Whack The Mole (Lucy McGuffin, Psychic Amateur Detective 2)

We lock gazes for a few seconds before it becomes too awkward and we break away.

“How were you able to lend me so much money to begin with?” I ask. “You can’t be that great a saver.”

“We’ve been through this before. One of my aunts left me some money after she passed away.”

Before Will lent me the money for my share of the down payment on The Bistro I’d never even heard of this mysterious aunt.

I take a deep breath and focus on relaxing every inch of my body in hopes that I’ll get some sort of reaction. But there’s none. No tingling of the little hairs. No Spidey sense screaming at me. Nada. Is Will telling the truth? I truly can’t tell. This is one of the many times I wish my gift worked on him. Of all the people in the world to be immune to my inner lie detector, why him?

“I still need to pay you back. And nothing you can say will change my mind about that. But catching El Tigre isn’t just about getting on the Cooking Channel and winning the show. This is personal. It’s about taking back my town. This guy stuck a dead body in my dumpster. You think I’m going to let him get away with that?”

Will gets up and paces around the living room, then turns to look at me. “I’m going to regret this, but, okay. I don’t know what you think it is I can do, but I’ll help. On one condition.”

“Really? Yes, anything!”

“You have to tell Travis what you’re

doing and how you’re doing it. Otherwise, I’m out.”

“You mean…you want me to tell Travis that I’m a human lie detector? He isn’t going to believe me.”

“Not at first. So you’ll have to prove it to him.”

“But—”

“That’s the only way I’m going to help you, Lucy. Because if something goes wrong with your plan, we’re going to need the cops to get us out of whatever mess it is you’ve got cooked up.”

Chapter Fifteen

Will thinks he’s so clever. He’s counting that I won’t tell Travis about my gift. And he would be right because I don’t share that part of myself with anyone. The only reason I told Jim Fontaine was because I sensed I could trust him and I needed his advice.

But anyone else? Nah. Not even Sarah, who I consider to be one of my best friends, knows that sniffing out lies is built into my DNA. The last thing I want is for anyone to constantly worry about what they say around me because let’s face it, lies are an everyday occurrence. Without them, life would be difficult.

Take the other day at the dentist. When Margie, my long-time hygienist, asked me if I was still flossing twice a day, of course, I said, “Yes!” Margie and I both know that’s a lie, but if I told her the truth, then she’d be obligated to give me the floss-twice-a-day speech and nobody has time for that.

Another reason I don’t tell anyone about my lie detecting skills is because the last thing I want to do is stand out in a not-so-good way. I’m already not your typical twenty-six-year-old. I get up at four-thirty every morning to make muffins which means that by eight p.m. I’m passed out drooling in my bed (except for Friday nights when I stay up late to watch America’s Most Vicious Criminals). My favorite shoes are converse sneakers. I’ve never had a serious boyfriend. And my dog sees ghosts.

None of which makes for a catchy Match.com profile.

Nope. I think I’ll just keep my little secret to myself, thank you very much.

Will might think he has the upper hand here, but he’s sadly mistaken if he assumes I’m just going to lay down and let El Tigre ruin my town. No sirree. For once, Brittany and I are on the same page. I need to prove to the Cooking Channel that Whispering Bay is the perfect location for their next season of Battle of the Beach Eats.

Will is right about something though. Running off to investigate this on my own could be dangerous. My lesson with the frying pan taught me that. But there’s also a sense of urgency here. I can’t just sit back and wait for El Tigre to show up at The Bistro again to leave his trademark piece of evidence. Who knows how many more hitmen he’ll kill before then? The streets of Whispering Bay could be lined with dead bodies.

I definitely need to be on the offensive here, and that begins with doing a reconnaissance of the safe house where they’ve stashed Joey. What I might discover, I don’t know, but I need to do something.

I park my car far enough away from the neighborhood entrance that it can’t be seen from any of the streets. With my new binoculars around my neck, Paco and I creep around the back entrance to the cul-de-sac. Or rather, I creep, while he marks every tree and shrub he can find. Men.

Since its Sunday, children are riding their bikes along the sidewalk and adults are doing yard work. We’re just a couple of weeks away from Thanksgiving, so pumpkins are everywhere. Luckily, the cul-de-sac seems quieter than the rest of the neighborhood. There’s a man a few houses down from the safe house mowing the yard, but other than that there’s no other activity.

I wonder if Agent Billings is keeping watch through a window. Knowing her she’s probably got security cameras in place. I pull my baseball cap down over my forehead. As long as Paco and I keep behind the bushes, we should be okay. I offer him a liver treat from my pocket. He greedily gobbles it down.

“There’s more where that came from,” I whisper. “Be quiet and stay out of sight and you’ll get one every fifteen minutes.”

His eyes go bright with anticipation.

I hesitated to bring him along on this mission, but he’s so smart. Besides, we’re a team. If it weren’t for Paco, I’d be swimming with the fishes already.