Murder By Muffin (Lucy McGuffin, Psychic Amateur Detective 3)
Page 47
Will scratches his chin. “I thought you said he didn’t know who killed Tara.”
“No, he never answered my question directly. He’s sneaky all right.”
“Okay, so what’s his motive? Tara was threatening to tell his wife?”
“Maybe. Or maybe he and Tara got in a lover’s quarrel and she threatened to kick him off the show. Tara was good at making threats. There could be any number of motives now that we know they were involved.”
“This is getting stickier by the minute,” Will says.
“I know. But we have to keep going. Who’s next on the list?”
“That would be Juanita Torres at La Cantina.” Will pats his stomach and moans. “I’ve had a muffin, cinnamon pancakes, and an order of avocado toast. I hope you don’t expect me to eat again.”
“It’s almost noon. We could do chips and salsa. And margaritas. That’s not really like eating.”
We drive over to La Cantina, where Juanita’s son Luis seats us in the outdoor patio. A life-size rainbow-colored donkey pinata stands in the corner, serving as décor. Paco circles it with an intensity that makes me giggle. It’s like he’s trying to figure out a way to get to the candy inside. Luis chuckles as he takes our orders.
“How’s your mom?” I ask. “Is she around?”
“Today is Mami’s day off. Every Tuesday she gets her hair done.”
“So she won’t be here today at all?”
“Nope.”
Something in Luis’s tone makes me look at him again. He looks a bit too … happy. I remember all the rumors I’ve heard about Juanita micromanaging her restaurant and the way she and her sons interacted during the meeting. Things at La Cantina are definitely not simpatico.
“It’s a bummer about the show, huh?” I say to Luis.
“Tell me about it.” He points overhead to a row of brightly colored streamers crisscrossing the ceiling. “See all that? Miguel and I spent an entire Sunday putting that up for the filming.”
“Looks nice.”
“I guess so.”
“Not your style?”
He makes a pained face. “I really shouldn’t say, but … yeah, not my style at all.” He shrugs. “Easy come, easy go, I guess.”
He leaves to get our order.
“Well?” says Will. “Anything?”
“Not really,” I say gloomily. “Luis is genuinely bummed about the show being canceled.”
We eat a basket of chips and guzzle down our margaritas while Paco barks at the birds. We pay the bill and get back in the car.
Will takes out the list. “Where to next?”
“Honestly? I don’t think I can take any more food right now.”
“Well, that’s a first.”
I decide to ignore that. “I was thinking, at this rate, we know that Heidi lied about maybe wanting off the show and that Mark Dalton and Tara were having an affair. All good stuff but you were right before—we need hard evidence of a motive.”
“Then you agree we need to leave this to the cops?”
“Where did you get that idea?”