Holiday Murder

by Leslie Meier

  “Just one question . . .” he began, exercising his editorial prerogative, as Lucy answered the ringing phone.

  She held up one finger, indicating she would be with him in a minute.

  “Pennysaver, this is Lucy.”

  “Thank God you’re there!”

  “Sue?”

  “Can you come over? I’m desperate!”

  “Right now?”

  “Yes. It’s Will. Another attack. I’ve got to take him to the clinic.”

  “Okay. I’m on my way.”

  * * *

  Lucy expected to find the day-care center in chaos when she got there, imagining small figures running around and shrieking at the top of their lungs. All was quiet, however, when she pulled open the door. Connie Fitzpatrick, one of the teachers at Kiddie Kollege, the nursery school that was also housed in the rec building, had settled the children down for their nap.

  “Hi, Lucy,” she whispered. “Sue says they rest for at least a half hour, but if they fall asleep they can go ’til one-thirty.”

  Lucy nodded and Connie tiptoed out, leaving her in charge. She hung up her coat and checked on the children, who were lying on floor mats. Her buddies Harry and Justin were sound asleep, and Emily seemed ready to drift off. Hillary, Lee’s little girl, was lying on her back, holding up a stuffed toy and whispering to it.

  Lucy caught her eye and held her finger to her lips, warning her to be quiet. Hillary rolled over on her tummy, hugging the little bear and sticking her thumb in her mouth.

  Continuing her circuit of the room, Lucy felt a bit nonplussed. She had expected to have to cope with a difficult situation but everything was under control. She looked out the window for a few minutes, then went over to Sue’s desk, looking for something to read.

  She picked up a magazine and sat down in the rocking chair. But somehow she couldn’t get interested in whether she should “Take the Plunge! Go for the Gold!” and color her hair blond. As for “Paint Your Way Out of the Box!,” well, her house was hardly a suburban box and, while the dining room definitely needed work, she didn’t think she was interested in knocking even more holes in the plaster for an antique look and applying a faux marble finish.

  She dropped the magazine in her lap and leaned back, closing her eyes and intending to relax, but it was no good. Her eyes refused to stay shut, and her legs twitched. She needed to move. She got up, stretched, and walked back to the window. She stayed there for a few minutes, doing squats to relieve the tension in her legs. Then she replaced the magazine on Sue’s desk and stood for a moment at Tucker’s.

  It was now bare; her parents had taken her things. Lucy pulled out the chair and sat down. With nothing better to do, she opened the shallow center drawer; releasing the bitter smell of unfinished wood. As she expected, the drawer was empty, as were all the others. But when she tried to close the big bottom drawer it wouldn’t go all the way in.

  Getting down on her hands and knees, Lucy pulled the drawer out and peered behind it. Something was stuck in the space behind the drawer. She reached in and felt a plastic-covered book of some kind. The missing agenda, she thought, with a rising sense of excitement.

  She pulled it out, discovering the bright pink, chunky day planner Sue had described. No wonder they hadn’t been able to find it; as long as it remained upright, there had been enough room for the drawer to close. It was only when it fell on its side that it blocked the drawer.

  Lucy set the agenda on the desk and replaced the drawer. Then she sat down once again and held the agenda, smoothing it with the palm of her hand. Should she open it? Some people used agendas like diaries, recording intimate details of their lives. Tucker, Lucy guessed, wasn’t like that. She probably used her agenda as a calendar, so she wouldn’t forget meetings and appointments.

  It wouldn’t hurt, thought Lucy, to take a peek. If it seemed personal and private, she could stop. But when she leafed through the lined pages she found only the briefest notations. On the day she died, Lucy discovered, Tucker had been planning to get a haircut at five-thirty.

  Curiously, Lucy leafed through the pages preceding her death. They were mostly blank. The cookie exchange was noted, as was an oil-change appointment. And Tucker had planned something for Sunday, but Lucy wasn’t sure what. In her clear, precise block printing she had written three letters: A, M, and C.

  What did that mean, wondered Lucy. Was she planning to meet somebody? Somebody with the initials AMC? Who could that be? And when? Tucker had not written down any time, which seemed odd.

