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

He smiles indulgently. “Brittany is the talented one. I’ve learned a lot from her these past couple of days.”

The hair on my neck goes rigid. Huh. I hadn’t pegged Darren as disingenuous. I suppose he can’t help but experience some professional jealousy. Even though it looks like Battle of the Beach Eats isn’t going to be filmed here in Whispering Bay after all, Brittany’s job must seem like a piece of cake compared with the mess he’s dealing with in Catfish Cove.

Brittany pulls out her cellphone and shows me a few of the taglines she and Darren have worked on. Her gaze flits over to the paper with my list of suspects. Before I can stop her, she picks it up.

“What’s this?” She quickly reads off the names. “Lucy, is this what I think it is?”

“Well … ”

Brittany’s face lights up. “You’re not taste-testing recipes! You’re going to investigate Tara’s murder, aren’t you?” She turns to Darren. “Lucy is the most amazing detective. She’s already solved like a bazillion crimes that baffled both the police and the FBI.”

“Really?” Darren looks impressed.

“Well, not a bazillion exactly,” I say, trying to sound modest. “And Brittany, can you keep this on the down low? If Travis finds out, he won’t be happy.”

Recognition settles over Darren’s face. “You’re the one who caught El Tigre. I should have put it together sooner, but I’m afraid that whole episode coincided with the pipe burst, so I wasn’t paying much attention to the news.”

“Understandable.”

Darren looks like he’s about to say something else when Brittany stands up. “Sorry to run, but we have a meeting in thirty minutes with a graphic designer.”

Darren thanks me for the muffins and coffee.

“Best of luck with your secret project!” Brittany calls on her way out the door as if catching Tara’s murderer will be the easiest thing in the world.

Once they’re gone, I tidy up. I’m about to close the front door when Paco comes trotting down the stairs with his leash in his mouth and a determined gleam in his eyes.

“Looks like someone wants to go on a walk,” says Will.

Paco shakes his head from side to side.

Will laughs. “Did you see that?”

“Yep.” I narrow my eyes at my too-smart-for-his-own-good dog. “I suppose you think we should take you along, huh?”

He barks, momentarily dropping the leash, then quickly picks it back up again.

Will looks stunned. “Do you think he knows what we’re doing?”

“I have no idea. But I think we should take him along. Just in case.” I bend down and look Paco in the eye. “What do you say, boy? Want to help Mommy find a killer?”

Chapter Twelve

First, we start with Gilly. Not only did she have opportunity, she might have had the most to gain from Tara’s death, which makes her suspect numero uno in my book. We drive to the beach house, and the three of us march up to the front door.

I ring the bell and wait.

“It’s barely eight,” says Will. “Maybe they’re all still asleep.”

“Good. We want to catch Gilly unaware. That way she’ll be more susceptible to letting something slip.”

Will looks at me sideways.

“That’s how they do it in the movies and on America’s Most Vicious Criminals. They always arrest people at the crack of dawn. Not only are they more likely to be at home, you’re most vulnerable when you’re in your pajamas and before you’ve had your first cup of coffee. Watch the reruns if you don’t believe me.”

I ring the bell again.

“One more thing,” says Will. “Am I good cop or bad cop?”