Mother's Day Murder

by Leslie Meier

  Lucy was carrying the pizza into the house when Bill pulled into the driveway. She waited to greet him, watching as he walked around to the passenger side and pulled out a big bag with a discount store logo.

  “What have you got there?” she asked.

  “Toys for Patrick. For tonight.”

  “But he’s only eight weeks old.”

  “You’re never too young to start,” said Bill, pulling out a huge baseball mitt.

  Lucy shook her head, laughing. “He could fit in that mitt.”

  “He’ll love it,” said Bill, putting it back in the bag. “It’s even got a Red Sox logo.”

  But when the grandparents took over and Bill switched on the TV to watch the game, sitting in the rocking chair with the baby in his lap, just like he used to do with his own kids, he discovered Patrick was not a Red Sox fan. All Patrick wanted to do was cry.

  Bill finally gave up and handed the tiny tyke over to Lucy, who tried everything she could think of. She changed his diaper, she offered him a bottle of his mother’s milk, she offered him a bottle of water, she tried a pacifier, and she even took him for a little drive, hoping the motion of the car would soothe him. Nothing did, until he finally fell asleep around ten o’clock.

  “I’m exhausted,” she told Bill as she collapsed on the couch. “I don’t know how his poor parents do it.”

  “Me, too,” said Bill. “I could hardly hear the game with all that crying.”

  Chapter Seven

  The birds were singing, the tulips were up, and the lilacs were budding. It was a gorgeous Saturday morning in May. The sun was already warm at eight o’clock as Lucy strolled about in the garden, checking the progress of the seeds she had planted. The peas were poking through the soil, as were the lettuce, spinach, and radish seedlings. It wouldn’t be long before they would be eating homegrown salads and vegetables.

  Lucy and Molly had scheduled spa appointments at ten o’clock, so Lucy decided to put the time to good use by trying to recruit her Prudence Path neighbors to help out at the after-prom party. Frankie, whose daughter Renee was also a freshman, was sitting on her deck, with a cup of coffee. She waved to Lucy, inviting her over.

  “Isn’t this weather glorious?” she asked. She was seated on a cushioned chaise lounge, with her legs bare to the sun. “Would you like some coffee?”

  “No, thanks,” said Lucy. “Don’t get up. You look so comfortable.”

  “I don’t mind, really,” she said, popping up. “I’m actually a bit cold and could use a sweater. I’m trying to tan my legs, just a little bit.”

  “Well, if you’re going inside, anyway…”

  “Back in a mo’.”

  Lucy sat down on a rattan café chair and admired Frankie’s deck, which looked like a bit of Provence transported to Maine. Not that Lucy had actually been to Provence, but she’d seen photos of Provence-style decor in magazines. Frankie had put out plenty of terracotta planters filled with impatiens and geraniums, and she’d added lots of pillows covered in classic red, yellow, green, and blue prints. There was even a market umbrella over the table.

  “I love what you’ve done with the deck,” said Lucy when Frankie returned with a steaming mug. “The pillows are beautiful.”

  Frankie smiled. “I got them in France last summer.” Lucy knew that Frankie, actually Francoise LaChance, visited her French relatives every summer, along with her daughter Renee.

  “I’m jealous,” said Lucy, taking a sip of the delicious coffee. “I’d love to visit France.”

  “I don’t know if I’m going to be able to go this summer,” she said, with a shrug. “The airfare has gotten so expensive. No deals in summertime.”

  “Is Renee disappointed?”

  “No, she’d rather stay here with her friends.”

  “Is she going to the prom?” asked Lucy.

  “With a football player. Justin Crane.” Frankie took a sip of coffee. “I wasn’t happy about it, but Frankie brought him home to meet me, and he seems okay.”

  “Well, that’s one reason I wanted to talk to you,” said Lucy. “I’m looking for volunteers for the after-prom party. Maybe you could help out?”

  Frankie’s eyes widened. “Are you doing that? Staying up all night?”

  “I figured I’d be up, anyway, worrying, so I might as well be keeping an eye on Sara.”

