Mistletoe Murder Read Online Free Page B

again and bought him a fly-tying set, which was sure to be a big hit. She put a check next to his name.
    Below him on the list was “two moms,” hers and Bill’s, with a row of question marks next to them. Lucy fought down a rising sense of panic, scratched her head thoughtfully with her pencil, and added another question mark to the row.
    This afternoon she would finish Elizabeth’s angel costume, really just a sack with armholes made from an old sheet. With her long blond hair, a little tinsel, and wings provided by the church, Elizabeth would look lovely. She put a check next to “angel costume.”
    Looking over her list of toys for the children, Lucy decided there was no way around it. She had to work tonight, and that only left tomorrow, Saturday, for a final trip to the Tons of Toys store in Portland. She wrote “Sat” next to “toy store” and went on to the next item, “meals.” Just then the phone rang. It was Sue Finch.
    â€œSue, I was just going to call you! I had such a nice time last night, and it’s great having all those cookies in the pantry.”
    â€œThanks for coming and bringing those Santa’s thumbprints. Everybody loves them. Listen, Lucy, are you going to Sam Miller’s funeral?”
    â€œI want to,” said Lucy. “I’m sure it’s going to be the social event of the year in Tinker’s Cove. But I have to do some major Christmas shopping in Portland.”
    â€œSo come to the funeral with me and we’ll zip into Portland afterward. You’ll hate yourself if you miss it,” coaxed Sue.
    â€œOkay, great,” said Lucy. She hung up the receiver and called for Sara to come and put her jacket on.
    â€œCome on, honeybun. We’ve got to get some groceries.”
    Lucy enjoyed her little outings with Sara. She had just turned four, and she still loved going to the grocery store, the bank, or the story hour at the library with her mother. Before she knew it, Lucy realized, she’d have another touchy preteen like Toby to cope with.
    Sara and Lucy took their time strolling through the aisles at the IGA. They debated the relative merits of Cheerios and Lucky Charms and found a great deal on fabric softener, and Lucy decided that a package of cupcakes wouldn’t hurt just this once. When it was time to check out, Lucy saw her friend, Miss Tilley, standing in the checkout line behind Barb Cahoon, who was the mother of three basketball-playing sons and had the grocery order to prove it.
    â€œMiss Tilley, is that heavy cream in your basket? You shouldn’t be buying that.”
    â€œNonsense, I’ve had oatmeal with cream for breakfast every morning since I was a little girl. Hasn’t hurt me a bit. Of course, I’m only seventy-three years old.”
    â€œYou don’t look a day over eighty,” teased Lucy.
    â€œDon’t get smart with me, young lady,” retorted the old woman. “Now tell me . . . about this Sam Miller business. Who do you think killed him?”
    â€œI haven’t got the foggiest idea,” answered Lucy, tucking a stray clump of hair behind Sara’s ear.
    â€œI seem to remember that you love to read mysteries. I used to save the good ones for you at the library.” Miss Tilley had been the town librarian until the board of trustees finally gathered the courage to retire her forcibly on her eightieth birthday.
    â€œI don’t have time for mysteries these days. In books or in real life.” Lucy shrugged. “Everybody’s saying Marcia killed him.”
    Miss Tilley raised an eyebrow. “Why do folks think that?”
    â€œI guess because it’s the usual thing. Husbands and wives usually kill each other.”
    â€œI wouldn’t know,” observed Miss Tilley. “I’ve never been married. I would imagine he was killed by someone who had something to gain by killing him.”
    â€œWell, Marcia might have gained