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

Miguel looks stunned. “Why would Tara do that?”

“To up the ratings,” I say. “The better the ratings, the more the network can charge for advertising, the more successful the show. It’s that simple.” Gilly slinks down in her chair like she’s ashamed. Which she should be. I gentle my voice. “Juanita, that night you went to see Tara and you told her that you wanted to quit the show, but she wouldn’t let you. Isn’t that right?”

“She told me I signed a contract and that she could depict me any way she wanted to. Including making it look as if I had the Alzheimer’s.”

“That witch,” Luis mutters. “If she wasn’t already dead, I’d kill her.”

“Mami, you don’t have Alzheimer’s,” Miguel says firmly.

“What about the time I ordered too many onions and not enough bell peppers? I would have never done that ten years ago. Maybe Tara was right.”

Luis shakes his head. “What about the catering order I messed up last week? I made a mistake. We all do. Miguel and I work by your side every day, and believe me, your mind is just as sharp as ever.”

Juanita looks tearfully at her sons. “It is?”

Miguel puts a protective arm around her shoulder. “Yes. It is. You run circles around Luis and I.”

Juanita wilts in relief against her sons, and the three of them melt into a group hug. At least some good has come from exposing Tara’s horrible plan.

“Juanita, did you poison Tara?”

“Of course not!”

“I believe you.” Not that I ever suspected her. Juanita is a cinnamon swirl muffin. Sweet and easily rattled, but never duplicitous.

I focus my energy on Carlos now. I’ve been dreading this all day, but unfortunately, no one gets a free pass here, no matter how much I might personally like them.

“Carlos, did you go see Tara that night too?” I ask.

He sighs like he knows what’s coming. “Yes. And yes, I told her I wanted to quit the show.”

The room goes so quiet, you could hear a pin drop.

I swallow hard. “She was going to expose your gambling habit, wasn’t she?”

“I haven’t gambled in years, but it’s still a daily struggle.” He looks around the table. “Ten years ago, I had to declare bankruptcy. My life was in shambles because I couldn’t stay away from the horses. But then I found Gamblers Anonymous. I got married, had a couple of kids and worked my way up to manager at The Burger Barn. The owners know about my disease, and they’ve been terrific.”

“Then what was the problem?” asks Heidi.

“The problem,” I say, “is that Tara was going to create a story line in which Carlos was accused of embezzling money from the restaurant because he’d started gambling again. In the end it would come out that there was no missing money and he would have been exonerated, but the damage to his reputation would be done.”

Everyone turns to glare at Gilly. “I never liked that story line,” she says, trying to defend herself. “I tried to dissuade Tara from it. I really did.”

“Not hard enough,” accuses Carlos.

“Carlos, did you poison Tara?” I ask.

“I wish I had, but no. I didn’t.”

“Good enough for me.”

Two down, four to go.

I look down the table to catch Heidi’s gaze. “What?” she asks in a bristly tone.

“You also went to see Tara that night, didn’t you?”

“I think it’s silly to have a show where we all compete against one another.”