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

If I could only kick him…

“It’s no big deal,” I say. “Just a first date.”

“Where are you going?”

As if I’d tell him.

I glance at my wristwatch. “Oops! Have to dash. Bye, all!” I scurry away before this turns into the Monty Python version of the Spanish Inquisition.

I drive back to The Bistro, put Paco on his leash and take him for a quick walk. We get back just in time to see a red pickup truck with New Jersey license plates pull into the parking lot.

Mike is wearing jeans and a nice blue button-down shirt. “What’s with all the yellow tape?”

Pretty much everyone in town knows all about the dead body in the dumpster, but Mike isn’t from Whispering Bay, so I feel free to fill him in on what happened.

He whistles low under his breath. “Did you see anything? I mean, do you have any idea who the guy was or who might have done it?”

“Nope,” I lie since I’m not at liberty to discuss this with anyone. “Totally clueless here.”

“I’ve never been this close to a crime scene. Do you mind showing me where you found the body?”

The hairs on my neck feel as if they’ve been plugged into an electric socket. This isn’t Mike’s first rodeo when it comes to crime scenes. He’s seen a dead body before too. I can sense it as clearly as I know my own name. But why lie about it?

I should tell him the area is off limits, but I’m curious to see if he’s going to lie again. “As long as we don’t touch anything, it should be okay.”

We go under the yellow tape and I show him the dumpster. He takes his time, looking things over, walking around the perimeter of the tape.

“Must have been pretty scary, huh? Are you okay?” Then before I can answer, he says, “Sorry, that’s a dumb question.”

My Spidey sense tells me his concern is real.

“I’m okay, but yeah, I was pretty shaken up most of yesterday.”

“How long will The Bistro be closed? Should I cancel this week’s order? Rocko won’t mind. We can reschedule whenever.”

“Actually, we’re reopening tomorrow.”

He looks surprised. “That’s fast.”

Paco barks at Mike to get his attention. “Cute dog. What’s his name?”

“Paco.”

“Hey, Paco.” Mike crouches down to pet him. “Didn’t mean to ignore you there, fella.” Paco allows himself to be petted, then he jumps into the open door of Mike’s truck and stubbornly plants himself in the front seat. He’s giving me his I’m going, and you can’t stop me look.

Mike laughs. “Looks like your dog wants to come along.”

“Paco, get down from there this instant,” I say using my firm voice.

He ignores me and stares straight ahead. He’s never openly defied me before. What’s going on here?

“Paco. Did you hear me? I don’t need a chaperone.”

Mike laughs again like he’s finding the whole situation cute, but frankly, it’s annoying. I mean, I love the little guy but I don’t want him tagging along on my date.

“The Harbor House has an outdoor patio that faces the ocean. I checked it out when I made a delivery there the other day. I’m pretty sure they allow dogs. I don’t mind if he comes if you don’t.”

Paco turns to look at me with an expression that can only be described as smug.