Stranger Danger (Lucy McGuffin, Psychic Amateur Detective 4)

“Oh, yes, please.”

He opens the book to the title page. “Who should I sign this to?”

I can’t help but play with him a little. “How about to Lucy, your number one fan?”

He chuckles. “Ah. Excellent taste. I’m a Stephen King fan too,” he says, referencing my quote from Misery.

“The man who wrote these books,” I say, pointing to the stack in front of him, “I feel as if I’ve known that man all my life.”

He pauses in the middle of signing. “Do you now, lassie?” He looks up at me with narrowed eyes, like he isn’t sure what to make of our exchange.

I can’t wait to see this guy and “Hoyt” taken away in handcuffs. I have to tell Travis what they’re up to. No way is this their first rodeo. This little act of theirs is too polished. The problem is, how do I prove to Travis that this guy isn’t the real J.W. Quicksilver without giving Will away? I could wait until Will’s big announcement tomorrow at Betty Jean’s book club, but by then it might be too late. They could skip town in the middle of the night.

My brain is scrambling with ideas when I realize I’m still holding on to my cell phone. My heart trips over in excitement. If I could just manage to take a photo of this guy …

Using my purse as a shield from detection, I hold my phone at waist level and aim it in his direction. “So, Mr. Quicksilver, what part of Scotland are you from?”

“Are you familiar with my homeland?” he asks, neatly evading my question.

Since I can’t look through the camera lens, I’m not sure if I’m getting a good angle or not, so I snap as many pictures as possible. “Not really. But I’m a big Outlander fan. You?

??ve read the books, right? By Diana Gabaldon?”

“Read them? My dear, Diana and I are good friends. She actually comes to me for writing advice.”

“Really?” I lean in closer to the table, allowing me to snap off a few more pictures, then blindly hit a couple of buttons on my phone. I really hope this works. “You know, Mr. Quicksilver, I’ve written a romance, but I’m having a hard time getting it published.” I glance back at Hoyt and smile. He gives me a thumbs-up.

“A romance?” The corner of J.W.’s mouth quirks up slightly. His condescending attitude ratchets up my anger a few more notches.

“My mother has read it, and she absolutely loves it. So do the rest of the ladies in her bridge club.”

“I’d love to hear more about it. Perhaps we can find a time to meet while I’m here in town?”

“Gosh, that would be fabulous. I’ve already spoken to Hoyt about … you know, your special program.”

“Have you?” He gives me an oily smile. “And you’re interested?”

“Definitely. I have to work during the day, but I’ll be at Betty Jean’s book club meeting tomorrow night. I could bring you a copy of my manuscript.”

“Perfect,” he says. “I’ll have my assistant make a note of it.”

Before I can continue the conversation, Brittany waves me off to the side. “Lucy, you can’t hog all of J.W.’s time,” she scolds. “Are you paying with cash or credit card?”

I try to discreetly slide my phone back into the side pocket of my purse, but before I can manage it, Brittany blurts out, “You haven’t been taking pictures, have you?”

I freeze. “What? No! Of course not.”

Brittany and I lock gazes. She immediately makes an oops, sorry face. But it’s too late. Anita, the assistant, has caught on. She puts out the palm of her hand. “Hand over your phone.”

“Why? I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Then you won’t mind if I scroll through your picture gallery, do you?” she snaps back. Huh. Anita seemed a lot mousier five minutes ago.

I glance around the room. Everyone within hearing distance is staring at me.

Anita turns to Brittany. “Do you know this person? Do we need to call security?”

“No, of course not. Lucy,” Brittany pleads, “hand over your phone.”