado’s will, but I heard that she had some dealings with a Father McGuffin from St. Perpetua’s in Whispering Bay.”

Wow. Not bad if I do say so myself. I’m actually pretty good at making things up on the fly.

“What the hell does that have to do with anything?”

“Nothing. I was just wondering if you wanted him to do the funeral service.”

“Nah. I’m just going to have her cremated. Cheapest way to go and she won’t care anyway. But I can’t do that till they finish the autopsy. At least, that’s what the cops told me.”

“The police were here?” I ask, knowing full well that Travis has already spoken to him. But now I have to wonder if Travis asked Derrick where he was at the time of Abby’s death, because I for one, would sure like to know.

“They were the ones who told me about Abby slipping and hitting her head. Asked me about a dog, too, but I don’t nothing about no dog.”

My neck feels like it’s been plugged into an electric socket.

I’ve just caught Derrick Delgado in a whopper.

“Why did they want to know about a dog?” I ask trying to sound innocent.

He scowls. “What do you care? Where are those papers you brought me?”

I rifle through my bag, pretending to look for them. “You’re not going to believe this, but, um, I forgot the papers.”

He rolls his eyes in disgust. “What’s wrong with you people? First, you never return my calls. Now you show up here with no papers? Wouldn’t have happened if they’d sent a man.”

“I’ll see if I can rustle you up one of those,” I mutter.

He raises a bushy brow at me.

I clear my throat. “No worries. We’ll get those papers back out here pronto.”