Murder By Muffin (Lucy McGuffin, Psychic Amateur Detective 3)

Paco’s little body relaxes.

No worries, buddy. You and I are a team.

He nods his head at me like he can read my mind. I’m beginning to think that seeing dead people is just the tip of the iceberg where his skills are concerned. Seriously, I think my dog might be psychic as well.

“Let’s see,” Allie says, going over her notes again. “Paco was with you when you found the dead bodies of Abby Delgado and the three men that El Tigre killed. Correct? Is that a coincidence? Did he help you in any way?”

What I’d like to say is:

Actually, Paco is the one who found the dead bodies, not me. He’s a ghost whisperer. At least, that’s what the Sunshine Ghost Society thinks, and from what I’ve seen, I have to agree.

But since I have no desire to get Baker Acted, I carefully say, “Paco was a huge help. Like most dogs, he’s got great instincts.”

There, that’s vague enough that I didn’t really say anything, but it should satisfy her.

Allie nods thoughtfully. “And Will Cunningham, our head librarian here in Whispering Bay—he was with you as well when you caught El Tigre?”

“Oh yes. If it wasn’t for Will and Paco, I’d probably be at the bottom of the gulf swimming with the fishes.”

“You’ve known Will a long time, huh?”

“Just my whole life. He’s one of my oldest friends. My best friend, actually.”

Allie doesn’t say anything, and for an instant I’m afraid that something in my voice has given me away. My best friend that I’m in love with.

Except there was that kiss with Travis …

Travis Fontaine, the new hot cop in town, says he wants to date me. But not until I sort out my feelings for Will. Which is pretty confusing because with all that’s going on with this cooking competition, not to mention catching all these murderers, who has time for romance?

Allie flips through her notebook. “I took the liberty of asking your parents a few background questions. I hope that’s okay.”

“Sure.” I squirm a bit on the couch. I love my parents to death. Molly and George McGuffin are the best. But … occasionally, my mother can get a bit dramatic. “Um, what did they say about me?”

“Oh, you know, the usual. They said you were completely wonderful.” Allie’s eyes twinkle like she’s teasing, only I know this is probably exactly what they said. My chest swells with love.

“So, let’s see … you’re a local girl, born and bred. After graduating college, you went on to culinary school, then came back home to work here at The Bistro and eventually bought out the former owner. And now your restaurant is the front runner to win a national cooking competition. That’s quite a success story.”

“Well, we haven’t won yet,” I say, trying to sound modest. “The rest of the competitors are pretty awesome. Off the record, my favorite place to eat in town is The Burger Barn. And really, running a business, especially a restaurant, is a lot of hard work. I’m lucky enough to live above the café, so the first thing I do every morning, after walking Paco, is start baking the muffins. Sarah is here by 5 a.m. so we can prep for the breakfast crowd. We close at two, but then one of us does cleanup. We have Jill, who helps us out part-time, but it’s still pretty much a ten- to twelve-hour day six days a week for us.”

“Wow. How on earth do you find time to solve crime?”

“Since crime finds me, I don’t have much of a choice,” I joke.

“Your mother says you’re a member of your brother’s parish, St. Perpetua’s?”

“When your brother’s a priest, you can’t very well miss Mass, can you?”

Allie chuckles and glances at her notes again. “She also said that you were quite active in Young Catholic Singles.”

Rats. I knew that lie was going to come back to bite me in the butt. I can’t very well have my mother read the truth in the local paper—that I’ve been lying to her all this time about being a member of Young Catholic Singles.

“Yeah, about that—”

A knock on my apartment door interrupts my thoughts. Without waiting for an answer, Gilly, Tara’s assistant, barges in. Gilly Franklin is tall and lanky with dark hair pulled up in a ponytail that looks as if it’s on the verge of collapsing. “Sorry to interrupt, but Tara needs you.”

“Now? I’m in the middle of an interview.”

“Yes, now,” she says. The panic in her voice makes me sigh. Gilly is fresh out of college, and this is her first professional job, so I try to cut her some slack. After all, she can’t help it if her boss is the real-world equivalent of Cersei Lannister (did I mention I’m a big Game of Thrones fan?).