Birthday Party Murder by Leslie Meier

weeks.”
    â€œI know. I’ll get right on it. First thing tomorrow. After breakfast.”
    â€œSee you then,” trilled Sue.
    For a fleeting second Lucy envied Sue her leisurely lifestyle. Wouldn’t it be wonderful, she thought, to have oceans of time? Kudo nudged her knee, reminding her it was time for him to go outside. She reached down and scratched him behind the ears, then opened the door for him. Upstairs, she heard the girls squabbling. In the TV room, she heard the fanfare that announced Bill had switched on the evening news. Her life wasn’t perfect, she decided as she went to join him, but she wouldn’t have it any other way.
    â€œI guess we won’t be having salmon again,” she said, taking her usual seat on the couch. “I gave the leftovers to the dog and he’s in danger of exploding.”
    â€œBetter him than me,” said Bill, who was stretched out in a recliner with the newspaper.
    â€œYou know, I’m sorry about throwing the sleep-over at you like that. I didn’t mean to say it was okay without talking to you first. I got distracted and—”
    â€œThat’s what she does,” interrupted Bill. “It’s divide and conquer.”
    â€œAnd she never gives up until she gets what she wants.”
    â€œShe’s really getting to be a handful,” observed Bill. “I blame you. If you don’t watch it, that girl’s going to be out of control.”
    Lucy knew he wasn’t really serious, but she threw the ball right back at him anyway. “Me? What about you? Girls need a strong father.”
    â€œI couldn’t agree with you more,” said Bill. “But I’m getting too old for the job. I can’t keep up with her.”
    Lucy looked at him, taking in his work-roughened hands and his grizzled beard. It used to be a rich, chestnut brown.
    â€œAll joking aside, it’s true that we’re getting older. Both of us. Sometimes I worry about you, working all alone. What if you fell or something? Not to mention those power tools. If you had an accident, how would you get help? Don’t you think maybe it’s time to hire a helper?”
    She got up, intending to get the remote, but he grabbed her by the waist as she passed and pulled her into his lap.
    â€œDon’t you worry. I’m not over the hill yet.”
    â€œOw!” shrieked Lucy. “That hurts. I’ve got sore muscles from my age-defying workout.”
    â€œMy back’s a little stiff sometimes, I admit it,” continued Bill, nuzzling her neck. “But everything else works just fine.”
    â€œI know.” Lucy smiled naughtily. “Later for you, mister, but please, be gentle.”

Chapter Seven
    T he girls met for breakfast as usual on Thursday, but there weren’t very many laughs. Pam’s allergies were flaring up and she was miserable with a runny nose and red, puffy eyes. “It’s these spring flowers,” she explained, as she accepted a tissue from Sue. “I’m going to stop at the drugstore first thing and get something.”
    â€œThat’s terrible,” sympathized Rachel, who was taking a dark view of things since Sherman’s death. “We wait all winter for the flowers, and when they finally bloom you can’t enjoy them. It’s not fair.”
    Lucy was having a hard time following the conversation because her mind kept drifting to the various projects she’d taken on: Sara’s birthday sleep-over, the investigation, her job at the paper and the interview with Miss Tilley. Still determined to lose weight and get in shape, she’d ordered a low-calorie bowl of cereal with skim milk and she couldn’t help feeling deprived as she saw other customers eating heaping platters of eggs and pancakes. She practically growled when Sue asked if she was still planning on interviewing Miss Tilley after breakfast.
    â€œIt’s on the top of my list,”