A Bad Day for Sunshine (Sunshine Vicram #1)(23)

As Sun stepped out, her mother’s eaglelike vision locked on to the bandages on her hands.

“What happened?” she fairly screeched, almost spilling the wine. Thankfully, the woman had catlike reflexes when it came to alcoholic beverages. She took one of Sun’s hands into her own to inspect it.

“You don’t want to know.”

“Of course, I do.”

“A car crashed through the front of the station, showering me with glass before it ran me over.”

Her mother’s pretty mouth pinched up at the corners. “Fine, don’t tell me.” She saw Quincy and brightened.

He walked around and gave her a hug as the other women streamed out of the house to greet them, heedless of the chill in the air. And they’d clearly had wine with breakfast.

Sun got a hug from each of the women present. And all but one had a glass of wine in her hand. Wanda didn’t have a glass. She had an entire bottle, and she sloshed the liquid on Quincy’s uniform when she did everything but wrap her legs around him during their hug.

Oh yeah, this was going to be great.


Sun let Quincy field questions while she followed one Mrs. Ruby Moore, the muffin maker, to the kitchen to grab a few. She wasn’t sure how well muffins went with wine, but at least the women would have something in their stomachs other than fermented grapes.

“Oh, sweetheart,” the woman said when she noticed Sun behind her. “We’re so excited you’re back. Your mother is over the moon.”

“I’m glad,” she said, trying to think of how to word her inquiry.

The woman, a stout sixtysomething, didn’t miss a step as she went about her business.

“Is Myrtle going to be okay?” Sun asked.

When they’d walked into the house, they’d found an elderly woman asleep on the couch, a half-drunk glass of wine dangerously close to tipping over in her hand. Sun remembered her. She’d worked for her doctor for years.

“Oh, she’ll be fine,” Ruby said with a dismissive wave. “She’s drinking grape juice. She always passes out either way. No need to waste the good stuff.”

Sun laughed softly. “I wanted to thank you for the muffins you sent to the station.”

“Oh, pfft,” she pffted. “I love making them. I always wanted to open my own muffin shop and call it Moore Muffins. It’s a nice play on words, don’t you think?”

“I do. And you certainly have the talent.” She gestured toward the warm muffins Ruby was loading onto a tray along with her signature sauce, a sugary butter glaze. Sun’s mouth watered just thinking about it. “Why didn’t you?”

“Well, you know Theodore,” she said as if that explained it.

She didn’t know Theodore, not really, but she wasn’t going to tell Ruby that. “Can I ask you something?”

Ruby stopped what she was doing and turned to her. “Of course, sweetheart.”

Sun cleared her throat, suddenly uncomfortable, then just came out with it. “Are you psychic?”

The woman’s expression didn’t waver. In fact, if Sun didn’t know better, she’d have sworn Ruby purposely froze her face to hide what was going on behind it.

After a moment, she blinked and went back to her muffins with a soft laugh. “You kids. Always joking around.”

Okay. She’d bite. “Then how come every time you send a basket of muffins to the station, all hell breaks loose? Or so I’m told.”

“I don’t know what you mean. I just made too many muffins and decided to share.”

If there was one thing Sun had learned first as a police officer and then a detective, it was when to keep her mouth shut. And that’s what she did. She leveled a patient smile on the poor woman and waited.

It didn’t take long.

“You can’t tell Theodore,” she said in a hushed voice that startled Sun.

“Ruby, are you safe? Will he hurt you?”

She snorted. “Theo? Oh, good heavens, no. I just . . . well, I promised . . . I mean, he doesn’t know . . .”

“That you’re psychic?”

She shook her head. “No. He knows that part. He just doesn’t know that I use my powers for good. He thinks I gave it all up years ago after this thing with a rattlesnake and a lasagna. It’s a long story. Anyway, he doesn’t know I still practice.”

Sun nodded, almost understanding. She blamed the town. Peculiar things and all.

“You’re not going to tell him, are you?” Ruby asked.

“I wouldn’t do that.”

Ruby rested a grateful hand on her arm. “Do the others know?”

“You mean everyone at the station? Let’s just say your muffins have become legendary.”

“Oh, well, that’s good. I guess.” She picked up the tray and walked into the living room.

“It’s about time,” Wanda said to her, eyeing the muffins. “We’re starving.”

“The jig’s up, guys.”

“Already? We just got here.”

Ruby put the tray on the coffee table. “No, I mean, she knows.”

But Sun’s interest rocketed to her mom’s best friend, Darlene Tapia. Because when Ruby made the announcement about the jig being up, all expressions morphed into one of mass confusion. All except Darlene’s. Darlene went white, and as a gorgeous Latina with sable hair and bronze skin, white was not her best color.