  Unless, thought Lucy, it was such an important meeting she didn’t have to. Her parents coming, perhaps? Or a serious boyfriend. Those weren’t Steve’s initials, that was for sure.

  Not Steve, thought Lucy, struck with a horrible realization. Not Steve’s, Lee’s. Aurelie Mabelline Cummings. Lucy mouthed the words, silently. Then she picked up a pencil and wrote the initials on a scrap of paper: A. M. C.

  Lucy’s eyes fell on little Hillary, now sound asleep on her mat. She had the awful feeling she was looking at a motive. Just how far would Lee go to get Hillary and Gloria’s daddy back? Lee had made no bones about the fact that she hated Tucker; could she have killed her?

  Seeing Sue’s face in the glass window of the door, Lucy rolled the paper into a ball and tossed it into the wastebasket. Her first impulse was to get rid of the initials; she wasn’t ready to think about this now.

  “Hiya,” she whispered. “How’s Will?”

  “Better.” Sue sighed: and sat down in the rocking chair without taking off her coat. “I’m exhausted.”

  “Racing off to the clinic with a sick child will do that to you,” observed Lucy.

  “It’s really not fair,” complained Sue. “If his folks weren’t in denial about this whole thing, and if they started treating Will’s asthma, I wouldn’t have to go through this every other day.”

  “The doctor will talk to them.”

  Sue shrugged. “That’s the problem with the clinic. It’s a different doctor every time.”

  Lucy looked at her watch. “I have to go.”

  Sue nodded. “Thanks for helping out.”

  “No problem. Oh, by the way. I found Tucker’s agenda. It was stuck behind a drawer.”

  “Always the detective.” Sue smiled at her.

  “I was bored.” Lucy blushed.

  “I’ll send it to her folks.”

  Lucy nodded, relieved. That took care of that problem. “Thanks,” she said, and hurried out to her car.

  Today, she definitely wanted to be home when the kids got home from school. Considering yesterday’s happenings, she didn’t trust Toby and wanted to keep an eye on him. She also knew she had to tell Bill about the marijuana, and figured things would go better if she broached the subject after he’d had his favorite dinner: meat loaf.

  She was in plenty of time, as it turned out. The Regulator clock in the kitchen read two o’clock when she got home, giving her at least an hour before the kids would arrive. Plenty of time to fix herself a belated lunch. But when she opened a cabinet to get a clean glass, she noticed the light on the answering machine was blinking. She punched the button and listened, while she poured herself a glass of milk.

  “Mrs. Stone, this is the Tinker’s Cove High School. Please report to the assistant principal’s office before the end of the day.”

  “Toby,” groaned Lucy, replacing the milk container and slamming the refrigerator door shut. She took the glass of milk with her, to drink on the drive. She was pretty sure she would need nourishment to face what was coming.

  Chapter Eleven

  Calls involving the assistant principal never meant good news. The principal saved all the good news for himself; he issued all the congratulations and honors leaving the assistant principal, Mr. Humphreys, to handle disciplinary matters.

  It was ironic, thought Lucy. Toby had always had a blameless disciplinary record. But just as he was applying to colleges and would need faculty recommendations, of course now was the
time he chose to get himself into trouble.

  What had he done? It hit Lucy like a semi speeding down Red Top Road at ninety miles an hour. He had gotten caught with pot.

  Her stomach twisted itself into a knot, and she regretted the milk she’d gulped while speeding along. A drug offense meant he was in big trouble. She struggled to remember the official school policy, clearly stated and sent home at the beginning of the school year with every student in the Tinker’s Cove High School student handbook. If only she’d read the damn thing.

  A detention or suspension wouldn’t be so bad, but she had a horrible feeling that the school also took it upon itself to report drug offenses to the police. That could mean Toby would be charged with a crime. Could they send him to jail? With all those murderers and thieves and rapists. Not in my lifetime, vowed Lucy, determined to defend her child no matter what. Toby may have done something wrong, but he still had rights, and she was going to make sure he exercised them.

