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

My stomach suddenly feels the way it does when I’ve eaten too much raw muffin batter (I know, I know, I’m not supposed to do that).

Jim thinks I have feelings for Will. Am I that obvious?

And why is Travis so sure that Will and I are only friends? Unless he and Will have talked about me too. They’re in the same basketball league, so they’ve definitely spent time together. Will must have told Travis that his feelings for me are strictly platonic. It’s the reason Travis is so confident that I’ll go out with him.

“I’m not dating Will,” I say as firmly as possible. “It’s someone else, but, it’s in the early stages so I’d rather not discuss it.”

Jim politely changes the subject just like I knew he would.

We spend a few more minutes chatting about nothing in particular. A part of me wishes I could sink into the floor for lying to Jim about this new mysterious boyfriend of mine, and another part wishes I could get his thoughts about the dead FBI agent, but I promised Travis I wouldn’t tell anyone and that includes his father.

Jim finishes up his late morning breakfast. When I get back to the counter, Brittany is waiting for me. “Lucy!” she hisses. “What’s Tara still doing here?”

“What happened to keep them here as long as possible?”

“I didn’t mean for you to monopolize them! Never mind, at least I was able to warn all the other restaurants in town. I just wish we’d gotten those wreaths in time. They’re completely adorable.”

“I don’t think wreaths on the door are going to matter to Tara and the people at the Cooking Channel. They’re looking for—”

“Of course it matters! Looks are everything!”

“Are you going to order something or not? Because I’m busy.”

Brittany looks hurt by my snappiness.

“Sorry,” I mutter, “You’re right, the wreaths would have been a game changer.”

She accepts my apology with a sniff. “I guess while I’m here I might as well eat something. Can I have the turkey Rueben sandwich, only without the bread and the cheese and the sauerkraut?”

“That just leaves the turkey.”

“Perfect!”

No wonder Brittany is a size two. I make her a turkey lettuce wrap, and she takes a seat in the middle of the café. Probably so she can keep an eye on Tara.

Sarah and I switch up spots, with me in the kitchen and her manning the counter. I prep up some sandwiches and clean up the area by the fridge. Our trash is overflowing, so I bag it up and head outside to the back parking lot with Paco alongside me.

It’s the first time I’ve been out in the sun today. I turn my face toward the sky and shut my eyes to bask in the gorgeous November weather and catch up on my Vitamin D.

Paco starts barking violently.

My eyes fly open.

What’s going on?

He’s sitting in front of the dumpster, and he’s acting strangely, as if…

My skin goes clammy.

“What’s wrong, boy?” I walk toward him and set the trash bag on the ground. Now that I’m standing next to the dumpster, Paco goes quiet. He sits there patiently, waiting.

I take a deep breath.

Even though a part of me says this really can’t be happening, another part (the part that listens to my Spidey sense) warns me exactly what I’m about to find. Like I said, my dog has skills.

I say a quick Hail Mary in my head, then open the lid to the dumpster.

A man stares back at me. Only there’s a bullet hole between his eyes so I don’t think he can actually see me.