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“What were you thinking?”

“I thought that I’d offer my condolences.”

“So why lie to him and tell him you were from a law firm?”

“That was an accident.”

“I bet.”

“No, really, he just assumed that I was from the firm.”

“And you didn’t clear it up.” It’s a statement, but he wants to know the reason behind my actions.

The oven timer goes off. Talk about being saved by the bell.

“Hold on.” I run back to the kitchen to pull the muffins out of the oven. When I turn around, Travis is standing in the doorway, which is a little offsetting. This kitchen is my private place, at least, at night it is. Even though it’s a good sized room, he makes it seem small. And warm. Must be the heat from the oven.

“Do you always bake this late at night?”

“It’s a new recipe I’m trying out for Muffin Wars.”

He raises an amused brow.

“Get your mind out of the gutter. It’s a television baking competition on the Cooking Channel. I sent in an audition tape, and I’m waiting to hear back.”

“Whatever that is, it smells good.”

“Too bad you don’t like muffins, or I’d let you try one.”

He leans back against the counter and watches as I putter around the kitchen. Paco raises his nose in the air and sniffs appreciatively.

“You,” I say to Paco, “Can have whatever you want.” He pants in anticipation.

“Weird. It’s like he can understand you,” Travis says.

Exactly. I mentally debate whether or not to tell him about the dog. Travis is a cop, and for whatever reason, Zeke seems to think highly of him. Maybe if I share everything I know he’ll lay off Sebastian.

“Lanie Miller came to see me. The dog’s real name is Cornelius.” I tell him all about Paco’s famous persona and how I think Phoebe Van Cleave is somehow involved too.

“A canine ghost whisperer?” he says incredulously.

“Susan Van Dyke might have willed the dog to Abby after her death. But it doesn’t explain why Abby told me the dog’s name was Paco. Or why she told me he belonged to her brother.” Or why the brother lied to me about it. But I can’t tell him this last part without revealing my gift.

“Maybe Abby changed the dog’s name. A lot of people do that. As for the lie about the brother owning the dog, I have no clue. Unless…”

“Unless the dog wasn’t willed to her and maybe she stole him?” I finish.

“Could be.”

“I’m taking the dog back to the family tomorrow. I guess I’ll find out the truth then.”

He glances at the muffins. “Is that coconut?”

“Mango coconut. But I haven’t worked out all the kinks in the recipe yet.”

I touch the top of a muffin, and it doesn’t feel so hot anymore. Gingerly, I ease one out of the tin then cut it in half, let it cool off a bit, and offer it to Paco, who wolfs it down in two gulps.

“Looks like Cornelius approves.”

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