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

Grace checks Will out. “Friend of yours?”

I introduce them to one another, then she tears a sheet off her ticket pad and hands it to me. “Wish I didn’t have to do this, but rules are rules.”

Liar. Giving me this ticket has just made Grace’s day.

“Sorry. It won’t happen again.”

She nods toward the building. “What were you doing at The Draft House? Playing pool?”

“Dropping off something for the owner,” Will says.

Paco snarls at Grace, startling her. “That’s weird. Dogs usually love me.”

“He’s special,” I say sweetly, patting Paco on the head. Good boy.

“Sorry again about the ticket,” she says, getting back in her squad car, “but you’ll know better next time, right?”

“Right.” I grit my teeth and watch as she takes off.

“Sorry about the ticket,” says Will, “but I told you I’d just be a minute. You should have kept circling the parking lot.”

“Paco had to pee. Besides, now that I know you’re New York Fats—”

Will laughs. “New York Fats?”

“Yeah, you know? The famous pool player?”

“You mean Minnesota Fats?”

“Whatever. Interesting how well they know you in there, huh?”

He shrugs uncomfortably. “I went in there on a lark. Who knew pool was such a good form of stress relief?”

I freeze.

The hairs on the back of my neck tickle. Just a bit. But enough to make me think Will has just lied to me. Which makes no sense. Why would Will lie to me about his reasons for visiting The Draft House?

I must be wrong about this. I don’t ever remember this happening before, but the only explanation I can come up with is that my Spidey sense is having an off day.

Chapter Sixteen

Two hours, two muffins (apiece) and too much coffee later, Will and I have gone through all the notes multiple times. Paco lies on the floor next to the couch in my living room, watching us intently. It’s times like this I wish he could talk because I have a feeling he has his own theory to add to this case, and I’d very much like to know what that is.

“So basically, all the contestants on the show had a reason to dislike Tara,” says Will.

“Yep.”

“Which means we’re really no better off now than before you stole these papers from her.”

“Steal is such an ugly word. Besides, how can you say that? Of course we’re better off than before.”

“How? Just because Tara planned to show every single restaurant in a bad light doesn’t give someone motive to murder her. Look at you. She kicked you off the show, but that doesn’t mean you’d kill her over it.”

Will is right. Even though these notes show that everyone had a potential beef with Tara, there’s still only one person who had something to gain from her death, as well as the opportunity to do the deed.

“Which brings us back to Gilly,” I say.

“Speaking of Gilly, what’s she going to do when she finds out those papers have been torn from her notebook?”