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

“He’s Paco,” I automatically correct him. “At least while he’s here with me. Cornelius is such a stuffy sounding name.”

Travis stares at the other half of the muffin.

Nope. Don’t even think about it. Officer Fontaine sealed his culinary fate when he decreed himself a donut man.

“Any word on the autopsy report yet?” I ask.

“Not yet.”

“But Abby died when she hit her head, right? Do you think someone knocked her down?”

“I can’t discuss that with you.”

“Look, you seriously don’t think my brother had anything to do with her death. He’s a priest, for God’s sake.”

“Your brother is hindering a police investigation by refusing to tell us what he and Abby were doing in the rec center in the middle of the night. There’s also the matter of the unlocked door. Technically they’re both guilty of trespassing.”

“Well, gee, Abby’s dead, so I guess that just leaves Sebastian to arrest. What? Are you trying to fill a quota or something?”

His jaw tightens. I can’t help but feel a teeny bit sorry for him. He’s basically stuck between a rock and a hard place. I begrudgingly hand him the other half of the muffin. “Try this. It’ll make you feel better.”

He eats it almost as fast as Paco did.

“This is really good.”

“Did you think it wouldn’t be?”

“No, I mean, it’s really good.”

r /> “Why, Officer Fontaine, are you flirting with me?” The second I say it, we both freeze because I’m the one who sounds like she’s flirting. “That didn’t come out right.” I pull another muffin out of the tin and hand it over like a peace offering. “Here. In case you get hungry later.”

“Thanks.” He takes it and says casually, “I told you, call me Travis.”

Travis. It’s a name for a lumberjack. Or an old-time western sheriff. It totally fits him.

“Did you ask Abby’s brother where he was at the time of her death?”

He narrows his eyes.

Rats. I’ve just unwittingly reminded him about my nefarious visit to Derrick Delgado. “As a matter of fact, I did. He was playing cards with friends.”

“And you checked up on that?”

“I have two people who swear Derrick was with them from midnight till two in the morning. Even if the time of death is off by an hour, it’s impossible to make it from Mexico Beach that quickly. It’s just too much of a stretch.”

That all sounds logical enough.

Except I can’t get the niggling feeling that of all people, Derrick had the most to gain by Abby’s death. “I’d like to know why he’s so anxious to get her will resolved.”

“He’s her next of kin. No husband. No kids.”

“That’s what I figured. If Abby has any money, I’m sure Derrick will be appreciative. He looks like he’s pretty much living month to month.”

Travis doesn’t blink. Or say a word.

Which…tells me everything.

Holy wow. His face is an open book. Only, I’m pretty sure he hasn’t moved a muscle. It’s like I just know what he’s thinking. A surge of excitement rushes through me. I’ve never been able to read anyone this easily.