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

“Sure it’s going to help,” Will says firmly, “but first, Lucy needs to take a long nap. As a matter of fact, she was on her way upstairs to her apartment when you knocked on the door. Right, Lucy?”

“I think that’s our cue to go now,” says Darren.

Brittany reluctantly makes her way toward the door. “Remember, Lucy, plead, beg, grovel. Do whatever you need to do. But get back on that show.”

Chapter Four

Will practically tucks me into bed, but I’m so tired I can’t even let myself get tingly about it. When I wake up, it’s dark. I check my phone. It’s almost eight. I’ve slept for over three hours. After I splash water on my face, I put on my sneakers and grab Paco’s leash.

“Okay, so here’s the deal,” I say to him. “We’re going to see Tara, and we’re going to throw ourselves on her mercy, which means you have to be on your best behavior. Got it?”

He wags his tail in response. When he chooses, Paco can be extremely charming. It’s shameless, but I’m not above using my dog to score brownie points with Tara.

I carefully place the muffins in the back seat of the car. Paco hops up in the front of my VW Beetle, and we take off for the rented beach house where Tara and the rest of the production crew are staying.

Gilly answers the door. “Lucy.” She wets her lips nervously. Gilly is definitely a cherry gluten-free muffin—a muffin that requires not just gluten-free flour, but almond flour and flaxseed meal too. A lot of fuss for a fruit muffin, in my opinion.

“I’m here to see Tara.”

“This probably isn’t the best time. She’s kind of in a mood, if you know what I mean.”

I know exactly what she means, although I can’t imagine Tara being in a worse mood than the one she was in this afternoon. “I’m here to apologize.” I show Gilly the muffins. “These are Tara’s favorite—apple walnut cream cheese. I made a special batch with extra walnuts, just for her.”

“I don’t think that’s going to help.”

“Sure it will.” If my apple walnut cream cheese muffins don’t put Tara in a good mood, then nothing will.

Gilly shrugs as if to say, You can try, then ushers me inside the McMansion. This is one of those five-bedroom deals right on the gulf that gets rented out on a regular basis. It’s more than big enough to house the show’s production team, and it probably comes out cheaper than individual hotel rooms.

“She’s in the den, going over schedules.” Gilly points to the door. “Good luck,” she says before slinking off. Poor Gilly. She’s not even in the same room as Tara and she’s still intimidated by her.

I stare at the closed door, thinking hard of what I’m going to say. Beg, grovel, and plead just aren’t my style, but I have to come up with something humbling enough to satisfy Tara’s bloodlust.

The sound of hushed voices drifts from the back of the house. Probably Gilly and one of the camera guys. I have to admit I’m getting nervous here. This isn’t how I pictured the crew spending a Saturday night in Whispering Bay. The whole house feels sad and gloomy.

I knock on the door, but I don’t wait for Tara to answer before slipping inside because I don’t want to give her a chance to send me away.

She’s sitting on a couch with mountains of papers all around. Her short blond hair is standing on end like she’s been running her hands through it, and her skin looks unnaturally pale. Is this what she looks like without makeup?

Her face crinkles in annoyance. “What are you doing here?”

“I come bearing muffins.” I place the container on the coffee table in front of her like a peace offering. “And to apologize. I was completely out of line. Very unprofessional of me. I promise it won’t happen again.” Paco barks to reinforce this.

“I know it won’t because I’ve decided to take The Bistro out of the competition.”

When I was six, two days before Christmas, I found an Easy Bake Oven hidden in the back of my mother’s closet. It was the only thing on my Christmas wish list. Sebastian tried to reassure me that it didn’t mean there wasn’t a Santa Claus, but I could see right through that lie. I remember feeling cheated. I feel the same way right now.

“But I brought muffins and everything.” Which sounds lame, but it’s all I’ve got.

Tara eyes the muffins. “And I appreciate that, Lucy. But it doesn’t change anything.”

She waves me to sit in a chair across from her. Paco lies down at my feet, but he stays on alert. “Want a drink? I’ve got whiskey. And whiskey.” She laughs at her own joke.

“No, thanks. Look, I know I behaved badly and there’s no excuse for losing my temper, but you can’t kick The Bistro by the Beach out of the competition. Sarah and I have only owned the place for six months, but it’s been around forever. It’s practically a Whispering Bay icon!”

“I realize that. And I want you to know it’s not personal. Yes, you were extremely unprofessional this afternoon, but that’s not why I’m taking your restaurant out of the running.”

“I don’t understand. If it’s not about my behavior this afternoon, then what’s the problem?”