  “I know the party is well intentioned, but I’m a little reluctant to invade Renee’s territory, if you know what I mean. I think I’d like to talk to her about it before I make a commitment.”

  “Fair enough,” said Lucy, reluctantly getting to her feet. “I wish I could stay here all day. It’s so peaceful.”

  “Me, too, but I have to go sell a house.”

  “Good luck,” said Lucy.

  She crossed the street, heading for the Westwoods’ house to talk to Willie, also the mother of a freshman, Sassie. Like Sara and Renee, Sassie was a cheerleader. Her little brother, Chip, was shooting baskets in the driveway, accompanied by the family’s dogs, an Irish setter and a Lab.

  “Hi, Chip,” said Lucy as the dogs approached, tails wagging. “Is your mom home?”

  “Hi, Mrs. Stone. I’ll get her for you,” he said, disappearing inside, leaving the dogs to keep her company. Lucy smiled, hearing his voice as he went from room to room, yelling “Mom!”

  “Sorry about that,” said Willie, coming around the side of the house. “I was cleaning the rabbit hutch. Come on in.” She opened the door, and when the dogs attempted to slide through, she stopped them with a look. She was a tall, sturdy sort who spent every spare moment riding her horse.

  Lucy followed Willie into the kitchen, where she set about washing her hands. When she finished, she asked Lucy if she wanted some coffee.

  “No, thanks,” said Lucy, who was feeling rather jangly from Frankie’s strong brew. “I know you’re busy, and I won’t keep you. I’m recruiting volunteers for the after-prom party, and I wondered if you’d help out.”

  “I would, but Sassie’s not going.”

  “I’m surprised,” said Lucy. “I heard that Will Worthington was going to ask her.”

  “Oh, he did, but her father won’t let her go.” Willie raised her eyebrows.

  “Wow,” said Lucy, impressed at Scratch’s willpower, moral stamina, and parental fortitude. “How’s Sassie taking it?”

  “Not well,” admitted Willie. “The atmosphere in this house is like Berlin, before they took the wall down. Scratch and I are the evil East German guards. Sassie is the rebellious freedom fighter determined to get over the wall.”

  Lucy chuckled. “Well, good luck with that. You can’t possibly chaperone. You’ll have your hands full here at Checkpoint Charlie.”

  “You can say that again,” said Willie.

  Lucy was only too well aware that she was zero for two as she headed down the street, toward Molly and Toby’s house, and was searching her brain for possible chaperones when she saw Tommy Stanton coming toward her on his bicycle. Like the girls, Tommy was also a freshman, but he still looked boyish, with skinny shoulders, long legs, and big hands and feet.

  Lucy smiled and greeted him but was surprised when he braked and stopped, one foot on the ground and one propped on a pedal.

  “Hi, Mrs. Stone,” he said.

  “Beautiful day, isn’t it?” she replied.

  “Sure is, but I won’t get to enjoy it. I’ve got an all-day rehearsal. I’m in the chorus for Grease.”

  Lucy knew he was in the drama club, an organization that Sara insisted was only for losers. “It’ll all be worth it when you take your bows,” she said.

  “Yeah, it’s actually a lot of fun,” he admitted. “The kids in the club are really nice.” He stood awkwardly, looking down at his foot, then raised his head. “I dunno. Maybe I shouldn’t say anything, but do you know that Sara is going steady with Chad Mackenzie?”

  “He’s taking her to the prom,” said Lucy.

  Tommy’s cheeks were reddening, and his Adam’s apple wa
s bobbing in his skinny neck. “Well, I just think you ought to know that he’s no good. He gets the girls to think he’s in love with them and gets as much,”—here Tommy’s face grew scarlet—“as much as he can from them, and then he dumps them and starts with another. He’s already worked his way through most of the senior, junior, and sophomore classes!”

  “I know you’re Sara’s good friend,” said Lucy.

  Tommy was once again studying his shoe. “Well, you know, she’s real nice, and I don’t want her to get hurt.”

  “Oh, she’ll get hurt,” said Lucy. “We all do sooner or later. But I’m not worried about Chad. I suspect Sara knows what she’s doing.”

  Tommy looked surprised. “You do?”

