Stranger Danger (Lucy McGuffin, Psychic Amateur Detective 4)

“Thanks. You’ve been real sweet to listen to me.” On her way out the door, she turns to wave goodbye.

So that didn’t provide much in the way of information.

It looks like the only person who can give me the answers that are going to help Will is Archie Clements. And he’s sitting in the Whispering Bay jail waiting for the feds to come get him. Somehow, I need to find a way to get to him first.

Chapter Thirteen

I’ve had a few hours to think of a plan to get me inside the jail to talk to Archie Clements, but it’s going to depend on a massive dose of luck. Hopefully, the sleuthing god

s are with me today.

After the last customer leaves, I lock up. Since it’s Jill’s day to do final cleanup, I run upstairs to take a quick shower before heading down to the police station. Betty Jean follows me into the apartment.

“That went well, don’t you think?”

“Actually, yeah. It did. Thanks, Betty Jean. You’re a real lifesaver.”

Her gaze follows me as I grab a clean set of clothes from my dresser. “Who would have thought you and I would be the same size?”

Yeah. About that. It’s kind of creepy that she went through my stuff to get my T-shirt. But on the other hand, she was such a trooper about chipping in to help that I really can’t complain.

“The same size on top, I mean. All your jeans are way too big for me in the butt. You know, there’s exercises you can do to get rid of that. I still have an old Jane Fonda workout tape if you want to borrow it. Go for the burn!”

I honestly have no idea what to say to that.

“Of course, some men really like that extra junk in the trunk. Looks like you’ve found two of them. Well done! I didn’t think you had it in you, but—”

“Betty Jean, do you mind? I’d rather not talk about my love life.”

“Whatever you say. But if you ever want some man advice, I’m your girl. I managed to get four of ’em to the altar, you know.”

And get divorced four times too. I wisely keep that statistic to myself.

“I was thinking,” says Betty Jean. “The cops said I could go back to my house today, but I know you hate to be here all alone.”

“No worries,” I say quickly. “You’ve done enough already. I can manage.”

“But why should you when I can stay longer? Besides, I got ripped off last night. I thought we were going to drink margaritas and give each other mani-pedis. Instead you spent the night with Will Cunningham.” She tsks. “I never thought you were the type to choose bros over hoes.”

I blink hard. “I think you’ve got that expression wrong.”

“No, I don’t. It means you picked a man over one of your girlfriends.”

“No, it means … oh, never mind. Sure, you can spend the night again.”

“Great! I’ll have dinner ready when you get home.”

Oh boy.

I hop into the bathroom and start to undress when I discover an earring in the pocket of my jeans. I’d forgotten all about it. I stick my head out the bathroom door. “Hey, Betty Jean, I found your earring.”

She comes over to look at the earring in my outstretched palm. “What made you think that gaudy piece of glass belongs to me?”

“I found it on the grass outside your house.”

“Then it could belong to anyone.”

“It was over by the hibiscus bushes. Beneath a window. Um, the second window back? I thought maybe you lost it while gardening.”