Christmas Cookie Murder. Leslie Meier

dabbed at her eyes, which were filling with tears.

      “Most of all, you’ve been good examples. You don’t drink and drive, and your kids would never dream of doing it. Oh, no. You’ve spoken with them and told them that if they need a ride home, they should call you. No matter what the time. You’ll get them, no questions asked. Right?”

      A few heads around the room nodded, including Lucy’s. She and Bill had had that very talk with Toby just a few weeks ago.

      “Well, you know what?” demanded Andrea, who was shaking with rage and shame. “I am a good mother. I’ve done all those things. And my son was arrested. The lawyer tells me he’ll have a criminal record for the rest of his life. So don’t be so sure it can’t happen to you.”

      Stunned, the women were silent, staring at Andrea, who was wiping tears from her face. Nobody seemed to know what to say. Realizing she had a social disaster on her hands, Lucy hurried to Andrea, proffering a napkin printed with holly. She gave her a little hug and turned to face the group.

      “Come on, everybody. It’s time to swap those cookies. Remember, you can only take a half dozen of each kind. Okay?”

      The women picked up the empty baskets and cookie tins they had brought and formed a loose line that wrapped around the table. Only Andrea remained in the living room, being consoled by Tucker.

      “Have you ever seen anything like this?” cooed Juanita. “The cookies this year are better than ever.”

      “They’re absolutely wonderful,” agreed Pam.

      “I don’t know how I’m going to keep them hidden until Christmas Eve,” confessed Lucy. From upstairs, she thought she heard the sound of the toilet flushing. Then she remembered Toby, hurrying upstairs with an especially purposeful expression. She held her breath, willing the aged pipes to cooperate, just this once.

      “We have ours on Christmas Day with hot cocoa,” said Pam, counting six Chinese noodle cookies into a sandwich bag.

      “I take mine to my folks’ house,” said Lee. “We always have Christmas with them.”

      Lucy reached across the table to take some of Tucker’s cookies when she felt a drop of water on her hand. She looked up and, horrified, saw the dining-room ceiling beginning to sag, the plaster bulging with water.

      “I felt a drop,” said Lee. “Lucy, I think you have a leak…”

      Lucy was standing openmouthed, transfixed by the sight of the bulging plaster bubble growing even larger.

      “Quick! Pick up the table!” ordered Sue, taking in the situation. “We can carry it…”

      The women hurried to obey, struggling to lift the solid mahogany table Bill and Lucy had bought at an estate sale. But as Lucy watched, the drops of water began coming faster and faster, rapidly forming a trickle that in only a few moments more became a stream. Finally, just as the women were beginning to shift the heavy table, the plaster let go. It fell on the cookie-covered table with a thump, followed by a deluge of water that poured onto the table and then cascaded onto the floor, splashing everyone.

      “Wow,” said Sue, wrapping an arm around Lucy’s shoulder and giving her a squeeze. “You sure know how to give one heck of a party.”

      

CHAPTER FOUR

      15 days ’til Christmas

      Wednesday morning, it took every bit of Lucy’s willpower to drag herself out of bed. All she wanted to do was to pull the covers over her head and forget everything—especially the cookie exchange.

      Once the flooding started, time had seemed to switch to slow motion. She remembered the horrified faces, and the polite assurances that “it didn’t matter one bit, we had a wonderful time, anyway” as the women departed, leaving her to face the sodden mess. Franny had offered to help clean up, but Lucy had sent her on her way, preferring to handle it herself.

      Bill had helped, holding a big trash bag open for her so she could dump the ruined cookies into it. It almost made her cry, thinking of all the work the soggy cookies represented, all those expensive ingredients gone to waste.

      She groaned, turning over and burying her face in her pillow.

      “You’ve got to get up,” said Bill, nibbling on her ear.

      “I don’t want to.”

      “Tough,” said Bill, whacking her bottom with a pillow.

      Lucy didn’t get up, she burrowed deeper under the covers, but she knew she was just postponing the inevitable. Bill was right. She had to get up. She had to get the lunches made and the kids off to school, then, she had to go straight to The Pennysaver and write up the selectmen’s meeting in time for the noon deadline. Ted was counting on her. She rolled over and got out of bed.

      “Thanks, Lucy, you did a real nice job with this,” said Ted, after he had given the story a quick edit. He scratched his chin and smiled slyly. “I guess the real story was your cookie exchange. Pam said you had quite a flood.”

      “Don’t remind me,” said Lucy, buttoning up her coat. “I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life.”

      “These things happen to everyone,” said Ted. “Don’t forget the kindergarten Christmas party on Monday, okay?”

      “I’ll have it for you Tuesday,” promised Lucy.

      She took his nod as a dismissal and left the office, scowling at the cheery jangle of the bell on the door. Crossing Main Street to her parked car, she consulted her mental list of things to do. She could pick up a few presents, she could tackle the Christmas cards, she could get started on Zoe’s angel costume for the Christmas pageant…the list went on and on.

      Nope, she decided, shifting the list to a mental “do later” file. Right now, she needed some tea and sympathy. She climbed in the car and started the engine, driving down the street to the rec building.

      Sue’s reaction, when she looked up from the sand table where she was helping two little boys build a racetrack for their Matchbox cars, was not what Lucy had hoped for.

      “That was some party last night,” said Sue, giggling. “If you could have seen the look on your face when the water started dripping—I never saw anything so funny in my life.”

      “Well, I’m glad somebody had a good time.” Lucy plopped herself down in a child-sized chair. She glanced around the room, where another boy was busy building a tower of blocks and a group of little girls were playing in the dress-up area, and asked, “Where’s your helper?”

      Sue shrugged her shoulders. “No phone call, no nothing. It’s a heck of an inconvenience. I had to call the moms of the three infants and have them make other arrangements. You know, I really thought Tucker was different. Mature. Responsible.” She shook her head. “Sooner or later, they all revert to form. She’s only a kid, after all. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

      “I don’t know. I was pretty impressed with her. She was the life of the party, until the party…”

      “Died a watery death?”

      “It needed to be put out of its misery, believe me.”

      Lucy watched as Sue put an arm around one of the little boys and began gently stroking his stomach.

      “Take it easy, Will,” she coaxed. “Just relax.”

      Will’s narrow chest, however, continued to rise and fall rapidly under his OshKosh overalls.

      “Is that Steffie’s Will?” Lucy asked, putting two and two together.

      “Yup. This is my friend, Will, and this is Harry,”