Valentine Murder (15 page)
Authors: Leslie Meier
“I will, I certainly will,” said Lucy, stumbling slightly as she left the room.
In the hallway she encountered a tall woman with gray hair, neatly dressed in a blue twin sweater set and a wool tweed skirt.
“You must be Lucy Stone,” she said, smiling warmly. “Gerald told me you would be coming. I'm Lucretia Asquith.”
“It's nice to meet you,” stammered Lucy. “I was just leaving.”
“I'll see you to the door, then. I hope you'll come back again soon so we can get to know one another.”
“Me, too,” said Lucy, hurrying out the door. She knew she was being rude, but she couldn't help it. She had an irrational urge to flee, to get away from that house and Gerald Asquith as fast as she could.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The Snow Queen lived in a beautiful castle made of ice.
O
nce she was safe in her car, driving over to the Orensteins' to pick up Zoe, Lucy considered her reaction to Gerald's comment. She must have misunderstood his meaning, she decided. He wasn't the sort of man who went around making threats; he had probably just been warning her not to get involved in a dangerous situation. He was probably sincerely worried about her.
nce she was safe in her car, driving over to the Orensteins' to pick up Zoe, Lucy considered her reaction to Gerald's comment. She must have misunderstood his meaning, she decided. He wasn't the sort of man who went around making threats; he had probably just been warning her not to get involved in a dangerous situation. He was probably sincerely worried about her.
Worry, as she well knew, wasn't always entirely rational. And the situation at the library would have to be especially distressing to the older, more conservative board members, like Gerald. Nothing like this had ever happened before. It must seem to Gerald that his formerly sedate and ordered world had suddenly turned topsy-turvy.
What she needed, what they all needed, she decided as she turned into the Orensteins' driveway, was time to gain a little perspective on the situation.
“You're here already?” exclaimed Juanita, as she opened the door. “I had no idea it was so late.”
“No problems, then?”
Juanita waved her hand, dismissing the very idea. “Not with these twoâthey get on like a house afire. They've been playing in Sadie's room all morning.”
“That's terrific,” said Lucy. “It's our turn nextâmaybe Sadie can come over one day next week?”
The fine weather continued to hold as Lucy and Zoe drove home. There wasn't a cloud in the sky and the temperature was a balmy 30 degrees according to the revolving sign in front of the bank. After lunch, she decided, they'd have to get outside for some fresh air. It would do them both good.
Lucy noticed the blinking light on the answering machine when she got the plates out of the cupboard, and listened to her messages while she made tuna sandwiches for herself and Zoe.
“Hey, Lucy, Ted here. I'd like to use your gambling story in next week's paperâlet me know when it will be ready, okay?”
Jeez Louise, thought Lucy guiltily. With everything that had happened lately she had forgotten all about the story. The research was all doneâshe just had to write the darn thing. Maybe she'd have a chance to work on it later this afternoon.
“Lucy, it's me,” began the next message and Lucy recognized Sue's voice. “I got a flyer from the Portland Galleriaâit's that time of the year again. How about shopping 'til we drop this weekend? Either Saturday or Sunday is fine with me. Give me a call, will ya?”
Lucy smiled. She always enjoyed shopping with Sue, who was an expert at sniffing out bargains. And this was a terrific time to find them, now that the stores were holding their big clearance sales.
She began a mental list as she set the plates on the table and poured two glasses of milk. Bill needed some new long underwear, Elizabeth needed pajamas and hadn't gotten any for Christmas, Toby needed socks. They could use some new towels, and she'd love to have a new dress to wear for her Valentine's Day dinner with Bill at the Greengage Cafe.
“Did you have a nice time at Sadie's this morning?” she asked Zoe.
“Sadie has Diamond-Dazzle Barbie. She has a crown. And the matching Ken has a shiny silver jacket.”
“Wow,” said Lucy, who could just imagine the total effect. “They must be . . . beautiful.” “Not Ken,” Zoe corrected her. “He's handsome.”
“Handsome is as handsome does,” recited Lucy. “Does he behave himself?”
“He does whatever Barbie says.”
