Chocolate Covered Murder by Leslie Meier Page A

university.” She snorted. “He flunked out, of course. I used to tell him he majored in partying.”
    â€œHe was quite the sportsman,” prompted Lucy.
    â€œIf you call drinking a sport,” said Dora.
    Okay, thought Lucy, we won’t go there. “One child, Lily, right?”
    Dora’s voice softened. “Lily, yeah. Max got one thing right.”
    â€œWhat about clubs he belonged to? Church?”
    â€œRod and Gun, o’course. That’s all, I think.”
    â€œAwards?”
    â€œWell, he won that snowmobile race, practically bankrupted himself doing it.” Dora paused and Lucy heard her sniffling. “But if you ask me, I don’t think his death was any accident. Max was smart about some things. He knew how to take care of himself.”
    â€œDo you think he was murdered?” asked Lucy. Bill, who was removing the pins from the door hinges, paused and gave her a look.
    â€œI ... I ... I don’t know what to think.” And with that, Dora sobbed and hung up, leaving Lucy confused and wondering what she meant. She’d said she was glad Max was finally out of her life for good, but Lucy wasn’t convinced. There’d been something in her voice that indicated real sorrow.
    â€œYou’re awful quiet all of a sudden,” commented Phyllis, who was filing press releases by date in an accordion file.
    Bill was hanging a tarp over the empty doorframe in a feeble effort to keep out the cold while he planed the door. “I don’t want you getting involved, Lucy,” he said. “You better leave this up to the police. If Max was murdered, that means the killer could be right here in town. You don’t want to get tangled up with any murderer.”
    â€œOf course not,” said Lucy, deciding she could use some fresh air. “How about some hot coffee?” she asked. When Bill and Phyllis jumped at her offer, she got up and grabbed her anorak. Once she got outside, however, she had second thoughts. The snow was continuing to drift down and the sidewalk was slippery underfoot. She needed to move, though, so she started off in the direction of Jake’s. Normally she would drive even that short distance, but walking would burn a few calories and clean out her lungs. If the sun came out, she’d get a bit of vitamin D, but a glance at the cloud-covered sky made that a dim possibility. But most of all she wanted to think over what Dora had said.
    Max knew how to take care of himself.
    He sure did, thought Lucy, walking past the hardware store with its display of snow shovels in the window. And he’d been ice fishing on Blueberry Pond for years. He would certainly know where the soft tricky spots were. The ME said he’d gotten a knock on the head. How did that happen? Did he slip and fall, hitting his head? She supposed it was possible, but she doubted it. She’d seen the careful, deliberate way Max had worked to free her car and remembered how he’d checked it over, making sure it hadn’t been damaged. The more she thought about it, she decided as she reached Jake’s, the more likely it seemed that Max’s death was no accident.
    She was just leaving the café with her cardboard tray of coffees, one regular for Bill, one black with skim for Phyllis, and plain black for herself, when she met Frankie La Chance on the sidewalk. Frankie lived with her daughter, Sara’s friend Renee, on Prudence Path, off Red Top Road near the Stones’ house.
    â€œLucy! I’ve been meaning to call you,” exclaimed Frankie, in her charming French accent.
    â€œSame here,” said Lucy. “I understand Renee is working at Fern’s Famous along with my Sara.”
    â€œWhich means they will need rides,” said Frankie. “I am hoping we can carpool. What do you think?”
    â€œYou’re a lifesaver,” said Lucy. “What is your schedule like?”
    â€œIt’s all over the place, but