Chocolate Covered Murder by Leslie Meier

Wilkersons.”
    â€œBut why? They’re so cute.”
    â€œLike I said, I can’t elaborate. Regulations. But trust me. You don’t want to look foolish, now.”
    â€œOkay.” Lucy crossed the Wilkersons off her list. “What about the MacDonalds? The people with the farm stand.”
    Wilf shifted his weight from one sturdily booted foot to the other. “Don’t think so.”
    â€œOh.” Lucy crossed off another name. That left her with the Sturtevants.
    â€œOh, gosh, no!” exclaimed Wilf, vehemently.
    â€œWhat? They seem very happy,” said Lucy, who often saw them walking their dog, an aged schnauzer.
    â€œToo happy, if you ask me,” said Wilf, with a leer.
    â€œYou can’t make an expression like that without telling us more,” said Lucy.
    â€œThat’s right,” added Phyllis. “Besides, you know you’ll tell me later and I’ll tell Lucy, so you might as well tell us both now and get it over with.”
    â€œWell,” Wilf began, in a low voice, “they get a lot of mail in plain brown wrappers, if you know what I mean. And you didn’t hear it from me.”
    â€œEeuw,” groaned Phyllis. “He’s eighty if he’s a day.”
    â€œAnd she’s got more whiskers than that dog,” said Lucy, crossing off the last name on her list.
    The fax machine was whirring when Wilf left and Lucy got up to get the message, which she figured was one of the lunch menus that arrived around this time every morning. Instead, she found that the funeral home had sent Max Fraser’s obituary.
    It was written in the usual flowery style, announcing that “Maxwell Fraser has passed over to that distant blessed shore where he will be joyously reunited with his mother Andrea and father Phil, Gramps and Gran, Uncle Harry and Auntie Maude.”
    Taking it back to her desk, she passed the stack of new papers, with her photo of the rescuers carrying the stretcher with Max’s body on the front page. She hoped he was enjoying the family reunion, but, personally, she had her doubts. She figured Max would rather be zooming from cloud to cloud on his snowmobile.
    She started typing the text, editing as she went. When she finished removing all the hyperbole and religious references, she was left with two short sentences. She had to have more so she reluctantly reached for the phone to call Max’s ex-wife, Dora. Dora had just answered when Bill arrived, toolbox in hand, to fix the door.
    â€œI’m so sorry to bother you at such a difficult time,” she began, after identifying herself, “but I need some information for Max’s obituary.”
    â€œIt’s no bother, heck, I oughta be glad he’s gone, right?” Dora sniffed. “That man was nothing but trouble.”
    Lucy knew Dora had a reputation for cracking jokes so she wasn’t surprised at Dora’s glib comment. There was something in Dora’s voice, though, that gave her pause.
    â€œI know you were divorced,” said Lucy.
    â€œRight. Seven years ago. But I couldn’t get rid of him. He kept turning up, like a bad penny. Worse than that. Like one of those coins you’ve got in your purse that you can’t quite tell what the hell it is, it’s all stuck with candy wrapper or something. Could be a penny, maybe a dime. You know you should get rid of it, but how?” She sighed. “That was Max.”
    Lucy found herself nodding in agreement. “Do you happen to know his mother’s maiden name? The funeral home left it out.”
    â€œGooch.”
    Lucy wasn’t sure if this was a joke or not. “Really?”
    â€œYeah.” Dora giggled. “She was a Gooch from Gilead.”
    Lucy suspected Dora was a bit hysterical and decided she better wrap the interview up. “What about Max’s education?”
    â€œHe graduated from Tinker’s Cove High, did a year in Orono at the