Holiday Murder

by Leslie Meier

  Finally, when the dishes were all done and put away, and the children changed into their new pajamas, they sat around the TV and watched a replay of the day on the VCR.

  “Honestly, this ought to be titled The Perfect Christmas,” said Edna.

  “I know,” Lucy agreed. They looked up as Bill came into the room.

  “Lucy, there’s a phone call for you.”

  When Lucy picked up the receiver she was surprised to hear a male voice on the other end.

  “Mrs. Stone, this is Officer Findlay. I’m calling for Mrs. Culpepper. Her husband’s been hurt and she wants you to stay with Eddie so she can go to the hospital.”

  “Of course,” said Lucy. “Is he badly hurt?”

  “I can’t say. I’m not even sure he’s alive. His car went off the road near Barrow’s Light.”

  “Oh, my God,” Lucy said with a gasp. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  Chapter Seventeen

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  As Lucy sped through the night in her little car, she repeated over and over, “Please let Barney be all right, let Barney be all right.” The car was frigid; the drive was too short for it to warm up, and Lucy’s stomach tightened as her hands clenched the wheel. When she pulled up in front of the little ranch house, she was shivering from cold and anxiety.

  She tapped on the door and stood blinking in the light and heat that hit her when it was thrown open. Marge looked terrible. Always a large woman, she had given up the struggle to contain her weight some years ago. But now in spite of her bulk she suddenly seemed frail and vulnerable. Her face was pasty white, and the harsh overhead light revealed dark circles under her eyes.

  “Don’t worry, Marge,” said Lucy, rushing to hug her friend. “I’ll stay as long as you need.”

  “Thanks, Lucy.” Marge stepped back but grasped her hands. “I hate to take you from your family at Christmas.”

  Feeling Marge’s hands trembling, Lucy gave them a gentle squeeze. “Don’t be silly—it can’t be helped. I’m glad you called. Honest. Now, get going,” she said, giving her a little shove. “And call me as soon as you have any news.”

  Lucy stood in the doorway for a moment, watching Officer Findlay lead Marge down the icy path to the patrol car; then she shut the door firmly against the dark and cold. She tiptoed down the hall. It wasn’t difficult to figure out which room was Eddie’s. Pausing outside the door that had been left slightly ajar, she peeked in. Enough light from the hall filtered in so that she could see Eddie sleeping peacefully. His face was plump and round, and asleep he looked much younger than he did in the daytime. Although he was a big, strapping boy, he wasn’t really very old—only ten, like Toby. He still needed his parents, thought Lucy. Both his parents.

  Returning to the living room, Lucy sat down on the plaid Herculon couch. She drew her knees up to her chest and hugged them. She was still shivering slightly, and she let out a long, quavering sigh.

  The Christmas tree stood in the corner, glimmering as the tinsel wafted gently in the updraft from the baseboard heat. The lights were still on, twinkling gaily, and the opened presents were spread out beneath the pine branches. Among the presents she noticed a hat and scarf set from Country Cousins. It was one of the less expensive items in the catalog and was a very popular gift. Lucy alone had sold hundreds of them. Seeing a little gift card tucked in the corner of the box, she took it out and unfolded it carefully. “To Marge,” the card read, “because you need more than love to keep you warm.” It was signed “Barney.”

  Lucy dropped it as if it had suddenly burst into flame in her hand and wrapped her arms around herself. Her glance fell on the worn recliner in the corner that was clearly Barney’s chair. The lamp table beside it was well stocked with the hard candies he had sucked on steadily since giving up smoking, and his TV Guide and remote control awaited his return.

  “Damn,” muttered Lucy. She didn’t for a moment believe that Barney’s crash had been an accident. He was an expert driver; in fact, he’d taken many specialized driving courses for police officers. He loved driving the big cruiser with its antilock brakes and heavy-duty suspension, and often said that if you knew what to do, you could control any skid.

  Of course, the road to Barrow’s Light was full of curves, and black ice was always possible this time of year. But Barney would have known that and driven accordingly, thought Lucy.

