Dead and Deader (Lucy McGuffin, Psychic Amateur Detective Book 7) by Maggie March

Author:Maggie March [March, Maggie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Chihuahua Publishing
Published: 2021-10-05T16:00:00+00:00

I try to think of a reason to casually drop by Julian’s and point-blank ask him if he was inside Frank’s house the other morning. But Will is right. I can’t go around accusing people willy-nilly. I need evidence to back up my claims.

Paco and I head back to The Bistro to see how things are going. It’s mid-morning, the time between breakfast and lunch, and we’re absolutely packed, so despite Sarah’s objections, I put on my apron to man the front counter.

“You’re supposed to be on vacation,” she scolds.

“I don’t mind. Besides, this is crazy.” I nod toward the line of customers waiting to order. “Is there a festival in town this weekend that I don’t know about?”

“None that I’m aware of.” Sarah lowers her voice. “I think this is fallout from the review on Heidi’s Bakery.”

“I was in there yesterday, and it was like a ghost town. I can’t believe people put so much credence in a review.”

Betty Jean comes up behind me to grab a fresh pot of coffee off the warmer. “It’s not just any review,” she says, “it’s the Fussy Foodie.”

Ack! I’m so tired of hearing that name.

I spend the next fifteen minutes taking orders. I guess I should be grateful that my own café is doing so well, but I don’t like that it’s at the expense of another person’s business. The door to the café opens, and in walk my parents. Paco runs to greet them. Dad pats him on the head, but Mom barely pays him any attention. Usually, she makes a big fuss over my dog. And that’s not the only thing out of whack. Every Saturday morning, she takes a yoga class for active and fit adults (code for seniors). But instead of yoga pants and sneakers, she’s wearing a dark black pantsuit and sunglasses like she’s channeling Jackie Onassis.

“Hey, Mom. Hey, Dad!” I say cheerfully because I want to keep their spirits up even though things look glum for Mom.

“Lucy, keep your voice down,” Mom hisses. “I don’t want anyone to recognize me.”

Dad gives me a look that says, don’t ask.

“Um, sure. What would you like?”

Dad orders for both of them. I put their order into the computer, and since the midmorning rush is currently contained, I follow them to a table in the back of the café. Mom furtively glances around the room like she’s expecting the paparazzi to jump out from behind the potted plants. She slowly pulls off her sunglasses. My heart sinks a little when I see that her eyes are red from crying.

“Oh, Mom, are you okay? I know Frank’s death is hitting you hard, but it wasn’t your fault.” I’d love nothing more than to tell them Frank was murdered, but until I have solid proof, I don’t want to get her hopes up. “Have you been crying because of Ronald Milhouse? Did he threaten to sue you?”

“Not yet, but I’m expecting to be served papers any second now.” She looks at Dad. “Should I tell Lucy, or do you want to tell her?”

“Tell me what?”

Dad shrugs.

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