Lucy couldn't help chuckling at this glimpse of Zoe's ordered imaginary universe, in which the newest, most glamorous Barbie was the indisputable queen of all she surveyed.
“Next week when Sadie comes you can play with your new Barbieâwhat's she called? Extremely Emerald?”
“No, Mommy. She's Emerald Elegance.” Having straightened up that little misunderstanding, Zoe slid down from her chair and trotted off to the family room to save Funny Bunny from the evil electronic elves.
Standing at the kitchen sink, Lucy looked out the window at Red Top Hill. Thanks to the strong sunlight and the mild temperature, a few bare patches of asphalt were beginning to appear on the icy road. The steep hill just beyond the driveway was still covered with snow, however. They were the last house on the road and hardly anyone drove past this time of year; even the school bus turned around rather than following the hilly twists and turns that led past Blueberry Pond and eventually back to town.
For a moment, as she regarded the snowy hill, Lucy was a little girl again, tucked safely between her father's arms as he guided their speeding six-foot Flexible Flyer past the snowmounded cars lining the still city street and took her swooping down Reservoir Road. She screamed all the way, she remembered, and he thought she had been frightened. No, she told him, she was screaming because it was so much fun.
Shutting the dishwasher door, Lucy decided that Funny Bunny would be there tomorrow and every other day, but the conditions on Red Top Hill Road were rarely this ideal for sliding.
“Come on, Zoe,” she called. “We're going to see just how fast we can get my old sled to go.”
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The paint had worn off the old Flexible Flyer years ago, and the rope was frayed, but the runners were still bright silver thanks to the coating of oil Lucy rubbed on them every time she put the sled away.
“Won't it be dangerous in the road, Mommy?” asked Zoe.
“I don't think so,” said Lucy, standing at the top of the hill and surveying the situation. As she thought, yesterday's light snowfall on top of the tightly packed snow beneath it would provide an ideal sliding surface. The fresh snow was just beginning to soften up and it would give them just the slippery surface they needed for maximum speed. “Nobody's been along here all day, and even if somebody comes they'll have to drive pretty slowly,” said Lucy. “We'll have plenty of time to see them.”
“Okay,” said Zoe, with the solemnity of an Olympic contender. “I'm ready.”
“Me, too,” said Lucy, settling herself on the sled and tucking Zoe between her legs. Unlike her father, she preferred to go down feet first. She pushed off with her arms, and the sled inched along, gradually picking up speed until they were flying down the hill so fast that the snow-covered trees seemed to whizz by them. At the bottom, Lucy pushed the steering bar with her feet, hoping to brake into a neat circle. Instead, they rolled off into the snow, shrieking and laughing.
Lucy heard her joints creak as she got back on her feet and knew that her muscles would undoubtedly be sore the next day. That's what they invented ibuprofen for, she thought, as she brushed the snow off her face.
“Again?” she asked Zoe.
“Yes!” screamed the little girl, her eyes sparkling above applered cheeks. She took off, running up the hill, while Lucy followed more slowly, towing the sled.
An hour or so later, Lucy and Zoe were extracting themselves from some scratchy blueberry bushes when they heard the familiar groan of the gears on the school bus as it prepared to climb the other side of the hill. They ran up to meet it, waving at Moe, the bus driver.
“Mother, don't tell me you've been sliding,” said Elizabeth, twisting her lips into a scowl and rolling her black eyeliner-lined eyes. “Thank goodness none of my friends are still on the bus.”
“What friends?” Toby asked predictably. “You don't have any friends.”
“Do, too.”
“Who? Lard-face Lance?” teased her older brother, referring to Elizabeth's on-again, off-again boyfriend.
“You're disgusting,” said Elizabeth, turning her back and trudging off toward the house.
“Come on, Toby,” begged Sara. “Let's go sliding, too. It looks like fun.”
“It is fun,” said Zoe. “Lots of fun.”
Toby cast an expert eye at the hill. “You know, if we made a little bank of snow at the bottom, we wouldn't go into the bushes.”
“That's a good idea,” said Lucy, wondering why she hadn't thought of it herself. “I'll get the shovel and start while you get out the sleds and stuff.”
