New Year's Eve Murder. Leslie Meier

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СКАЧАТЬ of thing she would wear. Neither were the flowing and fluttering evening dresses constructed of torn bits of fabric and ribbon. None of the moms at her table seemed to know what to make of the molded foam dress with an additional pair of buttocks stitched onto the backside, a detail the announcer described as “humorous whimsy.”

      “Like I need a second one of those,” said Cathy.

      “That poor model doesn’t even have a first bottom,” said Ginny, giggling.

      But when the fashion show was over and they were ensconced in a limo with Ginny and Amanda en route to the hotel, Lucy discovered that Elizabeth had a very different reaction.

      “I’m too fat, Mom,” she said, sighing. “I should never have eaten all those Christmas cookies and stuff.”

      “Me, too,” said Amanda.

      “You look great,” said Lucy, firmly. “You both look great. You’re normal. Those models are freaks, and whether you believe it or not they’re putting their health at risk.”

      “That’s not true, Mom. Now they’re saying people who stress their systems by skipping meals actually add years to their lives.”

      “You can’t believe everything you read,” said Ginny.

      “That’s for sure,” said Lucy. “Besides, they do more than skip lunch to stay that thin. I wouldn’t be surprised if they smoke cigarettes and take amphetamines and diet pills.”

      “Mom, you don’t know that. You read it somewhere. So now who’s the one who needs to remember you can’t believe everything you read.”

      Lucy was tempted to retort but didn’t want to fight in front of Ginny and Amanda. Instead, she held her tongue as they pulled up to the gleaming steel and glass office tower. Looking up, she was suddenly thrilled and excited about the adventure ahead. She could hardly contain herself as she sat waiting for the chauffeur to open the door.

      Chapter Three

      THE YEAR’S BEST AND WORST LOOKS

      Lucy was standing with the other winners in the black-marble lobby, waiting for Camilla and the other editors who would escort them to the Jolie offices which occupied the eighteenth through twenty-first floors, when her cell phone rang.

      “How was the trip?” asked Bill.

      Just the sound of his voice made her feel homesick and she stepped apart from the others so she could have a private conversation. “Okay,” she said, staring out the window at the busy street. It was still snowing, producing a slippery gray slush on the sidewalk and roadway. “New York is a lot different from Tinker’s Cove. How’s everything at home?”

      “Everything’s fine. We’re all great. The girls went ice skating on the pond. They say the new skates are terrific.” He paused. “Did you talk to Elizabeth about taking some time off from school?”

      “She might not have to. It turns out the magazine is giving ten thousand dollars to the best makeover team. It’s a contest.”

      “No way!”

      “Way,” said Lucy, watching a fashionably dressed woman striding along in impossibly high heels despite the slippery sidewalk. “and after seeing the others I think Elizabeth and I have a pretty good chance of winning.”

      “How come?”

      “I don’t think the others are as desperate for the money as we are. Take the pair from California, for example. The daughter wants a new car, but the mom is pretty laid back and relaxed. The only others who expressed any serious interest in the money are from North Carolina, and they say they’ll give it to their church if they win.”

      “The others aren’t interested?” Bill sounded doubtful.

      “I honestly don’t think the girls from Texas are. They already seem to have more money than they know what to do with. That leaves the New Yorkers, Maria and Carmela. I don’t know much about them yet so I’m keeping an eye on them, and the midwesterners.” Lucy paused, thinking about Ginny and Amanda. “They’re very polite, and polite doesn’t win contests.”

      Bill chuckled. “I didn’t know you were such a cutthroat competitor yourself.”

      “I’m desperate. I’ll do anything to win.”

      “If you’re really serious about this, I’ve got some advice for you. You know that TV show, Survivor? The winners often form alliances with other players to gain an advantage. They help each other wipe out the competition.”

      “But there’s only one prize. Why would you help somebody else win?”

      “Because they’ll help you in return. Two are better than one.”

      “And three’s a crowd,” said Lucy. “That’s what my mother used to say.” She lowered her voice. “I’m worried about Elizabeth,” she whispered. “She hardly ate a bite of breakfast.”

      “Maybe she wasn’t hungry.”

      “She thinks she’s fat.”

      “That’s crazy. She’s skin and bones.”

      “I know, but they had this fashion show today and the models were even skinnier than she is so she’s decided she needs to lose weight.”

      “It’s probably just a phase,” he said, sounding distracted. In the distance she heard muffled shouts. “Sorry, honey, I’ve got to go. The girls say the dog knocked over a lamp.”

      Lucy closed the phone and replaced it in her purse, thinking over Bill’s advice. The editors had finally arrived and were shepherding the group through the security checkpoint, where a guard was peering into each woman’s purse with a flashlight. Who would make the best accomplice, she wondered, hurrying to join them.

      Boarding the elevator, she gave Elizabeth a nudge. “Look, I found this protein bar in my bag. Why don’t you have a bite or two, just to keep up your strength.”

      Elizabeth glared at her. “You’re embarrassing me, Mom,” she hissed. “It’s bad enough you’re wearing those duck boots, but now you’re fussing at me.”

      “These boots are practical,” muttered Lucy, heading for the revolving door.

      “Will you shut up if I take the bar?” asked Elizabeth, when they’d exited onto the eighteenth floor into the magazine’s reception area.

      “You have to eat half of it,” insisted Lucy, trying to hide her disappointment. She’d expected the Jolie office to look like something out of the movie Funny Face but instead of glamorous chic pink décor there was only utilitarian, understated beige. The receptionist, a mousy little thing who seemed to physically quail under Camilla’s gaze, gave them a lukewarm smile as they all filed past.

      Camilla stopped suddenly and held up a hand, causing a bit of awkward bumping as the women in back came to a halt.

      “Okay.” Elizabeth carefully unwrapped the bar and took a bite, chewed slowly and finally swallowed.

      Lucy СКАЧАТЬ