Mother's Day Murder. Leslie Meier

reason to get personal. It’s not nice. And for your information, you and your happy family didn’t look all that happy to me!”

      Lucy kept on unloading her cart. She didn’t dare meet the cashier’s eyes, or she knew she’d start laughing.

      “I see you bought that new Mother Earth detergent,” said Dot, beginning to scan the groceries.

      “I thought I’d give it a try,” said Lucy, who was keeping an eye on the dispute at the newspaper rack.

      “We were until you came and spoiled it all,” declared Tina, raising her voice and attempting to yank the Globe out of Bar’s hands. “And not just for us, but for everyone there. Do you think they really wanted to hear you carrying on like that?”

      “I was just standing up for what’s right,” said Bar, with an indulgent smile. “I was promised that table. But this is the last time we’ll be patronizing that place. Bart was saying the food isn’t as good as it used to be and the service—”

      “Oh, so now Bart is a gourmand?” sneered Tina. “How come I’m always seeing his car outside that joint—what’s it called?—the Rainbow Inn.”

      “I think you should apologize immediately,” said Bar, giving the paper a sharp tug. “My husband is a highly respected cardiac surgeon.”

      Tina’s face was red, and her eyes were bulging. “He’s a pill-pushing Medicaid cheat with a wandering eye, that’s what he is, and everybody knows it,” she screamed. “Now give me my paper!”

      “You’re a bully, and I won’t give in to bullies,” hissed Tina. “Let go of my paper!”

      “No, you let go!”

      “No, you!”

      “I think I better intervene, before they come to blows,” said Dot. She marched over and snatched the paper, ending their tug-of-war. “I know this is the last Globe. Maybe we can toss a coin or something. Meanwhile, let me point out there are plenty of other papers, including the New York Times and Wall Street Journal.”

      “I want the Globe,” said Bar.

      “And she has to get what she wants,” snarled Tina. “Even if it belongs to someone else.”

      “Actually, this Globe belongs to Mr. Marzetti,” said Dot, naming the owner of the store. “But what do you say we split it, for free? There’s six sections. You can each have three.”

      “I get City and Region,” they both said simultaneously.

      “Now, that’s a problem,” said Dot, folding the paper and tucking it under her arm. “I think you better both take the Herald. No charge.”

      “Oh, all right, give her the Globe,” exclaimed Bar, throwing her hands up. “At least the Herald supports our president, and I won’t have to deal with the Globe’s liberal bias just to find out what happened to that poor girl.”

      “It’s not biased,” insisted Tina, snatching the paper from Dot. “It’s the Herald that’s biased.”

      Bar’s eyes were blazing, and she was about to reply when Lucy interrupted. “I think you should read the Pennysaver,” she said, unable to resist a plug. “Tomorrow’s issue has an exclusive story about the Corinne Appleton case.”

      They both tuned in and looked at her. Then they both burst into laughter and went on their separate ways, shaking their heads.

      “What’s so funny?” asked Lucy when Dot returned to the register. “We do a good job at the Pennysaver. I’ve got the only interview with the guy who found the bones.”

      “I never miss an issue,” said Dot, hitting the TOTAL button. “That’ll be one-oh-three fifty-seven.”

      Libby greeted Lucy enthusiastically when she arrived home with the groceries, but despite her Labrador grin and wagging tail, most of her attention was focused on the bags of food. She gave each one a thorough sniffing, especially those containing meat.

      “Down, down,” ordered Lucy as she struggled to hoist several heavy bags onto the counter. It was only when she tossed a handful of dog biscuits on the floor that Libby turned her attention away from the bag containing lamb chops, on sale for $5.99 a pound. Now that the family was smaller, Lucy could afford an occasional splurge.

      When Lucy finished putting everything away, she made herself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and took it to the kitchen table, along with a glass of milk. She sat there, staring out the window at the woods beyond the backyard, chewing thoughtfully.

      This time of year she liked to walk in the woods, looking for wildflowers. They came in quick succession, beginning with lush green carpets of skunk cabbage in damp places and, tucked away in sheltered nooks, jack-in-the-pulpits. She knew where the trillium bloomed every year, and she often found bloodroot, foamflowers, and dogtooth violets. There were also survivors from long-vanished farms: lilacs and apple trees, patches of lily of the valley and, come summer, day lilies. But now that Corinne’s bones had been found in the woods, she wasn’t quite so keen to go hunting for wildflowers. It was silly. Shiloh was miles away, and there was little chance she would come upon anything more gruesome than a pile of feathers or a tuft of fur remaining from a hawk’s dinner, but she didn’t want to chance it. And, anyway, she sighed, getting up to put her plate and glass in the dishwasher, she’d be thinking of Corinne the whole time, thinking of her sweet, young body left exposed in the woods, where scavengers, like raccoons, coyotes, and crows, even pets, like cats and dogs, could gnaw on her.

      Just thinking about the evil person who would do such a thing, who would harm a defenseless young girl, made her angry, and she made good use of her emotions, scrubbing away dirt and grime in the kitchen and bathrooms, and thoroughly vacuuming the family-room carpet. She was just putting her cleaning tools away when Libby’s bark announced the arrival of the school bus.

      She opened the door to let Libby out to greet Zoe and was surprised to see that Sara had taken the bus home, too. This was surprising because she knew Sara was planning to stay at school to watch Chad play baseball. She automatically reached to feel Sara’s forehead when she came into the kitchen.

      “Don’t you feel good?” she asked. “Are you coming down with something?”

      “I’m fine, Mom,” said Sara.

      “I thought you were staying for the game.”

      “I changed my mind.”

      Her tone was defensive, and Lucy cast a questioning look at Zoe, who just shrugged her shoulders.

      Mentally, Lucy ran through the possibilities. A bad grade? A scolding from a teacher? A fight with Renee or Sassie? Chad with another girl? “Would you like a snack? I got some nice strawberries….”

      “I’m not hungry,” said Sara, heading for the stairs and climbing them slowly, as if it were an effort.

      “What’s going on?” Lucy asked Zoe, who had pulled the box of berries out of the fridge and was sitting down at the table with them, dipping them into the sugar bowl before popping them in her mouth.

      “I dunno, Mom,” she answered, her mouth full.

      “Don’t talk with your mouth full, and let’s put some of that sugar in a little dish so you don’t spoil all the sugar in the sugar bowl.”

      “Oh, sorry, Mom.”

      “She didn’t say anything?” asked Lucy.

      “Nope.”

      “Was she alone?”

      “No.” Zoe put a berry in her mouth and chewed slowly and thoroughly. Lucy thought she’d scream, waiting for her to swallow. “She was with Chad.”

      “Really? How did they seem? Were they fighting?”

      “No.” Another berry, another wait. “He kissed her.”

      Not