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

“Yep,” I say, grinning, “We just got Derrick Delgado’s fingerprints.”

Chapter Fifteen

“Ha!” I shout gleefully from the backseat of the car. “Now all you have to do is match the fingerprints on that mail flag to the prints on the doorknob, and you’ll have the proof you need. I can’t wait to see the look on Derrick Delgado’s face when you arrest him for breaking into the rec center.”

Travis turns around in his seat to face me. “That’s if the prints match. And even if they do that doesn’t mean he entered the building illegally.”

“Have you always had such a negative attitude? Good thing I was there when the technicians were dusting the doorknob. Don’t forget my prints are going to be there too. Do you think I should be reprinted? So that the lab can tell whose prints belong to who?”

“The lab is perfectly capable of making that distinction,” Travis says testily.

“Anyone want to stop for a burger and a shake?” Will asks. “I didn’t have dinner so—”

“You’re just mad because you didn’t think to get Derrick’s fingerprints,” I say to Travis.

“Hardly. Like I said, even if his fingerprints are there, it doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”

“I know. I know. I should leave it to the professionals.”

Travis makes a growling sound deep in his throat. “I admit, getting his fingerprints was pretty clever. Happy now?”

“Extremely.”

Will catches my gaze in the rearview mirror. He looks confused.

“What?” I say to him. “Oh. The burger and shake. I’m good either way.”

“Yeah,” says Travis. “Stop if you want, or don’t. It doesn’t matter to me.”

Will doesn’t say anything, and he doesn’t stop for food either. Instead, he drives back to his house in silence. Once there, Travis heads to the police station with the evidence I’m pretty sure is going to get Derrick in a lot of hot water. Or at least I hope so.

“Luce,” Will says, stopping me as I’m about to get in my car, “What was all that about?”

“All what about?”

He pushes his glasses up his nose. “Between you and Travis. I know you don’t like the guy, but that was a little extreme, don’t you think?”

“Oh, that.” I chuckle. “That was just some good-natured ribbing. Travis is…all right. A little stuffy, maybe, but we made our peace last night.”

“Last night?”

“He came by my place after hours to talk about the case. He even ate one of my muffins. And he liked it. I was working on my newest batch of the mango coconut recipe. I think I’m really close to perfecting it.”

Will nods thoughtfully, but I can tell something’s bothering him. Only I have no idea what it might be, and he doesn’t seem inclined to tell me, so we say our goodbyes, and I head to The Bistro.

Back home in my apartment, I settle in for my third night (and second in a row) with Paco, who insists on sleeping at the foot of my bed. I think I’m going to have to double my dose of Benadryl.

Even though I’ve basically taken enough medication to put me in a coma, I have trouble sleeping. I lay awake with Paco snuggled next to me, and I can’t help but think about Susan Van Dyke. Anthony and Aurelia made her sound like she was a nice person. I really need to do right by this little dog of hers.

The next morning, I drag myself out of bed because once again I didn’t fall asleep until after two. Paco, on the other hand, looks chirpy and refreshed. Currently, he’s trotting back and forth between the apartment upstairs and the restaurant. He goes up to the patrons, happily accepting their pats on his head, and never begs or makes a pest of himself.

It’s as if he’s on his best behavior, showing me what a great addition he’d make to The Bistro. Unfortunately, his nice dog routine isn’t going to work with me because I can’t live on Benadryl forever.

Just as I think that I need to call Lanie to update her on the dog situation, she and Dharma walk through the door. Paco immediately runs up to be petted.

“Hey, little guy!” Lanie scoops him up and kisses him on the nose. “Isn’t he adorable?” she asks Dharma.

Dharma gazes at Paco warily.