Trick Or Treat Murder. Leslie Meier

tion>

      

      TRICK OR TREAT MURDER

      Lucy was just tucking Zoe’s arms and legs into a stretchy little suit when the music on the radio ended and the announcer read the news tease.

      “Police say a suspicious Tinker’s Cove fire claimed the life of at least one victim. More in a moment.”

      “Oh, no,” Lucy muttered as she settled herself in the rocking chair with Zoe. She wondered who the victim could have been.

      Lucy bent down and sniffed Zoe’s clean baby scent. It was the best smell in the world. Just then the announcer’s voice interrupted her reverie.

      “The fire that destroyed the Hopkins Homestead early Tuesday morning also claimed the life of its owner, Monica Mayes.”

      Lucy sat motionless as the information sank in. Gradually, grief engulfed her and tears ran down her face.

      “No, not Monica,” she whispered.

      “This means we are no longer investigating a case of arson.” Lucy recognized Police Chief Oswald Crowley’s voice, in a recorded sound bite. “This is now a homicide investigation.”

      Homicide? Lucy thought. Who would want to kill Monica?

      Books by Leslie Meier

      Mistletoe Murder

      Tippy Toe Murder

      Trick or Treat Murder

      Back to School Murder

      Valentine Murder

      Christmas Cookie Murder

      Turkey Day Murder

      Wedding Day Murder

      Birthday Party Murder

      Father’s Day Murder

      Star Spangled Murder

      New Year’s Eve Murder

      Bake Sale Murder

      Candy Cane Murder

      St. Patrick’s Day Murder

      Mother’s Day Murder

      Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

      A Lucy Stone Mystery

      Trick or Treat MURDER

      LESLIE MEIER

      KENSINGTON BOOKS

       KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

       http://www.kensingtonbooks.com

      For Mommy,

       who always wore her real pearls

      CONTENTS

      PROLOGUE

      CHAPTER ONE

      CHAPTER TWO

      CHAPTER THREE

      CHAPTER FOUR

      CHAPTER FIVE

      CHAPTER SIX

      CHAPTER SEVEN

      CHAPTER EIGHT

      CHAPTER NINE

      CHAPTER TEN

      CHAPTER ELEVEN

      CHAPTER TWELVE

      CHAPTER THIRTEEN

      CHAPTER FOURTEEN

      CHAPTER FIFTEEN

      CHAPTER SIXTEEN

      CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

      CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

      CHAPTER NINETEEN

      CHAPTER TWENTY

      CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

      CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

      CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

      CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

      CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

      CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

      CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

      CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

      CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

      CHAPTER THIRTY

      CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

      CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

      CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

      CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

      CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

      CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

      CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

      CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

      EPILOGUE

      PREVIEW

      PROLOGUE

      “I could just kill him.”

      Monica Mayes pressed the gas pedal of her little BMW to the floor and zoomed around a pokey Dodge Caravan, cutting it a bit too close as she pulled back into her lane. The driver of the Caravan braked, and the van swerved, but Monica didn’t notice.

      “How could he do this to me?” she asked herself, pulling out the cigarette lighter. With a trembling hand she held it to the end of a Virginia Slim and took a long, slow draw. No longer used to the smoke, she hadn’t had a cigarette in years, she coughed.

      “He’s not worth it,” she decided, tossing the cigarette out the window. She was damned if she was going to sacrifice her health for him. He’d gotten enough from her already. Thirty-two years of marriage, three grown children.

      Tears welled in her eyes. She couldn’t believe how much it hurt, actual physical pain. Her chest ached with every breath; she could hardly swallow. He’d never laid a finger on her, but she felt bruised and beaten anyway.

      She hadn’t seen that final blow coming. If she had she might have taken care to avoid it. But she’d never suspected a thing.

      She’d left the house at a quarter to one for her weekly shift at the Hospital Auxiliary thrift shop. Realizing she’d forgotten a couple of Roland’s old suits that she’d planned to donate, she returned home. She’d hurried upstairs, thrown open the bedroom door, and was halfway across the room before she even saw them.

      Roland and Krissy, her aerobics instructor. Her aerobics instructor, for God’s sake! And in her own bed—their marriage bed.

      “How could he do that?” she asked herself. He was such a bastard. Why hadn’t she realized it sooner? She’d just gotten used to it. She gave and he took. That’s the way it was. Her job was to please him. She cooked for him. She cleaned for him. She washed and ironed for him. She entertained for him, and decorated the house for him. She dressed for him, and dieted, and even took aerobics for him.

      She’d been a fool. She’d thought their marriage was as important to him as it was to her. Him. The doctor. The head honcho. The chief of staff.

      Angry now, she impatiently brushed the tears from her cheeks. She’d show him, she decided. She’d hit him where it hurt. He wasn’t going to get off scot free. He’d have to pay. She began making a mental list as she flew along the turnpike, empty on this weekday night now that the tourist season was over.

      First of all, she wanted the house in Tinker’s Cove, and all the furniture. She’d need her car, of course, and money. A nice little nest egg, plus a big fat alimony check every month. It was her due. She’d earned it. She wasn’t going to settle for less.

      Was that her exit already? Braking hard she careened off the highway, almost losing control of the car