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

“I’m really honored, Lucy. And I promise, I won’t tell a soul. Except … ” She frowns. “If Luke should somehow figure out something … ”

Yikes. I hadn’t thought about that. Asking Sarah to keep a secret like this from her husband is kind of a big deal. “I don’t want you to have to lie to your husband. If you ever think it’s appropriate for Luke to know, then you have my permission to tell him.”

“Thanks, Lucy.”

“One more thing. Darren Winters offered us free space on Main Street in Catfish Cove if we ever want to expand the café. I turned him down but—”

“Two restaurants?” Her shoulders droop. “I hope you told him thanks, but no thanks. At least, not for a long time.”

I grin. “That’s exactly what I said.”

Now that Sarah knows my secret, a load has been lifted from my shoulders and I can concentrate on the matter at hand: finding Tara’s killer.

I put on a fresh pot of coffee as well as refreshments (muffins of course) because I’m not about to let Heidi show me up again. Will gets here fifteen minutes early, just like I asked him to.

“Do you think this will work?” he asks. “What if everyone figures out what you’re doing?”

“You mean, what if they figure out I’m a human lie detector? Why would anyone think that? Even the people I tell don’t believe me.”

“That’s because Fontaine is an idiot.”

“Trust me. I’ve been doing this awhile. Half the time when people lie, they out themselves.”

Will raises a skeptical brow. “And you’re sure they’re coming? What exactly did you say in your text that has you convinced everyone will show up?”

“That was easy. I told them that Tara was murdered by one of the contestants on the show and that if they want to find out who it was, then they needed to come to The Bistro at precisely 3 p.m.”

“You didn’t.” Will moans. “Lucy, you shouldn’t have said that. What do you think is going to happen if none of these people were involved? This isn’t some mystery novel where the detective gathers all the suspects in one room until someone confesses and everything wraps up neat as a pin. That’s not how it works in real life.”

Before I can dispute this, the door to The Bistro opens. The three of us, Will, Paco and I, all turn to see who our first “guest” is. It’s Mark Dalton, and he doesn’t look happy to be here. “As Sherlock Holmes would say, the game is afoot,” I mutter.

“Actually,” says Will, “it was Shakespeare who said it first. Henry IV.”

“Show-off.”

Chapter Eighteen

Within five minutes, all the suspects have arrived. Besides Mark, Gilly and the other contestants, I’ve invited Juanita Torres’s two sons, Luis and Miguel. Will can scoff at my methods all he wants, but I have a pretty good feeling that this is going to work. I can’t wait to see the look on Travis’s face when I practically hand him the killer on a silver platter. The Whispering Bay police department should put me on the payroll.

Everyone sits at a large rectangular table that I’ve arranged in the middle of the café, with Paco on the floor next to my right. I make sure everyone, especially Heidi, is offered a muffin.

Mark Dalton isn’t just the first to arrive, he’s also the first to speak up. “What did you mean by sending that cryptic text? Who killed Tara?”

Like a dam that’s broken loose, everyone starts talking at once.

“What are we doing here, Lucy?”

“Are you saying one of us killed Tara?”

“What are the police doing about this?”

I raise my hand to silence them. “Order, please! Now, let’s start with—”

“This is ridiculous,” says Gilly. “Lucy should be in jail, not holding meetings in her café.”

“Why should Lucy be in jail?” Juanita looks around in confusion. “I don’t understand what’s going on.”

“Someone in this room poisoned Tara, and I can prove it.” The table goes silent. Now that I have their complete and utter attention, I drop the rest of my little bomb. “The night before Tara showed up dead, I went to see her to apologize for the spat we had earlier. I brought her a half dozen of my apple walnut cream cheese muffins.”