  Lucy smiled. “I think she’s flattered by the attention and looking forward to the prom, but I think that’s about as far as it goes.”

  Tommy perked up. “You mean she doesn’t like him?”

  “Sure, she likes him, but I don’t think they have much in common. I wouldn’t be surprised if she got bored with him pretty soon.”

  “You think?” Tommy was ecstatic.

  “That’s what I think,” said Lucy, watching as Tommy sped away on his bike. Tommy was skinny and gawky now, but if he took after his older brother, Preston, he’d be extremely good looking in a year or two, and then all the girls would be chasing him. She was smiling as she tapped on Molly and Toby’s kitchen door.

  “C’mon in,” said Molly, looking up with bleary eyes from the kitchen table, where she was sitting with a cup of decaf. “I need the real stuff,” she moaned, “but if I drink it, the baby won’t sleep.”

  “Maybe a couple of deep, cleansing breaths and a quick walk up and down the street would do the trick,” said Lucy.

  Molly looked at her as if she were speaking Chinese. “I don’t think so,” she said. “I can barely sit.”

  “Well, you don’t even have to sit for your day at the spa,” said Lucy. “You can recline in luxury.”

  “I honestly think I’m too tired to get there,” said Molly, miserably. “I was up all night with the baby.”

  “He was fussy with us,” admitted Lucy. “Did you try letting him cry it out?”

  “We tried, but he wouldn’t stop crying. I think it made things worse.”

  “He’s quiet now,” observed Lucy.

  “That’s the problem. He sleeps all day and cries all night.”

  “Sometimes it takes them a while to get sorted out,” said Lucy.

  “Why doesn’t anybody ever tell you what it’s really like? That you’ll never get to sleep, that your clothes and hair smell like sour milk, that your stomach feels like bread dough?”

  “That’s simple,” said Lucy, pulling Molly to her feet. “If people knew the truth, they’d never have babies, and Homo sapiens would become extinct.”

  “I suppose you think that’s funny,” muttered Molly as Toby came into the kitchen to say good-bye. “Are you sure you can manage?” she asked him.

  “Don’t worry. Go. Relax. Enjoy yourself,” he assured her.

  “Maybe I should change the appointment,” said Molly. “I don’t have to go today.”

  Toby looked to his mother for help.

  “Come on, Molly,” Lucy said, taking her hand and leading her to the door. “Toby knows all about babies. He used to take care of his little sisters. He’ll be fine.”

  “That’s right,” said Toby. “Now, go, or you’ll be late.”

  For a moment, when they were getting in the car, Lucy thought Molly might cry, but she managed to distract her by chattering on about the weather, the flowers, even her odd little conversation with Tommy. Soon they were pulling up in front of the spa, where a uniformed valet took the car and a doorman greeted them.

  Inside, the air was perfumed, the carpet was thick, and a wall of water set a soothing tone. They were soon whisked away and wrapped in cotton terry robes and given herb tea to drink in the luxuriously appointed lounge while they waited for their massage appointments.

  All the while Lucy was enjoying her massage, she hoped that Molly was having the same experience. She felt all her tension, all her aches and pains melt away under the massage therapist’s skilled hands. Then she was ushered back to the lounge, where a light buffet lunch of fruit and salad had been set out. Lucy was happy to see that Molly had already helped herself and was stretched out on a chaise, tucking into a plateful of food.

  “What do you think so far?” asked Lucy.

  “To tell the truth, I’m not thinking at all,” said Molly, popping a strawberry into her mouth. “I’m so relaxed, I don’t think I’m capable of thought.”

  The spa was apparently doing the trick, thought Lucy, settling herself on a comfy recliner and spearing a piece of melon. Molly was already sounding more cheerful.

  After they’d eaten, the next step was a natural clay body wrap guaranteed to remove toxins and rejuvenate the skin, a relaxing soak in a tub dotted with fresh flowers, and a facial. When Lucy emerged after her manicure and pedicure, she felt loose limbed and radiant, and definitely free of toxins, though she was thinking some rather impure thoughts about what she’d like to do with Bill when she got home.