  Stupid, stupid idiot, she muttered under her breath as she parked the car in front of the school, marched up the sidewalk and down the hall to Mr. Humphreys’s office. She yanked the door open angrily and stopped dead in her tracks. It wasn’t Toby sitting on the bench in Mr. Humphreys’s anteroom, it was Elizabeth.

  “What happened?” asked Lucy, sitting beside her. She felt completely off-balance. This wasn’t what she had expected at all.

  “I was only trying to help.” Elizabeth was so angry her entire body was tense.

  “Tell me the whole story.”

  “This girl named Chantal was having an asthma attack, and I gave her my inhaler.”

  “Did it work?”

  “Yeah. She’s fine.” Elizabeth was picking at the brown paper cover on a thick history textbook. It was filled with multicolored doodles and scribbles and was beginning to tear at the corners.

  “So what’s the problem?” Lucy didn’t get it.

  “Ah, Mrs. Stone. You’re here.” Mr. Humphreys was a tall man with a little potbelly. He had a wispy blond mustache and had trouble keeping his thick eyeglasses up where they belonged. They kept sliding down his oily nose. “Why don’t we all come in my office and discuss this?”

  Elizabeth rolled her eyes and got to her feet, sighing as she stood up. It was the official teen sigh, a protest against the stupidity of adult rules and regulations.

  Lucy flashed her a warning glance and stepped into the office. Elizabeth followed, and Mr. Humphreys shut the door behind them. He oozed across the room and seated himself behind his desk, giving them a little smile. Lucy felt itchy all over.

  “Ah, Mrs. Stone. I’m afraid what we have here is a very regrettable situation. Elizabeth was found in possession of a prescription drug, and she distributed it to a fellow student.”

  “It’s my asthma inhaler, and I gave it to Chantal because she couldn’t breathe and was turning blue.” Elizabeth spat the words out.

  “But the problem is that students are not allowed to carry prescription drugs without a note from the doctor. I checked with Mrs. Irving, the school nurse, and it seems you are not authorized to carry an inhaler. There is no doctor’s note in your file.”

  “Surely that’s a technicality,” said Lucy. “I can tell you that Elizabeth has asthma and her allergist has prescribed medication, including inhalers. She is supposed to carry one all the time in case she needs a quick fix.” Ooh, she thought to herself, that didn’t sound good.

  “That’s very well and good, Mrs. Stone, but Elizabeth neglected to request a drug authorization form from Mrs. Irving and did not have the form completed and returned by the doctor. She is in clear violation of school policies. But what disturbs me even more is that she distributed a potentially dangerous drug to another student.” Mr. Humphreys pursed his lips and fixed his eyes on Lucy, peering over his thick horn-rims.

  “Now, Mr. Humphreys, you know as well as I do that there’s a big difference between sharing an inhaler and selling crack cocaine. I’m sure Elizabeth was only trying to help—the girl was having trouble breathing.”

  “That’s right!” interjected Elizabeth. “Mom, Chantal was really in trouble. Her fingernails were turning blue.”

  “Elizabeth has had attacks herself and has been taught to manage them,” said Lucy. “It sounds to me as if she did exactly the right thing.”

  “Is Elizabeth a doctor?” Mr. Humphreys inquired sarcastically. “Is she qualified to prescribe drugs? I think not.”

  “Of course not,” said Lucy, trying very hard to remain polite. “But only a handful of drugs are used to treat most asthma cases, and the inhalers are clearly marked by color. Kids who have asthma all know that the yellow inhaler is for emergencies. Considering Elizabeth’s excellent academic record and the fact that she’s never been in trouble before, I think you ought to make an exception in her case.”

  Mr. Humphreys made a tent of his fingers and slowly shook his head from side to side. “Mrs. Stone, our school board has adopted a zero tolerance policy toward drug use. That means there are absolutely no exceptions. That’s what zero tolerance means. I don’t think there is anything to be gained by continuing this discussion. Elizabeth clearly violated school policy as stipulated in the handbook. She will be suspended for two weeks and a report will be forwarded to the police department.” He gave a little nod. “You can expect the police will want to conduct a thorough investigation.”

  “That’s not fair!” Elizabeth was on her feet.

  Mr. Humphreys glared at her from his seat. “Two weeks suspension plus one day, for disorderly behavior.”