  She rose awkwardly to her feet and went out to the kitchen, remembering the many hours she’d spent babysitting as a teenager. Then, as now, the refrigerator had an undeniable appeal. Marge wouldn’t mind if she had a snack. Pulling open the door, she peered in; the remains of the Christmas turkey were wrapped carefully in aluminum foil. Lucy took out the packet and placed it on the table. In the breadbox she found a loaf of homemade bread, and the covered butter dish was placed nearby. Lucy smiled approvingly. She hated refrigerated butter herself and always kept her butter out, except in the hottest days of summer.

  With nothing else to do except worry about Barney, she made a project of constructing a sandwich, slicing two perfectly even pieces of bread. She put them in the toaster and watched carefully so she could take them out when they were just lightly toasted. Then she spread them with the soft butter, covering even the corners and watching the butter melt into the little air holes. Taking out a large carving knife, she cut two thin slices of breast meat and laid them on the bread. She dusted the meat with salt and pepper, then fished a head of lettuce out of the crisper and peeled off a nicely wrinkled leaf. Adding this to the sandwich, she placed the second piece of bread on top. With geometric precision she cut the sandwich from corner to corner in four triangles. Opening the refrigerator again, she pulled out a bottle of Moosehead Ale, then sat down at the table to eat her snack.

  What if the cruiser had some sort of mechanical failure? It was possible, but unlikely. Barney and the other cops maintained the cruisers themselves, in a garage underneath the police station. They didn’t trust the black-and-whites to just any mechanic; they knew their lives could depend on the cars and followed a strict maintenance schedule religiously.

  Could the car have been sabotaged? Could someone have cut the brake line? Lucy didn’t think so. The saboteur would have been taking an enormous risk, unless he was someone the cops knew well—someone who was above suspicion or perhaps someone who was interested in cars. Lucy couldn’t get away from the fact that Sam Miller had been killed in a car, and Barney had almost been killed in his.

  Lucy chewed her sandwich and sipped her beer thoughtfully. The last time she’d seen Barney he’d been brimming with life, complaining that his job was boring. Had he finally gotten the high-speed chase he’d wanted? She suspected that whether he knew it or not, he’d discovered something that made him dangerous to Sam Miller’s murderer. And whatever it was, it had driven the murderer to attempt a second killing.

  If he died, how was Marge going to manage? Now, more than ever, families needed two incomes to get by. In her heart Lucy knew that security was just an illusion. She’d never fallen into the trap her mother had of building her life completely around her husband. Down deep she knew there was only one person she could count on—herself. Paychecks, houses, husbands, children, could all be lost in an instant. There are no certainties in life except death, she thought. We are all on slippery ground indeed.

  Tragedy, however, was no excuse for leaving dirty dishes. Lucy washed up the dish and knife she’d used and wiped the table. She found a piece of paper and a pencil and began making a list of people who could help Marge. Checking the clock, she realized it was only a little bit past nine, not too late to call Sue.

  “Hi, Sue—it’s me, Lucy. Did you have a good Christmas?”

  “Did I? You’ll never guess what Tom gave me—a gorgeous aviator’s jacket.”

  “Lucky you. But I didn’t call to compare Christmas presents. S
omething terrible’s happened.”

  “What’s the matter?” Sue’s voice was immediately full of concern.

  Lucy told her the news, including the few details she knew about Barney’s crash.

  “I just can’t believe it. What a terrible thing, especially at Christmas.”

  “I know. It’s awful here in their house. All the presents are under the tree and everything.”

  “Marge will need a lot of help. Her mother’s been sick and she doesn’t have any other relatives around here.”

  “She’ll need someone to take care of Eddie,” said Lucy.

  “He’s good friends with Adam Stillings. Maybe Pam will take him tomorrow.”

  “That’s a good idea. I better get off the phone and leave the line free. Marge promised to call.”

  “Okay. I’ll give Pam a call tonight. Adam’s probably covering the accident for The Pennysaver.”

  “Let me know if you hear anything, okay?”

