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

She waves goodbye to Tara. “Nice seeing you!”

“Ciao!” Tara bellows as Brittany makes her escape.

I don’t think keeping Tara and Man Bun here will be a problem since they’ve pretty much made themselves at home. Man Bun puts his camera down for a minute to order a coffee and a breakfast sandwich. I hope this isn’t some kind of secret taste test. Not that Sarah’s breakfast sandwiches aren’t to die for, but I wish we’d been given a bit more of a heads up here. It’s not fair that Tara came to our place first and that Brittany is giving the rest of the restaurants in town a heads up.

“Want a muffin with that?” I ask Man Bun.

“What kind you got?”

I point to the handwritten menu on the chalkboard above his head. “Today’s special is the pumpkin spice, but we also have blueberry, double chocolate chip, and apple walnut cream cheese.” The only reason I put blueberry muffins on the menu is because so many people like them, but personally, I find them boring.

“I’ll try the blueberry,” he says.

Figures.

“Wade!” Tara screeches from across the café startling everyone within a half mile. “Keep filming!”

Three people from the back of the café get up to leave. On their way out the door they shake their heads at me as if this invasion of their privacy is somehow my fault.

Thanks a lot, Cooking Channel.

I give Man Bun his order, and he manages to both eat and film at the same time.

Then Rusty and Travis walk in. It’s the first time I’ve seen Travis since the night I discovered Ken Cameron’s body. Paco runs over to greet them.

Travis scratches Paco in his favorite spot behind his ears. ‘Hey, Lucy.”

“Hi,” I say trying to act “normal” per his previous instructions. “What’ll it be today?”

Rusty pulls a paper from his pocket. “Six lattes, two dozen muffins—assorted but heavy on the double chocolate chip--four turkey sandwiches, and three tubs of Sarah’s mac and cheese.”

Six lattes? It’s hard not to smirk at this ridiculousness. “And this will be to go?” I ask punching the order into the computer.

“Yep,” says Travis. As if he senses someone behind him, he turns to find Man Bun pointing a camera at him.

“Get that thing out of my face,” Travis warns.

“Chill out. Just act natural, dude.”

“What’s going on?” asks Rusty.

“This is the crew from the Cooking Channel. They’re here today to take some footage of the café.”

“We’ll be filming all the participating restaurants in town,” says Tara. “It will help us decide whether or not we want to pick Whispering Bay for our next season of Battle of the Beach Eats.”

Rusty puffs out his chest. “Russell Newton, twenty-two-year veteran of the Whispering Bay Police Department at your service,” he says directly into the camera.

“Nice to meet you, Russell!” Tara says. “But we don’t want you talking to the camera. You’re supposed to pretend like we’re not here.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Rusty looks off in the other direction, but it looks awkward like he’s avoiding the camera which is the exact opposite of what Tara is going for.

Travis looks tense. Not that I blame him. Here they are on a super top-secret mission to get muffins for Joey “The Weasel” and his FBI team, and they’re being filmed while doing it.

“Who’s going to be looking at this film?” he asks.

“Just me and a few other producers from the network,” says Tara. She studies Travis with interest. “Has anyone ever told you that you look like Ryan Reynolds?”

“Doesn’t he?” says Betty Jean, who I hadn’t noticed before in line. “I was the first one in town to point it out.”