Stranger Danger (Lucy McGuffin, Psychic Amateur Detective 4)

I look over at the bar area, but I don’t see Will. Has he left already? Travis is talking to my parents, oblivious to the fact that his date (not that I’m calling myself his date, but I’m pretty sure both he and my mother would) is about to be kicked out of the building.

I could walk away with my pictures. After all, what is Anita going to do? Have me arrested? Take away my phone? I’d like to see her try. This is a spanking brand-new iPhone 11. I stood in line two hours in the pouring rain outside the phone store the day it came out, used my free upgrade, and renewed my contract into the next century to get it at a decent price. But if I don’t cow down to her, then Hoyt and the fake J.W. will know they can be exposed, and they might leave town before Travis can arrest them.

Reluctantly, I hand Anita the Hun my phone. She scrolls through my picture gallery with a pinched expression. “We specifically asked that no photos be taken tonight.” She holds my phone up to my face. “You took two photos of Mr. Quicksilver. Erase them now.”

There are over a dozen pictures of the signing table all taken from various angles, most of them fuzzy looking, one not so good photo of “Mr. Quicksilver” and one clear photo of him, which is impressive considering that I took these basically blindfolded. It kills me to erase them, but I have no choice. Anita inspects my phone to make sure I’ve deleted all the photos.

I try to sound beaten down. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to break the rules, but I was just so overwhelmed with excitement.” I turn to “J.W.” and make a cringy face. “I hope this doesn’t ruin our arrangement?”

Like a rock star who’s used to his fans getting out of line, he smiles indulgently. “No worries, my dear. I completely understand.”

I take my “autographed” book and head toward the door, where Travis is waiting for me. “Where’s Will?” I ask. “And what were you two talking about for so long?”

“Nothing,” Travis says vaguely. “And I have no idea where he is. He probably went to the bathroom or something.” He points to the book in my hand. “So, how was meeting the great J.W. Quicksilver in person?”

“Horrible.”

The valet brings us Travis’s car. Once we’re alone, he turns in his seat to face me. “What do you mean, horrible?” His expression tightens. “Did Quicksilver make a pass at you?”

“Never mind that. Did you get my text?”

“What text?”

“Just check your phone before I explode.”

Travis pulls his cell phone from his jacket pocket and swipes his screen open. He studies it intently. “Is this supposed to turn me on? Because if it is, it’s working.”

What? I grab the phone from his hand. Oh no. It’s the selfie I took of myself in the miniskirt to play with Brittany’s head.

“I didn’t mean to send you that. It was supposed to be a joke on Brittany.” I scroll through the other pictures in the text. To my relief, they’re all there, including the fuzzy ones and … Yes! Staring back at me is a clear as day photo of the man signing books this evening.

“Let me explain,” I say. “I took a bunch of pictures tonight—”

“Even though we were explicitly told not to?”

“So I broke the rules. Sue me. I took a bunch of pictures, but I was afraid I might get caught, which I did, thanks to Brittany’s big mouth, but I was able to blind-text them to you before they made me delete them.” I hold the screen up to show him the photo. “This is what I texted you.”

Travis looks amused. “I don’t know. This one isn’t doing anything for me. I liked the other picture better.”

“Ha ha. Pay attention. I texted you this picture because … this man? The one who charmed everyone with his reading tonight and autographed books? This man is not J.W. Quicksilver.”

Chapter Six

Travis’s grin fades. “What do you mean? If this isn’t J.W. Quicksilver, then who is he?”

“That’s what I need you to find out. Can you run this picture through a facial recognition program?”

“I work for the Whispering Bay Police Department. This isn’t Quantico.” Travis starts the engine. “Let’s save this for somewhere more private.”

Good idea. We drive back to The Bistro and head into the kitchen. The first thing I do is let Paco out to do his business, then kick off my heels and put on a pot of coffee. We’re going to need caffeine to get through this conversation. On a whim, I reach up into a cabinet and retrieve a tin full of yesterday’s muffins. “Want one?” I offer.

He opts for a cinnamon streusel. When Travis first moved to town, he told me he was a “donut” man, but he quickly wised up and switched his allegiance to team muffin.

My cell phone pings. I pull it out of my purse. It’s Will. I’ll call you later, I text.

Travis glances curiously at my phone, but he doesn’t ask. He leans against the counter and takes a sip of his coffee. “What makes you think the man we saw tonight wasn’t J.W. Quicksilver?”

“For one thing, he’s lying. He’s not Scottish, and he didn’t write those books.”