  Lucy replaced the receiver and tiptoed down the hall to make sure she hadn’t disturbed Eddie. Seeing that he was still sleeping deeply, she went back to the kitchen. She stood leaning against the kitchen sink, savoring the last drops of beer and reading the collection of notices attached to the refrigerator with magnets.

  There was a birthday party invitation printed with brightly colored dinosaurs; an identical one was on Lucy’s refrigerator. Toby and Eddie and the rest of the Cub Scout den had been invited to Richie Goodman’s birthday party. The school calendar and the lunch menus for December were neatly clipped in a magnetic holder, along with the rules for constructing the little Pinewood Derby cars the Cub Scouts would race in January. Lucy made a mental note to have Bill help Eddie since Barney wouldn’t be able to. There was a postcard from Opryland that an Aunt Liz had sent last August and a photograph of Barney dressed as a giant bumblebee, which made Lucy grin.

  She yawned and glanced at the clock. It was almost ten. She was exhausted, she realized; she had had only a few hours of sleep last night. She checked the TV listings and decided to watch the last hour of It’s a Wonderful Life. Stretching out on the couch with an afghan over her, she watched only a little bit of the movie before she fell asleep.

  Thanks to the Moosehead, she woke up around midnight to go to the bathroom. She switched off the TV and turned off all the lights except for the hall and the outside porch light in case Marge came home. She returned to the couch, and next thing she knew sunlight was streaming through the picture window and the phone was ringing.

  “Unnnh,” said Lucy in the direction of the receiver.

  “Lucy, it’s Marge. Did I wake you?”

  “That’s okay. How’s Barney?”

  “They took us to Portland last night in the air ambulance. He was in surgery for five hours and guess they’ve put him back together. They say he’ll recover well from his physical wounds. The problem is that he’s in a coma. He could come out of it anytime, or not at all. We just have to wait.”

  “That’s awful!” Lucy blurted.

  “I know. I’m just trying to be glad he’s alive. I’m not giving up hope. He’s strong. They said nine out of ten wouldn’t have survived the surgery.”

  “He’ll be fine, Marge, I know he will,” said Lucy, struggling to keep her voice from breaking.

  “I’ll probably be home this afternoon. I’m going to catch some sleep now, and then Dave Davidson is going to bring me home. He’s coming up after services this morning. I hate to ask—but could you keep Eddie?”

  “It’s no problem. Everyone will want to help.”

  Indeed, Lucy could see through the kitchen window that a car was pulling up in front of the house. A short figure climbed out and began walking toward the house carrying a foil-covered dish.

  “In fact, here comes Franny Small. I bet she’s got a dish of Austrian ravioli for you.”

  “I bet she does.” Marge laughed weakly. “It’s good to know I can depend on people.”

  “You know you can always depend on Franny to bring Austrian ravioli.” Lucy chuckled. “Don’t worry about things here. Just take care of yourself and Barney.”

  Lucy opened the door for Franny, “Goodness, you’re up and about early, Franny. Want some coffee?”

  “No, thanks, I have to get Mother to church at eight for choir practice. I had this in the freezer and thought Marge might be able to use it. It’s Austrian ravioli.”

  Lucy stifled a smile. “That’s so sweet of you, Franny. It’s still frozen, so I think I’ll just put it in the freezer. Goodness knows when Marge will get back.”

  “I’ve got to run, Lucy. Mother hates to be late.”

  Lucy was making herself a cup of instant coffee when Eddie appeared in the kitchen, barefoot and in pajamas.

  “Where’s Mom?”

  “Your mom and dad were called away on an emergency last night, Eddie. I spent the night here. What do you usually have for breakfast?”

  “Scrambled eggs.”

  “I’ll mix ’em up while you get dressed,” Lucy said cheerfully. “And be sure to put something on your feet.”

  While she cooked Lucy wondered how to tell Eddie the bad news. She wanted to get some food in him before she told him, and she wanted him to have something else to think about. She quickly dialed Pam Stillings and asked if Eddie could spend the day with Adam.

  Eddie soon reappeared, dressed in new Christmas clothes. Lucy set a plate in front of him and sipped her coffee while she watched him eat.

