Stranger Danger (Lucy McGuffin, Psychic Amateur Detective 4)
Jill smirks. “Yesterday it was Will, and today it’s Travis. You sure do have an interesting life.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” I mutter.
Chapter Eight
Cindy, the receptionist for the Whispering Bay Police Department, is on a perpetual quest to lose the universally elusive last five pounds, but she has a weakness for my cranberry muffins, and I’m more than happy to cater to it. “These are low-fat.” I set a bag of muffins on her desk.
Her eyes go rounder than a blueberry. “Thanks!” She opens a drawer and pulls out a dog bone. “I got these just in case you ever brought Paco back for a visit.” She holds the bone in the air above Paco’s head. “Sit,” she instructs.
Paco turns to look at me as if to say, I got this. He sits.
“Good boy,” says Cindy. “Down.”
Paco goes into the down position like he’s been doing it all his life. “Now stay,” she commands.
After he “stays” for a full ten seconds, she gives him the treat. “You’ve done such a good job with him, Lucy. He’s so well trained.”
I wish I could take credit for this “training,” but I had no idea that Paco knew the down and stay command because I’ve never asked him to do it. Maybe this is something he learned from a previous owner. Or maybe … He munches on the bone with a self-satisfied look on his face. Besides the ability to sniff out dead bodies, I swear this little guy can understand human language. I’d give anything to see inside that smarty-pants brain of his, even for just a few minutes.
“I’ve been thinking of getting a dog too,” says Cindy. “So Rusty and I’ve been watching that show with the dog guy to get advice.”
“Dog guy?”
“Yeah, you know, Woofio? He’s a more modern, cool version of that Cesar guy.”
“Never heard of him. What kind of name is Woofio?”
Cindy giggles. “Don’t you get it? Woof-io? You should watch the show. He’s absolutely brilliant at getting dogs to do things they don’t want to do.”
“I don’t know. Paco is pretty perfect just the way he is.” My dog looks up at me with a pleased expression. “So, Cindy, is Travis busy?”
“I heard you two went to the big event last night.” She winks at me. “Congratulations on snagging him, by the way.”
“What? Oh, no, Travis and I aren’t—never mind. Is he in? I really need to speak to him.”
She lowers her voice. “He’s in, but he’s on a really important call at the moment. Top secret. Very hush-hush. I probably shouldn’t have said anything.”
When I don’t take the bait, she tells me anyway. “With the FBI,” she mouths silently.
Travis is on the phone with the FBI? This must be about the photo! At this very moment, he could be finding out the fake J.W.’s real identity.
“Wow. What do you think that’s about?” Even though I know exactly what that’s about.
She shrugs. “Who knows? But this isn’t his first call from that Agent Billings. She’s probably called at least three times in the past couple of weeks that I’m aware of.”
What?
At the look on my face, Cindy backtracks. “Not that there’s anything going on between them.”
A few weeks ago, the feds, under the direction of Agent Patricia Billings, ran an operation here in Whispering Bay to hide Joey “The Weasel” Frizzone from the mob. The goal was to keep Joey alive so he could testify against Chicago’s biggest Don, Vito Scarlotti. For a while, dead bodies were popping up everywhere, and it looked like Joey was about to get his lights punched out until Paco and I uncovered a notorious mob assassin, “El Tigre,” and defused the situation.
Maybe Agent Billings has been keeping Travis abreast of the case. Although the last I’d seen in the news, Joey testified, and Vito was found guilty.
Cindy looks down at the desk phone. “Oh! They’re done talking. Want me to buzz you through the door?”
“If you don’t mind, thanks.”
Paco and I make our way through the station to the conference room, where I find Travis and Zeke Grant, Whispering Bay’s chief of police, with their heads together like they’re powwowing. Zeke spots me first. “Lucy,” he says, “What can I do for you?”