Not important, Lucy!
After a quick shower, I head over to my parents. The house smells of my mom’s chicken cacciatore causing my stomach to rumble in anticipation. Paco does a happy dance. “Remember,” I warn him as we go through the front door, “we’re on our best behavior which means no begging.”
He barks in response.
I’m no sooner in the door than my entire family, Will included, descend on me like a flock of wild egrets. News of the dead guy has gotten around town, which was to be expected eventually, but I thought I’d have time to tell them in person.
“We just heard what happened at The Bistro,” says Will. “Why didn’t you call and tell us?”
“Sorry, my bad. It just happened this afternoon. I didn’t think it would get around this fast.”
“What is going on here?” Mom demands. “How did a dead body get into your parking lot?”
Why does everyone think I had any control over this?
“Technically, it was in the dumpster.”
Dad makes a pained face. “Does this have anything to do with…you know, your gift?”
“You mean her ability to sniff out a lie?” Sebastian clarifies.
Mom tsks. “I have no idea where she got that.” She glares at Dad. “It must come from your side of the family.”
I guess this isn’t a good time to tell them that Paco sees ghosts.
“I think you should stay here at your parents’ house tonight,” says Will.
“You and Travis both, but I don’t see why.”
“Why?” Will mimics. “Because some psycho has used your place to dump a dead body! Who knows where this killer is now?”
I’d forgotten that no one except me and a handful of cops are privy to the whole Joey “The Weasel” situation. If they knew this was all mob related, then they’d know that I’m safe. Sort of. I mean, no one’s getting a half million dollars to whack me, so what would be the point?
As if things couldn’t get worse, the front doorbell rings, and it’s Brittany. I’m pretty sure Brittany has only been to my parents’ home twice. Once back when I was seven and Mom made me invite the whole class to my birthday party and some other random time back in fifth grade when we were in the same girl scout troop. She greets everyone with her dazzling Brittany smile. “I’m so sorry to interrupt, but I need to speak to Lucy.”
“We were just going to sit down to dinner,” says Mom. “George, put an extra plate on the table.”
“Oh! That’s so sweet of you, but I couldn’t intrude.”
“Any friend of Lucy’s is always welcome for dinner.”
Brittany glances shyly at Will. “If you’re absolutely certain…”
“We insist! Right, Lucy?”
“Right,” I say, although I have a feeling I’m going to regret this.
“We were just scolding Lucy here for not telling us about what happened at The Bistro this afternoon,” Dad says.
“Oh! It was horrible. I was there too.”
Mom puts an arm around Brittany to console her. “Do the police have any clue who the man was or what he was doing there to begin with?”
“They’re still investigating,” I say vaguely.
“It was probably some tourist,” Dad says. “Each season they get weirder and weirder.”
“So, what did you need to see me about?” I ask Brittany.