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

“Go on.”

“Abby’s brother, Derrick Delgado, is her heir, and according to Travis, she left him a bundle.”

Jim’s eyes narrow. “He told you that too?”

“Not in so many words. I sort of…inferred it.”

No one except my family and Will knows that I’m a human lie detector. Not Lanie. Not Sarah. But what the heck. Like I said, Jim is really easy to talk to, but more than that, even though I barely know him, something deep in my gut tells me to trust him. If anyone will believe me, it’s him.

I take a deep breath. “This might sound odd, but I can always tell when someone is lying. Or hiding something.”

He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. “That must prove interesting.”

“You think I’m strange.”

“Not at all. I believe that some people are very adept at reading others.”

“It’s more than that. I can see through the most benign lies. Go ahead. Try and lie to me.”

“You want me to lie to you?”

“In a way you already did. When you called my gift interesting when what you really meant was something else.”

He grins sheepishly. “Okay, I’ll play along. Let’s see, I got married when I was twenty-four.”

“That’s the truth.”

“My wife’s name was Julie.”

“True.”

“Our anniversary is May thirteen.”

“None of those were lies, Jim.”

He frowns. “I made that too easy. Let’s go again. This time I’ll tell you three things in a row.” He pauses to think. “Got it. Here you go: Travis’s middle name is James.” He pauses. “Julie was a schoolteacher.” Another pause. “Our first home was on Spring Street.”

“Your wife wasn’t a schoolteacher.”

He blinks. “What?”

“Your wife wasn’t a teacher,” I repeat.

“What made you pick that one?”

“All three statements were important to you because they’re about your family. I can’t explain it because it’s different for everyone, but with you, there’s a hitch in your voice when you talk about your family, but the bit about your late wife being a teacher, it was devoid of any emotion. Like it didn’t matter to you because it wasn’t real.”

He looks stunned. “I thought I was careful to keep my voice the same.”

I shrug.

“How long have you been able to do this?”

“Ever since I can remember. And, I’m kind of sensitive about it, so I’d appreciate it if you keep what I’ve just told you between us.”

“Of course,” he says, but I can tell he’s still not sold. “Have you ever thought of going to Vegas? You’d make a killing at the poker tables.”

I laugh. “Not my thing.”