Authors: Leslie Meier
Turkey Day Murder (12 page)
CHAPTER 14
“S
ara, will you get that?” Lucy was stripping the meat off the turkey carcass so she could make soup and her hands were too greasy to answer the phone.
ara, will you get that?” Lucy was stripping the meat off the turkey carcass so she could make soup and her hands were too greasy to answer the phone.
“It's for you,” said Sara, covering the mouthpiece with her hand. “It's Miss Tilley.”
Lucy felt exactly as if the teacher had called on her in class and she hadn't done her homework. She washed her hands and took the phone.
“You caught me up to my elbows in soup fixings,” said Lucy to explain the delay.
“Is that what you've been doing, making soup instead of finding out who killed Curt?”
“I've made some progress,” said Lucy. “I've eliminated Andy Brown from my list of suspects.”
“I wouldn't call that progress,” said Miss Tilley, adding a little snort. “Everybody knows the Browns are in New Yorkâthey were even on TV.”
“Well, I went out to the farm to make sure,” said Lucy, wishing she didn't feel quite so incompetent. “That's one thing I've learned, you know. When it comes to an investigation like this, you can't take things for granted. You have to check and double-check everything.”
“Maybe you'd like to double-check this,” snapped Miss Tilley. “Rachel's here, you know, and she told me the police have some solid evidence. It's supposed to be very hush-hush but the police chief told Bob, Rachel's husband. Those two are thick as thieves, you know, Bob being a lawyer and all.”
“What kind of evidence?”
“Rachel didn't know but she said it's something important.”
“I wonder what it is,” said Lucy.
“I thought you'd be interested,” said Miss Tilley, sounding smug. “Rachel also said that Bob had a meeting with Howard White and Jonathan Franke and some other people who are opposed to the casino. Bob told her they were shedding no tears over Curt.”
“I can see why,” said Lucy, remembering the pie sale. “Curt could have been quite an embarrassment to them. He was claiming the town couldn't use the zoning regulations to keep the casino out because they'd ignored them and given Andy Brown preferential treatment.”
“Of course they did,” said Miss Tilley. “Electric signs, a talking pumpkinâit's scandalous. I never could abide Howard White, you know. He's the sort who puts overdue library books in the book return slot so he won't have to pay the fine. Sneakyâthat's what I'd call him.”
Lucy couldn't help smiling at this proof of Miss Tilley's willingness to think the worst of everyone.
“Oh, Howard seems okay to me,” said Lucy. “And he's right. It was all by the book. Brown applied for variances, just the way he was supposed to.”
“Well, maybe you'd better do some of your double-checking,” said Miss Tilley, adding a humph. “If you ask me, I don't doubt for one minute that Howard White is capable of murder. He routinely returned books with broken backs.”
“I'll look into it,” said Lucy.
As she turned to put the heavy stock pot on the stove, Lucy's eye was caught by Elizabeth, who was making herself a cup of coffee. This was not the usual mussed-up version of herself that Elizabeth typically presented in the morning; today she had dressed and combed her hair before coming downstairs. She had even, Lucy noticed on closer inspection, applied mascara and eyeliner.
Lucy was dying to know what the occasion was, but she knew better than to ask. All would be revealed, she told herself, if she were patient. Biting her tongue, she wrapped the extra turkey meat into a neat package and tucked it in the refrigerator.
She was wiping off the counter when Toby and Matt staggered in, barefoot and unshaven, in the same rumpled T-shirts and jeans they'd apparently slept in.
“Do we have any eggs?” asked Toby. “Matt and I want to fry some up.”
“Sure. Help yourselves.”
Lucy poured herself a second cup of coffee and joined the girls at the table. Elizabeth, she noticed, was watching Matt as he and Toby jostled to open the refrigerator door.
“Would you make one for me?” asked Elizabeth.
Lucy's eyes met Sara's across the table.
“You never eat eggs!” exclaimed Sara.
“Is that true?” asked Matt, lifting up his shirt and scratching his stomach.
“Of course not,” said Elizabeth, furiously batting her eyelashes. “I love a well-cooked egg and I bet you know how to make them just right.”
“I am pretty good with eggs,” admitted Matt.
“Yeah, right,” said Toby, handing him the box. “Just try not to break all the yolks this time.”
“Sure thing. Elizabeth, how do you want yours?”
“Oh, over easy,” said Elizabeth, seductively drawling the words.
Lucy almost choked on her coffee. “So what are you guys going to do today?” she asked. “Are you going to the parade?”
“There's a parade?” Matt paused, holding an egg in his hand.
“Every year. Santa Claus comes.”
“The elves, too,” added Sara.
“Well, that is tempting,” said Matt, cracking the egg on the side of the pan. “But I think I'll pass.”
“Well, if you're looking for something to do, Pam Stillings told me they could use some help at the food pantry. It's open today and they're expecting quite a crowd.”
Toby and Matt nodded. “Sure. We can help.”
“I'll come, too,” said Elizabeth. “After all, I was the chairman of the canned goods collection at the high school.”
“You were?” Matt carefully lifted an egg with the spatula and flipped it over. “I bet it was very successful.”
