Christmas Cookie Murder #6 by Leslie Meier Read Free Book Online Page A

them that if they need a ride home, they should call you. No matter what the time. You’ll get them, no questions asked. Right?”
    A few heads around the room nodded, including Lucy’s. She and Bill had had that very talk with Toby just a few weeks ago.
    â€œWell, you know what?” demanded Andrea, who was shaking with rage and shame. “I am a good mother. I’ve done all those things. And my son was arrested. The lawyer tells me he’ll have a criminal record for the rest of his life. So don’t be so sure it can’t happen to you.”
    Stunned, the women were silent, staring at Andrea, who was wiping tears from her face. Nobody seemed to know what to say. Realizing she had a social disaster on her hands, Lucy hurried to Andrea, proffering a napkin printed with holly. She gave her a little hug and turned to face the group.
    â€œCome on, everybody. It’s time to swap those cookies. Remember, you can only take a half dozen of each kind. Okay?”
    The women picked up the empty baskets and cookie tins they had brought and formed a loose line that wrapped around the table. Only Andrea remained in the living room, being consoled by Tucker.
    â€œHave you ever seen anything like this?” cooed Juanita. “The cookies this year are better than ever.”
    â€œThey’re absolutely wonderful,” agreed Pam.
    â€œI don’t know how I’m going to keep them hidden until Christmas Eve,” confessed Lucy. From upstairs, she thought she heard the sound of the toilet flushing. Then she remembered Toby, hurrying upstairs with an especially purposeful expression. She held her breath, willing the aged pipes to cooperate, just this once.
    â€œWe have ours on Christmas Day with hot cocoa,” said Pam, counting six Chinese noodle cookies into a sandwich bag.
    â€œI take mine to my folks’ house,” said Lee. “We always have Christmas with them.”
    Lucy reached across the table to take some of Tucker’s cookies when she felt a drop of water on her hand. She looked up and, horrified, saw the dining-room ceiling beginning to sag, the plaster bulging with water.
    â€œI felt a drop,” said Lee. “Lucy, I think you have a leak…”
    Lucy was standing openmouthed, transfixed by the sight of the bulging plaster bubble growing even larger.
    â€œQuick! Pick up the table!” ordered Sue, taking in the situation. “We can carry it…”
    The women hurried to obey, struggling to lift the solid mahogany table Bill and Lucy had bought at an estate sale. But as Lucy watched, the drops of water began coming faster and faster, rapidly forming a trickle that in only a few moments more became a stream. Finally, just as the women were beginning to shift the heavy table, the plaster let go. It fell on the cookie-covered table with a thump, followed by a deluge of water that poured onto the table and then cascaded onto the floor, splashing everyone.
    â€œWow,” said Sue, wrapping an arm around Lucy’s shoulder and giving her a squeeze. “You sure know how to give one heck of a party.”

CHAPTER FOUR
    15 days ’til Christmas
    W ednesday morning, it took every bit of Lucy’s willpower to drag herself out of bed. All she wanted to do was to pull the covers over her head and forget everything—especially the cookie exchange.
    Once the flooding started, time had seemed to switch to slow motion. She remembered the horrified faces, and the polite assurances that “it didn’t matter one bit, we had a wonderful time, anyway” as the women departed, leaving her to face the sodden mess. Franny had offered to help clean up, but Lucy had sent her on her way, preferring to handle it herself.
    Bill had helped, holding a big trash bag open for her so she could dump the ruined cookies into it. It almost made her cry, thinking of all the work the soggy cookies represented, all those expensive ingredients gone to