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“No, no, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. But don’t I get a second chance or anything? Please?”
“Sorry, but like I told you, there’s a waiting list. You had your chance, Lucy, and you blew it.”
Chapter Five
I can’t believe I got kicked out of book club on my first night.
It’s embarrassing. Not to mention unfair. If Betty Jean knew the real reason I had to miss last night, she’d be bending over backward kissing my gluteus maximus with her apologies.
The idea that the feds are hiding a Chicago mobster in little old Whispering Bay is unbelievable. It’s the second most exciting thing that’s ever happened in this town, and I can’t tell anyone. Talk about frustrating.
I crawl out of my warm bed, pull on some clothes, then take Paco for his morning walk. It’s four-thirty and time to start making the muffins.
Sarah gets to The Bistro around five, and Jill, who works for us, shows up at six to help set up. By seven, we’re ready to go and the line to get in this morning is extra-long.
Viola Pantini and her boyfriend, Gus Pappas, are the first to arrive. Viola is President of the Gray Flamingos as well as a part-time yoga instructor. I took one of her classes for active and mature adults (she doesn’t like to use the word seniors) last week, and I’m embarrassed to say I could hardly keep up. I need to find a class more my speed—like yoga for out-of-shape millennials.
“How are you two doing this morning?” I ask.
Viola smiles cautiously. “We’re fine. The question is, how are you, Lucy?”
“Me? I’m great.”
Gus and Viola exchange a worried look.
“We heard you got kicked out of Betty Jean’s book club,” Gus says.
Oh for the love of…
I grit my teeth. “Who told you that?”
“Victor. Ran into him just now in the parking lot.”
Great. Victor Marino is in his late sixties. He’s a good customer, but he’s a member of the Sunshine Ghost Society as well as Betty Jean’s book club. If Victor is in the parking lot, that means the rest of his gang isn’t far behind. It’s like now that they’re retired they’ve all reverted back to high school and can only move in packs of three or more.
He walks through the door, followed by Phoebe Van Cleave. Even though I nabbed a serial killer right beneath her pointy nose, she still hasn’t forgiven me for suspecting her of Abby Delgado’s murder. It’s been a week now. You’d think she’d be over it.
Betty Jean comes next. She walks up to the counter, murmurs her hellos to Viola and Gus then spears me with a look I haven’t seen since the kind Mrs. Jackson used to give me back in kindergarten.
“Hello,” I say as politely as possible. “What can I get you all this morning?”
Before anyone can put in an order, a big guy with dark hair walks into The Bistro. He’s maybe in his late twenties and wearing an Armandi’s T-shirt. “Hey! I’m Mike, Rocko’s nephew,” he booms with a strong New Jersey accent. “Where do you want the goods?”
Yikes. Rocko is our delivery guy. The one who, according to the excuse I gave Betty Jean, already made a delivery last night.
“Oh! Um, you’re supposed to park in the back and go in through the kitchen.”
“Sorry, but there’s a car blocking the way. Not sure I can get the truck in, so I just parked it alongside the road.”
Sarah comes flying through the kitchen door. “I saw the delivery truck through the window,” she says to me before turning to smile at Mike. “Hello, I’m Sarah. You’re filling in for Rocko? He emailed me yesterday and said someone from the family would be taking over his route temporarily?”
“That’s me.” Mike and Sarah shake hands.
“And you are?” he asks.
“Lucy McGuffin.” Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Betty Jean smirking like she’s caught me in a lie. Which, she has.
“I thought you said your delivery person was here last night and that’s why you had to miss book club. What was it you said? Can’t make the muffins without the flour?”
