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“Are you going to sweep the place for fingerprints?” I ask one of them. His tag says G. Cooper, Crime Scene Investigation. “Because if you do, mine will definitely be there. Maybe you should go ahead and fingerprint me. That way you can compare the prints on the door to mine and rule those out.”
G. Cooper looks confused like he’s not sure whether to take my advice.
“Miss McGuffin,” says Officer Fontaine, “I have to insist that you leave now.”
“But—”
“Please, leave this to the professionals.”
Boy, this guy sure could use a course in community relations. He’s absolutely nothing like his father. And to think, I thought he and I were going to be friends. Ha!
I make my way back to the food pavilion. A sad hush has descended over the festivities. News of Abby’s death has spread, and no one feels like celebrating anything, but the adults continue for the sake of the kiddies.
Paco has stopped his shaking. I let him down on a patch of grass so he can do his business. When I get back to our booth, Sarah has already cleaned everything up, and she and her husband Luke are loading up the back of the van.
Brittany is still hanging around, probably because of Will. “They’re about to announce the winner of the costume contest!” she says.
Funny. Less than an hour ago she’d been so distraught she’d “fainted.” Brittany’s ability to bounce back from tragedy is impressive.
“May I have your attention!” Gus’s voice booms over the loudspeaker system. “First, I want to thank everyone who came out in costume today. Good job, Whispering Bay! It was a tough competition, but there was one person who stood out for their originality. The votes are in, and the winner of the best sixties beach costume is Brittany Kelly!”
Brittany looks aro
und in shock. “Me? Did he say me? Oh my God!” She runs toward the stage in her four-inch heels where Gus is waiting for her with a smile and a trophy. Not to mention her hundred-dollar check, which should keep Brittany in lip gloss for about a month.
“Thank you!” she gushes into the mic. “I’m so humbled and proud that y’all have chosen me as the winner!” Images of high school and Brittany’s victory prom night speech come flashing back. I swear, I think she used those exact same words then too. It’s probably her standard speech. Besides prom queen, Brittany was also Miss Seashell, Miss Walton County and last but not least, Miss Cheese Grits (although since her daddy’s restaurant held the contest, I’m sure that was rigged).
“Y'all are too kind, but I simply can’t accept this check.” Her southern accent rises a couple of notches the way it always does whenever she’s doing any public speaking. “Not when there are so many people who need it more than I do. So, if it’s all right with y’all, I’d like to donate it to the food pantry at St. Perpetua’s which does such a wonderful job of feeding the hungry.”
Everyone claps wildly, and Roger Van Cleave takes her picture for the paper.
I’m not disappointed. I’m really not. Because if I’d won, I’d have to go up on stage in front of everyone and right now, I probably look a mess. Plus, whatever her motives, it was nice of Brittany to donate the money.
Will stares at Brittany with a dreamy look on his face.
“Earth to Cunningham,” I say.
He shakes his dark head. “Sorry. I was just—”
“Admit it. You like her.”
“I know she made your life miserable, Luce, but that was in high school. She’s not a bad person. The thing is… I want to ask her out, but not if it’s going to come between us.”
I still. “Why would it come between us?” Then I laugh, and it sounds fake, but what can I do? “Ask her out! If you like her, then I like her.”
The relief on his face makes me want to cry. Will has no skills when it comes to detecting deception. Either that, or he just doesn’t want to see it, because this is probably the biggest lie I’ve ever told.
Paco nudges me with his nose like he wants attention. I’d forgotten I was still holding him.
“What are you going to do with the dog?” Will asks.
“I hate to hand him over to the animal shelter. I know they’ll take good care of him until Abby’s brother gets back, but he’s been through a hard day.”
“I’ll take him,” Will offers. “Since you’re allergic.”
This is really nice of Will, but I feel a strange kinship with this little dog, and despite my allergy, I’m just not ready to give him up yet.
“One night with him isn’t going to kill me.” I glance around the crowd. “Have you seen Sebastian?”