  “Come on, Elizabeth.” Lucy wrapped an arm around her shoulder and led her out of the office. “Let’s get out of here.”

  As soon as they were in the hallway Elizabeth completely lost control. She jumped up and down in fury and shook her head, the sleek sophisticated hairdo began to fray as clumps of hair worked loose.

  “Come on, baby. You can do that at home. In fact, I’ll join you. But now we’ve got to get out of here before they call the cops on you.”

  “Mom, this is so unfair! I saved that girl’s life. I did. She was in real trouble, and the teacher, it was a substitute, wouldn’t let her go to the nurse’s office and kept telling her to stop making a scene. If I hadn’t given her my inhaler, she would have passed out for sure.”

  “I know you did the right thing.” Lucy hugged her. “I’m proud of you. I’ll always be proud of you. And we’ll figure this thing out. In the meantime, look on the bright side,” she said, pushing open the school doors. “You don’t have to come back for two weeks.”

  Elizabeth shrugged and thumped down the steps in her clunky platform shoes.

  Behind them, inside the school, Lucy heard the bell ring. She quickly followed Elizabeth to the car, hurrying to stay ahead of the flood of students that would soon come pouring out of all the exits.

  The car was blocked in by a line of school buses, so Lucy and Elizabeth couldn’t leave. They sat, watching as a steady stream of students flowed down the steps and onto the buses, keeping an eye out for Toby. When they spotted him, Lucy honked and Elizabeth stuck an arm out the window and waved.

  “Hi, Mom. What are you doing here?”

  “Elizabeth got suspended.”

  Toby’s eyes almost popped out of his head, but he quickly recovered and climbed in the backseat, forgoing the usual argument about who was going to ride in the front seat.

  “Good going, Lizzie. You were probably tired of being on the honor roll, anyway.”

  “Shut up,” growled Elizabeth.

  “Be nice, children,” said Lucy, easing into the flow of traffic as the school buses began moving. As they inched along, Lucy replayed the meeting with Mr. Humphreys in her mind, deciding the whole thing was ridiculous. Ridiculous, she thought, and dangerous. She didn’t like it one bit.

  * * *

  Neither did Bill when he heard the whole story at dinnertime.

  “Elizabeth, it serves you right. This whole thing could have been avoi
ded if you’d simply followed the rules and gotten a note from the doctor,” he said, taking a big forkful of meat loaf and mashed potatoes. “But, frankly,” he added, glowering at Toby, “you’re not the one I thought would get in trouble for drugs.”

  Just then the phone rang, and he got up to answer it. When he returned to the table, he looked a bit shamefaced.

  “That was Mrs. Williams, Chantal’s mother. She said she wanted to let us know how much she appreciated Elizabeth’s quick thinking. She’s convinced Elizabeth saved Chantal a trip to the hospital.”

  Later, while the kids did the dishes, Lucy and Bill remained at the table, drinking their coffee.

  “What do we do? Do we fight this?” asked Lucy.

  “I don’t get it,” said Bill. “From what Mrs. Williams said Elizabeth ought to be a hero. Instead, she’s suspended. It’s crazy.”

  “Mr. Humphreys said he’s referring it to the police.” Lucy furrowed her brow. “Maybe I should call Barney.”

  “Wouldn’t hurt,” agreed Bill. “And in the meantime, I’m going to have a talk with Toby, mano a mano. He’s got to understand that if he keeps messing around with pot, he could get in real serious trouble.”

  He cocked an eyebrow and grinned at Lucy, and for a moment he reminded her of the college kid she’d fallen for so many years ago. A college kid who never passed along a joint at a party without taking a toke.

  Chapter Twelve

  7 days ’til Xmas

  When Lucy arrived at the police station on Thursday night to cover the sting operation she felt a bit uncomfortable. After all, until now no member of the family had been in trouble with the authorities. Tom Scott immediately put her at ease.

  “I received that report from the school concerning Elizabeth, and I don’t see anything for my department to investigate—she didn’t break any drug laws.” He gave her a big smile. “You ought to be proud of her—her quick thinking probably saved that girl an ambulance ride.”