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

Travis snaps his file shut. “What did you promise me last night at your parents’ house?”

“What? You mean about not sticking my nose into the investigation? But that was—”

“Lucy, let the police handle this.”

“Am I supposed to keep chanting that all the way up to when they give me the lethal injection?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. No one is accusing you of anything.”

“Not yet, maybe. The thing is … I could help you. If you let me.”

“What can you do that trained members of the police force can’t?”

Oh, buddy, you’d be surprised.

“For one, I can keep my eyes and ears open. Do you know how many people come into my café on a daily basis? You’d be shocked at all the stuff I hear when I’m behind the counter and no one thinks I’m listening. Maybe I’ll pick up something important. If I know what to listen for.”

“Thanks, but no thanks.”

I decide to tackle this from another angle. “How do the police think Tara ended up on my kitchen floor? You owe me that, at least.”

“I’m afraid I can’t—”

“Can you imagine how it feels to know I was upstairs in my apartment watching TV and eating a hamburger when that poor woman was downstairs in my kitchen, dying? I could have helped her if I’d only known.”

He sighs. “There’s nothing you could have done, Lucy.”

“How do you know?”

“We have a witness that says she saw Tara’s car leave the beach house at two in the morning—a nurse on her way home after working a late shift. She reported it because Tara was driving erratically and she thought it was a drunk driver. The cop on duty drove around town but never saw Tara’s car. He didn’t think to look in your parking lot. And why would he? We don’t know why Tara drove to The Bistro that night. Maybe, like you said, she needed your help. She might have knocked on the kitchen doo

r. Who knows? The door was unlocked. She walked inside … ” He shrugs. “The coroner puts the time of death between 2 and 3 a.m. Most likely, she collapsed and was dead on the floor within minutes after arriving.”

I shudder. “What a horrible way to die.”

“Like I said, there’s nothing you could have done, Lucy.”

Even as he says it, I know that’s not completely true.

“I just remembered something. I fell asleep on my living room couch, but sometime in the middle of the night, Paco began barking. I thought it was a dream, but now I realize he must have heard Tara downstairs. I should have gone down to investigate, but I was just so tired. I must have fallen back asleep.” I cover my face with my hands and groan. “How could I have been so careless?”

“Lucy,” he says quietly, “did you lace those muffins with cyanide? Did you want to hurt Tara? Did you want to kill her?”

My head shoots up. “What do you think?”

“Exactly. You’re no more responsible for Tara’s death than I am. You were exhausted. With the schedule you’ve been keeping, I’d be surprised if a fire alarm would have woken you up.”

I know Travis means well, but I still feel incredibly guilty. If only I hadn’t fallen asleep so hard. Or paid more attention to Paco’s barking. Maybe I could have found her in time. Tara wasn’t a nice person, but she was a person, and no one deserves to die the way she did.

I have to help solve her death. It’s the only way I can make amends.

If only Travis would let me help him …

Jim is right. If I want Travis to take me seriously, then I’m going to have to tell him the truth about me.

I take a deep breath.

“I have something to tell you. Something big.”