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

Paco trots into the house like he owns it, which, I suppose, he kind of does.

“Miss Deborah is in the study.” Anthony ushers me into a good-sized room filled with dark wooden shelves. A woman, maybe in her late seventies, thin and very fashionably dressed, is wrapping up books and placing them into a packing box.

Paco catches sight of her and freezes.

“I see the little mongrel has found his way back home.” She studies me with cool blue eyes. “You must be Miss McGuffin. The lawyer said you would be by today. Let’s get this over with. How much do you want?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Aren’t you looking for a reward for returning Cornelius?”

My spine stiffens. “No reward necessary. I just want to see him returned to his family.”

“Unfortunately his family, as you put it, is dead.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.” She goes back to packing up the books, which I suppose is my cue to slink off, but there’s no way I’m leaving Paco with this cold fish until I know for certain he’ll be well taken care of.

“Does he belong to you now?”

“I live half the year in Manhattan and the other half in Paris. My lifestyle isn’t suited for a dog.”

I frown. “What sort of provisions did your sister make for Cornelius?”

“You mean, in her will?” She laughs like I’ve just said something funny. “Susan would never leave me her precious Cornelius. She knew how much I detested him. Unfortunately, my sister didn’t make any provisions for the dog. I suppose it simply never occurred to her that the dog would outlive her. She was very egotistical that way.”

“Oh. I thought…that is, I thought she had cancer.”

“She did. But she’d been in remission for a while now. Her death came as a surprise.” She narrows her eyes at me. “How did you end up with the dog?”

“He was a with a woman named Abby Delgado. Does that name ring a bell?”

“No, but I didn’t know a lot of my sister’s friends. Like I said, I don’t live here. I just came down to clear up her estate and put the house up for sale.”

“Abby, that’s the woman who had Cornelius, died unexpectedly a few days ago. I’d assumed that Susan had given her the dog.”

“I had no idea Florida was so dangerous,” she deadpans. She looks down her nose at Paco. “Or perhaps you’re the bad omen.”

I really don’t like this woman. Although, she has a point. How strange that both Susan and Abby died just days apart from one another. “Do know how Abby might have gotten possession of Cornelius?”

“A few days after Susan died, the little beast needed to go outside to do his business.” She shudders in disgust. “Naturally I put him out in the yard to give him his privacy like I’d done before. Only this time, when I went to let him back inside, he was gone.”

In other words, Deborah put him out, forgot all about him and Paco probably ran away. I catch Paco’s gaze. I swear he’s looking at her with the same disgust that I feel.

“Can I ask what you plan to do with him?”

“Find him a good home, I suppose.” She looks at me with renewed interest. “Do you want him?”

“Absolutely.”

With my allergy getting in the way, I can’t keep him. But no way am I going to let Paco’s fate rest in Cruella deVil’s spiny fingers. I’ll find him a good home of my own choosing. Maybe Lanie will take him.

“Wonderful. Anthony will show you and Cornelius out now.”

She can’t get rid of us fast enough which is just as well because (and I think I can speak for Paco) neither of us want to stay a minute longer than necessary.

I don’t need anyone to show me out. I scoop Paco up in my arms, and just as I’m about to open the door on my own, Anthony shows up.