Christmas Cookie Murder. Leslie Meier

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СКАЧАТЬ jackets so they could all go out for some fresh air. While they did that, she cleared up the snack things and gave the table a quick wipe.

      By the time she joined them, the kids had done a pretty good job with their coats. She knelt down and helped them with zippers and buttons, and made sure they had their mittens on. Then she slipped into her own coat and led the little line over to the door. She was just about to open it, when Officer Barney Culpepper’s face appeared in the glass window.

      “Hi, Officer Culpepper,” she said, opening the door. “What can we do for you today?” She assumed he was there for one of the many safety programs he presented at local schools—maybe bike safety, or stranger danger. So did the kids, who clustered around him, demanding to see his walkie-talkie. But today Officer Culpepper wasn’t smiling, his St. Bernard jowls were drooping and he looked very grim.

      “Go on outside, children. It’s playtime,” said Lucy. “Officer Culpepper will be back another day.”

      “What’s the matter?” asked Lucy, fearing that his wife, Marge, had taken a turn for the worse.

      “Where’s Sue?” Barney looked through the doorway. “I need to talk to her.”

      “At the hospital. Will Scott had an asthma attack. Can I help you?”

      “Maybe.” Barney took off his blue cap and scratched his brush cut. “I probably shouldn’t tell you but, heck, it’s gonna be all over town soon enough, anyway.” He held the cap in his hands and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Finally, he spoke. “Tucker Whitney was killed this morning. A neighbor noticed her front door was open and called 911. The responding officer found her dead, inside the house.”

      Lucy collapsed against the doorframe, feeling as if she’d been punched in the stomach. “I can’t believe it. I just saw her last night.”

      “It’s terrible.” Barney shook his head.

      Lucy’s mind was in a whirl, trying to understand how a healthy young girl like Tucker could be dead. “Was it an accident?”

      “Doesn’t look like it. They’re not saying anything until the medical examiner is through, but it sure looks like murder.”

      “How?” Lucy asked in a small voice.

      “She was strangled. At least that’s what they think.”

      “Oh my God.” Lucy closed her eyes and leaned against the doorjamb. Then, hearing a shriek from the play yard, she was reminded of her responsibilities.

      “Justin, Matthew—one at a time on the slide, please,” she said, struggling to keep her voice level.

      She looked up at Barney, blinking back tears. “I just can’t believe it. Who would do such a thing?”

      Barney shook his head sadly. “It’s early, still. I don’t know if they have any suspects, yet. I came to see if she had an address book or anything like that here—they didn’t find anything at her place.”

      “I don’t know. I think she used the desk by the window. You can look around.”

      “Thanks, Lucy. I’ll be out of your way in a minute.”

      “No problem.”

      Shoving her hands in her pockets, Lucy strolled out to the play area. It wasn’t too cold, maybe thirty-five degrees, and it was bright and sunny, but Lucy felt chilled to the bone. The kids didn’t seem to mind the cold one bit. The boys were scrambling up the ladder and shrieking as they went down the slide, a couple of the girls were bouncing on plastic horses fastened to sturdy springs. Two others were going up and down on the seesaw. It all seemed so normal. A typical day at the day-care center. Maybe it was, she thought, finding comfort in denial. Maybe she’d imagined the whole thing. Barney hadn’t come, and Tucker was still alive.

      “Thanks, Lucy,” came Barney’s voice, from over the fence. She turned and saw him, tipping his hat at her. “I’ll be on my way now.”

      She lifted her hand to wave and a dark wave of grief overwhelmed her, like clouds rolling in and blotting out the sun. She sat down on a bench and watched the children play, but they seemed very far away, and their voices were muffled. It was only when she heard the steeple bell at the community church tolling the noon hour that she realized it was time to go inside for lunch. Otherwise, she didn’t know how long she might have sat there.

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