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

“I don’t, but”—he blows out a breath—“I don’t want us to get in trouble. I’m a city employee. I could lose my job over this. Not to mention we could get arrested.”

It’s hard to argue with that kind of logic.

“Okay, so I’ll break in. You stay in the car doing lookout.”

“That’s not such a good idea, either.”

I’m trying to figure out a way to convince Will when a car pulls up in front of the beach house. Two women laden down with buckets and mops get out. One of them uses the keypad to unlock the front door, and the two of them go inside the house.

“Looks like the cleaning crew got here a day early,” he says.

“What a lucky break.” I turn to face Paco. “You stay here with Uncle Will. I’ll be right back.”

“Lucy—”

“It’s not breaking and entering if someone with permission to be in the house lets me in. Is it?”

Will opens his mouth to say something, but I’m already out the car door.

The cleaning women make a couple of trips to their car to bring in more supplies. I hang back and wait a good fifteen minutes before I ring the doorbell, hoping to catch them in the middle of a task when they’ll be less inclined to ask too many questions.

A middle-aged woman with bright red hair answers, pulling the door far back enough that I can see into the living room and down the hallway leading to the bedrooms. “Yeah?”

“Hi! Is Gilly here?”

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“Sorry, I don’t know anyone named Gilly.”

“That’s weird. I could have sworn my friend told me she wasn’t leaving until tomorrow.”

Red turns and yells into the house. “Daisy! The place is empty, right?”

The other woman pokes her head out a bedroom door. “Looks empty to me, but I’ve only been in the one bedroom. From the looks of it, a cyclone hit this place. We’re gonna be here all day and night.”

“Great, just what I need,” Red grumbles. “This person here says that her friend isn’t leaving till tomorrow.”

“Can you check with the rental company, please?” I ask in my sweetest voice. “I was here the other night, and I left my purse. Gilly—that’s my friend, Gilly Franklin, you can check for her name on the contract—told me I could come by today and look for it.”

Red looks uncertain.

“Do you mind if I come inside while you call?” I ask.

She studies me a minute. I must seem harmless because she shrugs and says, “Sure, why not?” She pulls out her cell phone and makes the call. After a couple of minutes of conversation, she puts her phone away. “Daisy!” she calls out. “Cal got it wrong again. This place isn’t on the terminal clean list till tomorrow afternoon.” She begins putting away her equipment in disgust. “How hard is it to check these things?” she mutters.

“It’s frustrating when people don’t do their job right,” I say.

“Tell me about it.” She looks up at me. “You say you left your purse here?”

“Yeah, and now I’m driving around town without my license.”

“You could get in big trouble for that.”

“Don’t I know it. Would it be okay if I take a quick look for my purse? Please?”

“Whatever, but make it quick. We need to get going.”

“Thanks! You’re a lifesaver.”