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

Chapter Five

Travis is on a date.

A part of me feels betrayed, but that’s silly. I’ve given him no encouragement, so why shouldn’t he take someone else out? As a matter of fact, good for him.

I try to slink my way to the front of the restaurant, but as luck would have it, he glances over, and we lock gazes. Now that he’s spotted me, I can’t very well pretend I haven’t seen him. He waves me over.

Did I comb my hair when I got up from my nap this evening? It’s probably sticking up at all angles. Not to mention those ba

gs under my eyes. Oh well. He’s seen me looking worse.

I trudge toward his booth.

“Hello, Lucy.” Those simple words send a tingle up my spine. Travis is from Texas, and his voice has just enough twang to make it sexy. He isn’t as classically good-looking as Will, but he does have a certain … something. Plus, I’m a sucker for green eyes, so he has that going on too.

“Hello, there!” I say, trying to sound upbeat.

Travis introduces the blonde as Grace Cullen. Late twenties, blue eyes, very fit. She smiles up at me, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. She’s definitely a low-calorie whole wheat and fiber muffin, although I doubt she’s been anywhere near a carb in her life.

“McGuffin? Where have I heard that name before? Please join us.” She scooches over in the booth to make room for me.

“No thanks, I just came to pick up takeout.”

Travis points to the empty spot. “Sit down, Lucy.” It feels more like an order than a request. Just on principle I should refuse, but I admit, I’m curious about this Grace person.

“Oh … all right.”

He looks mildly surprised that I didn’t put up a fight.

Grace snaps her fingers. “I know where I’ve heard your name. You’re the one who captured El Tigre.”

“Grace is a fellow cop,” explains Travis. “She works for the Panama City force.”

“I’m so impressed,” she gushes, a little too over the top. “Tell me, how did you do it?”

Travis leans forward in his seat. This is a question he’s asked me a few times, but so far I’ve managed to dodge the truth bullet.

“Just lucky, I guess. Plus, I have Paco. That’s my dog. He’s kind of my sidekick.”

“So the two of you are like Batman and Robin?” she asks.

Oh, Grace, your snark is beginning to show.

“Something like that.”

Travis’s reaction to this is completely unreadable. Which is … irritating, as well as strange. When we first met, I remember thinking he was one of the easiest people to read. When did that change?

Last week when we were in the thick of the El Tigre investigation, I broke down and told Travis that Paco was a ghost whisperer. Only he doesn’t believe it. He does, however, think that Paco is some sort of highly trained cadaver dog, which is hilarious because how many chihuahuas get trained in special ops? I don’t know anything about Paco’s first owner, but Travis is determined to find a logical explanation for the whole thing.

If Travis, who admits that Paco has special skills, won’t open his mind to the possibility of my dog seeing ghosts, then what would he say if I told him I was a human lie detector? Nope. I think I’ll keep that little secret to myself, thank you.

Grace frowns. “So you’ve never been trained in any sort of detective work?”

“The only thing I’ve been trained in is how to work my way around the kitchen.”

“Lucy’s café is part of a national TV competition about to start here in town,” says Travis. “The Bistro by the Beach? Ever heard of it?”

Grace nods enthusiastically. “As a matter of fact, I have. I hear they make really scrumptious muffins. Wait. Don’t tell me that’s you? You fight crime and make those delicious muffins everyone’s always raving about?”