Stranger Danger (Lucy McGuffin, Psychic Amateur Detective 4)

With Betty Jean back in the house, I walk over toward the barricade. My parents, as well as the rest of the book club members, are on the other side. “Lucy! What’s going on? Are you okay?” Mom asks. “Is it true? Is J.W. Quicksilver—I mean, is that man dead?” Apparently, word has gotten out on the street that the man they all came to see wasn’t J.W. Quicksilver but an impostor.

“I’m fine. And yes, he’s dead. But until Travis gives me permission, I can’t say much else.”

Dad shakes his head. “Horrible. The crime in this town is reaching epidemic proportions. And to think, we used to be the Safest City in America,” he says, referring to the city’s tagline. He has a point.

“Lucy!” Brittany pushes her way to the front of the crowd. “What’s going on? I hear there’s been a murder!” She lowers her voice. “Where’s the real J.W. Quicksilver? Didn’t you tell me he was going to be here tonight?”

“I have no idea where he is, but … yeah, he’ll be here. He promised.”

“Who is he?” she demands.

“Not now, Brittany.”

She makes a huffing sound. “Then when?”

“I promise you, once you find out who it is, this will all make sense.”

A woman in the crowd taps Brittany on the shoulder, and they engage in conversation.

Victor Marino and I exchange glances. He looks worried. Not that I blame him. Now that Jefferson Pike is dead, everything about his con scheme will come out, including the victims he swindled. I hope the police can recoup his money.

My cell phone rings. It’s Will!

“Where have you been? I’ve been calling you all day.”

“It’s a long story.”

“I’m listening.”

“Not on the phone.” He sounds tense. “Can you come over to my place?’

“Not until the police tell me I can leave.”

“Leave where? Lucy, what’s going on?”

“The guy who’s been impersonating you? His name was Jefferson Pike. And he’s dead.”

“Dead?” There’s a pause. “How?”

“He was stabbed in the chest. Paco and I found him at Betty Jean’s house. Speaking of which, aren’t you supposed to be here for your big coming-out party? What happened?”

“That’s part of the long story. I’m on my way to the police station to talk to the cops.”

My Spidey sense shakes a tambourine in my face. If I’ve learned anything in these past couple of months, it’s that I should listen to it. “No, don’t go to the cops. Not until we have a chance to talk first.”

“But—”

“Promise me,” I add firmly.

We make plans to meet up later tonight, then hang up. Rusty hands me a cup of coffee. I take a deep, appreciative sip. “Thanks. I needed that. Can you thank the Good Samaritan who provided this?”

“You can thank her yourself.” He points to the other side of the barricade, where Heidi Burrows stands behind a card table handing out donuts and cups of coffee.

She’s shameless. She really is. I suppose this is more of her “community relations” program. This coffee doesn’t taste nearly as good as it did a few seconds ago.

Heidi spots me and waves. I have no choice but to wave back. “Thanks for the coffee,” I call out.

She makes a thumbs-up gesture.