Soon Toby and Sara were spinning down the hill in snow saucers, and eventually even Elizabeth appeared, trying out the snowboard she got for Christmas.
Realizing that she was soaked to the skin, Lucy decided to go inside to warm up. Zoe wasn't ready to come in yet, and as Lucy climbed wearily up the hill one last time she smiled to see her littlest one whirling past on a saucer, safe in her big brother's arms.
Back inside the warm kitchen, she tugged off her snowencrusted hat and mittens and laid them on top of the radiator. Then her boots went in the tray by the door; she unzipped and peeled off her snowsuit, hanging it up in the pantry, next to the water heater. In the powder room, she brushed out her damp hair, hardly recognizing herself in the mirror. With her hat hair and red cheeks, she looked, she realized with a shock, just like the aging photographs of that little girl who went sledding with her father so many years ago.
She put a big pot of hot chocolate on the stove and opened the door to call the kids. Hearing the unfamiliar sound of an engineâa souped-up one at thatâshe stuffed her feet back into her boots and went out to investigate, drawing her sweater tightly across her chest.
As she ran down the driveway she heard the engine coming closer; it sounded to her like one of those pick-up trucks with oversized tires. It seemed to be coming from the direction of the pond, along the part of the road that wound through the woods.
She waved at her kids and called to them, but they weren't paying any attention. They didn't seem to be aware of the approaching truck. Toby was seating himself in one of the saucers and Zoe, she saw, was jumping in his lap. He had just pushed off with his arms, and began sailing down the hill, when the truck appeared on the other side, at the bottom of the hill.
Horrified, Lucy saw that it was going way too fast; the driver was probably hoping to build up enough speed to make it up the hill. Sara, standing at the crest, spotted the truck and began waving her arms, trying to warn the driver to slow down. Either he didn't see her, or decided to ignore her and sped up the hill right past her, directly toward the saucer.
Lucy covered her mouth with her hand and held her breath; there was nothing she could do but pray. Toby must have seen the truck by now, and realized the danger he and Zoe were in, but the saucer was impossible to steer. Once started down the hill, there was no way he could change its direction.
It was up to the driver of the truck to do something. “Stop! Stop!” she screamed, knowing there was no possibility that he could hear her. He must see the saucer, though. Why wasn't he stopping?
If only Toby could push the saucer out of the truck's pathâbut it was spinning toward it. It was only feet from the huge black tires of the truck, she realized, and tears sprang to her eyes. A horrible sound came from her throat, a high-pitched, keening scream.
Then, miraculously, she saw the saucer tip and curve away from the truck, spilling Toby and Zoe into the snow on the side of the road.
Never stopping, the truck hurtled past her, a roaring blur of black and chrome. Furious, she spun around and tried to make out the license plate, but it was covered with crusted ice.
Clenching her fists, she pounded them once against her thighs, then turned to the kids. They were fine, stamping their feet and shaking the snow out of their hats.
“Come on in,” Lucy called to them in a shaky voice. “I've made some hot cocoa.”
She stood there in the cold and growing dimness, watching as they plodded up the hill, towing their sleds and saucers. She wasn't chilled at all; she was furious. How could the driver of that truck have been so irresponsible? Could it be possible that he didn't see them?
Lucy didn't think so. There had been plenty of light and the kids were dressed in bright clothes; they were out in the open on the snowy hill. They were highly visible. In fact, she realized with a shock, it had almost seemed as if the driver had been driving directly toward them. But that was absurd, she thought. Nobody would do a thing like that.
Trudging back to the house, Lucy resolved to ask Barney if any of the local youths had a particularly reckless reputation, and a fancy truck to go with it. He would probably know who the driver was; he might even have a word with him.
Then again, perhaps she shouldn't report it. She wouldn't like to get some kid in trouble over some cold-weather high jinks.
That was ridiculous, she decided, marching along the driveway. She had her family to think of. She stopped dead in her tracks. Where had she heard that lately? From Gerald Asquith?
Oh, no. She brushed the thought away. This was an accident. A near miss by some kid with more horsepower than sense. There was no way Gerald could have had anything to do with it. No way at all.
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