Stranger Danger (Lucy McGuffin, Psychic Amateur Detective 4)

Ugh. I wish I could take a much-needed walk around the block, but I can’t leave until the cops okay it. Paco nudges my leg with his nose. He has his I need to do my business look.

“You want some privacy?”

He barks once, which we’ve pretty much established means yes.

I walk him over by the side of the house near a row of hibiscus bushes. It’s dark now, so the motion detector lights come on. A lizard pops its head out of a gutter. Paco goes after him, but of course, the lizard retreats inside. He repeats this jack-in-the-box routine, popping his head in and out, then scurrying back into the pipe. Paco totally falls for it, whining and pawing at the gutter. For th

e world’s smartest dog, he sure can be dumb sometimes.

“Paco, leave that lizard alone.” Still, I let this continue for a few minutes because everyone deserves a guilty pleasure now and then. “Okay, that’s enough. Let’s—” Something shiny catches my eye. I bend over and scoop it up from the grass.

It’s an earring. A big one. Betty Jean must have lost it while gardening. An image of Betty Jean all decked out in her Farrah Fawcett wig and these earrings makes me smile. I slip the earring into the pocket of my jeans.

“There you are. I’ve been looking for you.”

I jump at the sound of Travis’s voice. I must be more spooked than I realized. “I was just taking Paco for a walk. Is it okay if I go now?” Because I really need to talk to Will and find out where he’s been all day.

“Do you mind if we do one more walk through the house?”

I reenact everything, starting with finding the note taped to the back door, walking through the kitchen, and then finally into the living room. They’ve taken Jefferson Pike’s body out of the house. Bloodstains mar the chair and the carpet, making it look like a set right out of a slasher film. I really hope those stains come out.

“Where’s Betty Jean?” I ask. “Still outside with Rusty?”

“I believe so.”

“The knife? Did it come from her kitchen?”

“Looks that way,” says Travis. “There’s no defense wounds on Pike’s body, and from the way his body was found lying on the chair, it looks like whoever did this took him completely by surprise. He might have even been asleep when he was stabbed.”

I turn to stare at him. I’m pretty sure my jaw must be on the floor.

“What?” he says.

“I can’t believe you just told me all that. Don’t you remember our first murder investigation?” I deepen my voice to imitate him. “Sorry, ma’am, I can’t answer those kinds of questions.”

“I guess I was kind of a jerk, huh?”

“Just a little.”

We smile, then we remember where we are and what we’re doing, and the mood turns somber. My bladder takes a moment to remind me of something else as well. “Do you mind if I go to the bathroom? I promise not to touch anything.”

“Sure,” says Travis. “The rooms have all been cleared.”

I head down the hallway and open the first door on the right, but it’s not the bathroom. A pair of walking shoes is arranged neatly in front of a closet door. I recognize them. They’re Betty Jean’s. This must be her bedroom. And like the rest of the house, it’s obsessively tidy.

Except one thing. The bed is unmade, and the sheets are rumpled.

An image so disturbing pops into my head that I have to immediately block it out, otherwise my brain might explode.

Betty Jean and Jefferson Pike? No! But then … why not? She’s only about fifteen years older than him, and she’s been looking mighty sassy lately. I always thought her aggressive cougar routine was just that—a routine. Clearly, I’ve been naïve.

After I finish up in the bathroom, Travis secures the house. The barricades have been taken down and the crowds are mostly gone. So is Heidi and her impromptu “coffee stand.”

Rusty tells Travis that he needs to call the police station ASAP. “I’ll be right back after I take this call,” he tells me.

Betty Jean finishes up a conversation with one of the crime scene guys, then turns to look at her house with a bleak expression. Not that I blame her. The yellow crime tape plastered over her front door serves as a not-so-subtle reminder of what happened here this evening.

“They said I can come back tomorrow afternoon,” she says.