  “Did you have a good Christmas, Eddie? What did Santa bring?”

  “Electronic football. I really wanted that.”

  “Sounds like fun. Maybe you could take it over to Adam’s house. I’m going to drop you off there on my way home, okay?”

  “Sure. Where are Mom and Dad?”

  “Eddie, your dad had an accident last night.” Lucy spoke softly. “They took him to the hospital in Portland. Your mom called a little while ago. Your dad had surgery, and he did real well, but he’s still unconscious. He’s a big strong man, Eddie, and I think he’ll be fine.”

  “Dad once lifted a car off a little girl.”

  “I remember that,” said Lucy, “It was on the TV news.”

  “Yeah.” Eddie’s eyes shone with pride.

  “Well, he’ll probably be in the news again. Meanwhile, you’re going to Adam’s. Mom will be home later, and you’ll probably have leftover turkey for supper. Do you like that?”

  “Yeah.” Eddie nodded, swallowing hard.

  “Let’s get a move on,” said Lucy. “How about combing your hair and brushing your teeth?”

  “Do I have to?”

  Lucy raised an eyebrow and smiled to herself as Eddie headed down the hall. The phone was ringing again and she could see Bev Thompson coming up the walk carrying a pie basket.

  Chapter Eighteen

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  “I couldn’t believe it when I heard,” said Bev, shaking her head. “I was going to take this pie to the Friendship Circle dinner tonight, but I’ve got time to make another one. It’s apple.”

  “Thanks. I know Eddie will enjoy it.” Lucy took the pie, and as Bev turned to go she spoke impulsively. “Do you have a minute? I’d love to have a cup of coffee with you.”

  “Sure, Lucy. I’ve been missing you and the other girls at work.” Bev settled herself at the kitchen table, and Lucy poured two cups of coffee.

  “Have you been thinking about getting another job?” Lucy asked.

  “Not really. Fred left me well provided for,” Bev admitted, taking a sip of coffee. “Actually, I’m thinking of traveling a little. I’d like to visit my son in D.C. Then I could go on to Florida and stay with my sister for a while—she’s always after me to come. Then if I flew to San Francisco where my d
aughter lives and stayed with her a while, winter would be pretty well over.” Bev raised an eyebrow and tapped her mug, waiting for Lucy’s reaction.

  “I’m speechless,” said Lucy, smiling. “You’ve never been one for traveling.”

  “I know,” admitted Bev. “I was perfectly happy to stay here. But now that I don’t have my job anymore, there’s nothing to keep me here.”

  Lucy nodded. “Have you seen Karen?”

  “I have. She’s really mad. Thinks they laid her off because of the baby. Something about the insurance.”

  “She said she was only working to get the insurance.”

  “I know,” agreed Bev. “She’s taking the company to court.”

  “Really? Good for her.” Lucy chuckled. “I don’t think the company should get away with it. There were never layoffs when Sam was in charge. I think George was behind it.”

  “I never liked him. At least now I don’t have to be polite to him.” She paused. “I saw him, you know. In MacReed’s. I didn’t say a word to him. I just glared at him.” She blushed, remembering her rudeness.

  “What were you doing in MacReed’s?” asked Lucy. MacReed’s was a bait and gun shop.

  “Oh, I was seeing about selling Fred’s guns and fishing tackle. I’ll certainly never use them, and the money would come in handy for the trip. It was odd seeing George there. I never thought of him as the sporting type.”

  “What was he doing there?”

  “I don’t know. He was in the gun side of the shop, though. Maybe he thinks he better get himself some protection now that he’s laid off half the town.”

  “Mrs. Stone, can I watch TV?” Eddie’s hair showed signs of recent combing, and there were dribbles of toothpaste on his shirt.

  “Sure. Come here a minute.” Lucy rubbed at the stains with a damp corner of a kitchen towel. “We’d better get this show on the road.”

  Bev, quick to take a hint, rose to her feet and began putting on her coat. “Be sure to tell Marge that I’d be happy to help. All she has to do is call.”