Whack The Mole (Lucy McGuffin, Psychic Amateur Detective 2)

Travis takes one look at the dead guy and his expression goes grim. “Are you the one who made the call?”

I tell him exactly how things went down, including how Paco led me to the body. This makes two dead bodies that Paco has discovered. I can’t snicker anymore at the idea that he might really be a ghost whisperer.

Neither can Travis. “He actually jumped out of the car? And he led you right here. To this exact same spot?” The first time I told Travis that Paco led me to a dead body he practically laughed in my face. Now his disbelief is laced with confusion. Logic tells him that there’s no such thing as a ghost whispering dog, but the more intuitive side of him is beginning to wonder.

He glances around the empty soccer field. “Have you seen anyone else?”

“Nope. Just this guy and now you.”

He pulls a cell phone from his shirt pocket and spears me with one of his I’m-a-cop-and-you’re-a-civilian gazes that he’s so good at. “I have to insist that you keep this to yourself.”

“This is the guy you and Rusty got the order for this morning.”

He stills. “How did you know that?”

Oops. Me and my big mouth. No use in pretending anymore. “Because I followed you.”

“You followed me?”

“Not you-you. You and Rusty. That order he put in this morning was ridiculous. Five lattes? C’mon! No self-respecting cop orders a latte when they can get the black swill that passes for coffee down at the station house for free.”

“You followed a police car?”

“Pay attention. Yes, I followed a police car. So what? It’s not illegal, is it?”

“It ought to be. You have no idea what you’re doing here.”

“Okay, so tell me.”

“All I can tell you is that you absolutely cannot tell anyone else what you found here tonight.”

“Why? Is this guy some kind of police informant? Kitty says he was on his honeymoon, but—”

“Kitty? You called Kitty Pappas?”

“Only because she’s the real estate contact for the house.”

“My God, you really are dangerous. Haven’t we been through this before? Lucy, you need to leave these things—”

“To the professionals? Been there. Done that. Almost got killed.”

Travis takes a deep breath like he’s trying to keep from saying something he shouldn’t. “I admit, I handled Abby Delgado’s case poorly. But this is different.”

“You didn’t handle Abby’s case poorly. You just didn’t have all the information I did.”

He frowns. “What do you mean?”

Double oops.

The reason I was able to solve Abby’s murder was because I used my gift.

“Nothing,” I say. “What do you mean this case is different? This is a homicide investigation, right? Who would shoot this poor guy in the head? Do you think he was robbed?”

Whispering Bay is America’s safest city? Ha! I wonder how Brittany and the rest of the chamber of commerce are going to spin this. I don’t think pruning the trees on Main Street and hanging up a bunch of flowery wreaths are going to cut it.

Before Travis can answer, another police car rolls up. It’s Zeke Grant. He’s dressed in civilian clothes and the expression on his face is bone weary. Understandable considering that his wife, Mimi, our city’s mayor, gave birth to twins a couple of weeks ago.

“Lucy,” he greets me tersely.