  “How do you feel?” she asked Molly, who looked better than she’d looked in months, with rosy cheeks and a smile.

  “I wish I could stay here forever,” admitted Molly. “I wish I didn’t have to go home.”

  Lucy bit her lip, hoping this wasn’t a sign of trouble. “Toby will be so happy to see you looking so refreshed,” she said.

  As they waited for the valet to bring the car around, Lucy debated whether she should share her concern about postpartum depression with Molly. Should she tell her that Toby was worried about her and remind her that if things ever seemed to be too much for her, she could always call them, that they were just a short hop away on Red Top Road? Or was that overstepping her role as mother-in-law? She’d just about made up her mind to broach the subject when the car arrived, and there was the business of tipping the valet and getting seat belts fastened, and then Molly wanted to know all about Sara’s prom dress.

  Lucy was describing it as they followed the winding road that ran through the resort, taking them past the pool and golf course and finally, just before the exit, the tennis courts, where she recognized Tina, playing with her husband, Lenny. They were an unlikely pair of athletes—Tina in a short white tennis skirt that revealed her substantial thighs and skinny little Lenny, with his signature mop of curly hair—but they were surprisingly good players. Tina had plenty of speed despite her size, and Lenny had a powerful backhand.

  Lucy was pointing them out to Molly when she heard a sharp pop and instinctively reached for Molly, pushing her head down and accelerating toward the shelter provided by a stand of rhododendron bushes.

  “What’s that?” asked Molly as several more pops were heard.

  “It sounded like gunshots,” said Lucy, whose hands were trembling as she clutched the steering wheel. The pops had stopped, followed by a loud silence. Lucy was trying to dial 911 on her cell phone, intending to report the incident, when she heard someone calling “Help” from the tennis court. Without stopping to think, she was out of the car, still clutching the cell phone, dashing around the bushes and down the slope to the court, where she could see Tina lying on the bright green surface. Lenny was standing beside her in bloodstained clothes, shouting. Taking in the scene, Lucy stopped to check her phone. The call hadn’t gone through, so she quickly punched in the numbers again. Molly caught up to her just as she was telling the dispatcher that there had been a double shooting at the Salt Aire tennis courts. When she finished, Molly tapped her shoulder and pointed. Together, they watched a figure dressed in white, with shiny blond hair, running through the woods on the other side of the tennis courts.

  Chapter Eight

  Molly immediately began galloping down the hill, weaving her way between trees and whipping through straggly bits of undergrowth, while Lucy followed, trying to keep
up while she was talking with the dispatcher.

  “A shooting at the Salt Aire tennis courts,” she panted. “A woman down. I think it’s Tina Nowak. Her husband may be hit, too.”

  “Is she breathing?”

  Lenny, who had been cradling his wife in his arms, changed position slightly, and Lucy saw bright red blood spreading across Tina’s white tennis shirt. His shirt was also bloody.

  “I can’t tell. I’m too far away. There’s a lot of blood on both of them. He may be wounded, too. The shooter ran away, on the opposite side of the courts,” added Lucy, reaching the fence and following it to the gate.

  “Rescue and police units are on the way,” said the dispatcher. “Can you update me on the victims’ conditions?”

  “I’m almost there,” said Lucy. Molly was already on her knees beside the couple, trying to extricate Tina from Lenny’s grip.

  “No, no, no,” he insisted, shaking his head and pulling Tina closer.

  “I have CPR training,” said Molly. “CPR. It could save her life, but you need to let go so I can start.”

  Lenny didn’t seem to understand but continued to cradle his wife, looking at Molly with an expression of bewilderment and shock. Then, as Molly repeated herself, he gradually loosened his grip and gently laid his wife down on the bright green surface of the court. Molly immediately sprang into action, positioning Tina’s head, making sure her airway was clear, and then breathing into her mouth. After completing the two breaths, she placed her hands on Tina’s chest and pressed. When she applied pressure, however, a small geyser of blood spurted from what appeared to be a shot to the heart. Her eyes round with horror, she looked at Lucy.

  “Just do the breathing,” advised Lucy. She turned to Lenny. “Are you hurt?”