“This year was the biggest ever,” said Elizabeth, coyly running her finger around her coffee mug. “Of course, it wasn't just me. I had a lot of help.”
Lucy couldn't take it anymore. She finished her coffee and went upstairs to make the bed.
“I think Elizabeth likes Matt,” said Lucy as she and Bill and the younger girls were driving into town to see the parade.”
“No way,” Sara said. “She told me he was a dork. Almost as much of a dork as Toby, but not quite because Toby is the king of the dorks.”
Sara had a way with words, thought Lucy.
“That's right,” chimed in Zoe. “She said Matt is Dork Number Two and Amy is Dork Number Three and Jessica is a bitch.”
“Zoe!” Lucy and Bill spoke in one voice.
“Well, that's what Elizabeth said.”
“She shouldn't have said it and you shouldn't have repeated it,” said Lucy. “Besides, I think she may have revised her opinionâat least concerning Dork Number Two.”
Bill parked the car on a side street, hoping to avoid the inevitable traffic jam that took place after the parade every year, and they walked along the sidewalk past neat white clapboard houses to Main Street. At the corner, they encountered Officer Barney Culpepper, who was standing behind a sawhorse and making sure no cars tried to sneak onto the parade route. The assignment wasn't very taxing and he had time to talk.
“Hi, Barney. It's a fine day for a parade, isn't it?” Lucy asked.
“Unseasonably mild,” he agreed. “They say it's that El Niño.”
“We'll get plenty of cold before winter's over,” said Bill.
“Mom, can we go ahead?” Sara was clearly bored with this adult conversation. “We'll wait for you right in front of the news store.”
“Okay. Catch you later.”
Barney gave his whistle a short blast and waved a Ford Explorer onto the detour.
“Never fails.” He shook his head. “There's always some that think they can drive right onto Main Street.”
Lucy shook her head at this example of human folly. She wanted to ask Barney about the new evidence Miss Tilley had told her about but didn't want him, or Bill, to suspect she was more than casually interested.
“Wasn't that awful about Curt Nolan?” she asked. “Killed in broad daylight, right here in town.”
Barney looked down at her from his considerable height. “I hope you're not planning on playing detective, Lucy. You'll just get yourself in a mess of trouble. Remember the last time at the lobster pound?”
Lucy shuddered at the memory and reached for Bill's arm, giving him a little squeeze. “No. I've given up investigating,” she said, telling herself it really wasn't a lie if she judged by the progress she'd made in the case so far. “I was just wondering if there was any new information I could pass along to Ted at the paper.”
“There was a press conference this morning at the station and Ted was there. Lieutenant Horowitz gave his usual spiel. âThe case is under investigation by the state police and we'll keep you informed.' Never gave us any credit at all, and it was our department that turned up the only piece of evidence that looks like it's worth anything.”
Lucy knew the local cops resented the way the state police took over investigations of serious crimes and rarely acknowledged the ability and expertise of local officers who often had firsthand knowledge of both the victims and perpetrators.
“Sounds like the same old story,” said Lucy, adding a sympathetic cluck. “You guys do all the work, but the state guys get the glory. It's really not fair. If you found something important, you should get the credit.” She paused, letting him think it over. “Whatever it was, it probably wasn't that important, huh?”
“It might be, might not. It all depends. It could link the killer to the crimeâthat's why Horowitz didn't want it to get in the papers. They're holding it back.”
Lucy knew this was standard procedure, but she couldn't help being curious.
“I won't put it in the paper, Barney. Promise. Scout's honor.”
He laughed. “We had some fun times when the kids were Cub Scouts together, didn't we? Hey, Bill, remember that chuck wagon you and I built for the Chuck Wagon Derby? It's still going strong.”
“That's great,” said Bill. “Of course, we built it to last.”
Lucy didn't like the turn the conversation was taking, “You really ought to tell me about the evidence, off the record, of course. That way I can make sure the department gets credit when the case is solved.”
Barney considered.
“You know you can trust me,” said Lucy.
He sighed. “Like I said, it might not be anything, but they did find a button in Nolan's hand.”
“A button? What kind of button?”
“Leather, I think. Kinda woven. You know the type. 'Course it might've been dropped there by anybody and he just happened to pick it up. It didn't have to come from the murderer.”
“That's probably what happened,” said Lucy, determined not to show her excitement at getting the information. “But you never know.”
“We'd better get a move on,” said Bill. “We don't want to miss the parade.”
“Have a nice time now,” said Barney, raising his hand to halt a pickup truck.
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When Lucy and Bill found the girls, standing just where they had said they'd be, Sara was holding a big pink cone of cotton candy.
“You're going to ruin your teeth,” scolded Lucy. “It's nothing but sugar, you know. Empty calories.”
“Want some, Lucy?” asked Bill.
“Sure.”
Soon she was happily enjoying the way the cotton candy melted on her tongue and watching the other people in the crowd waiting for the parade to start. That was one thing about living in a small town like Tinker's Cove: Even if you didn't know everybody by name, almost everyone looked familiar.
“When's it gonna start, Mom?” Zoe asked.
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