Christmas Cookie Murder #6 by Leslie Meier Page B

accident?”
    â€œDoesn’t look like it. They’re not saying anything until the medical examiner is through, but it sure looks like murder.”
    â€œHow?” Lucy asked in a small voice.
    â€œShe was strangled. At least that’s what they think.”
    â€œOh my God.” Lucy closed her eyes and leaned against the doorjamb. Then, hearing a shriek from the play yard, she was reminded of her responsibilities.
    â€œJustin, Matthew—one at a time on the slide, please,” she said, struggling to keep her voice level.
    She looked up at Barney, blinking back tears. “I just can’t believe it. Who would do such a thing?”
    Barney shook his head sadly. “It’s early, still. I don’t know if they have any suspects, yet. I came to see if she had an address book or anything like that here—they didn’t find anything at her place.”
    â€œI don’t know. I think she used the desk by the window. You can look around.”
    â€œThanks, Lucy. I’ll be out of your way in a minute.”
    â€œNo problem.”
    Shoving her hands in her pockets, Lucy strolled out to the play area. It wasn’t too cold, maybe thirty-five degrees, and it was bright and sunny, but Lucy felt chilled to the bone. The kids didn’t seem to mind the cold one bit. The boys were scrambling up the ladder and shrieking as they went down the slide, a couple of the girls were bouncing on plastic horses fastened to sturdy springs. Two others were going up and down on the seesaw. It all seemed so normal. A typical day at the day-care center. Maybe it was, she thought, finding comfort in denial. Maybe she’d imagined the whole thing. Barney hadn’t come, and Tucker was still alive.
    â€œThanks, Lucy,” came Barney’s voice, from over the fence. She turned and saw him, tipping his hat at her. “I’ll be on my way now.”
    She lifted her hand to wave and a dark wave of grief overwhelmed her, like clouds rolling in and blotting out the sun. She sat down on a bench and watched the children play, but they seemed very far away, and their voices were muffled. It was only when she heard the steeple bell at the community church tolling the noon hour that she realized it was time to go inside for lunch. Otherwise, she didn’t know how long she might have sat there.

CHAPTER FIVE
    T o the children, the bells meant it was lunchtime. Shrieking, they ran for the door and tumbled inside.
    But to Lucy, they sounded like funeral bells, tolling the years of a life that was far too brief. Distracted, she went through the motions automatically, helping the children hang up their coats in the cubbies and telling them to wash their hands. Used to the routine, they were soon sitting at the table, waiting for Lucy to get their lunches out of the refrigerator and bring them to the table.
    They thought it was hysterical when she gave Justin’s blue lunch box to Harry; everyone knew Harry had a Power Ranger lunch box. Their laughter roused Lucy, and she reluctantly returned to the here and now, letting go of Tucker’s death for the time being.
    â€œAre you sure the Power Ranger lunch box is Harry’s?” she teased, peeking inside. “I see Oreos—I think it must be mine.”
    All the children laughed, except Harry, who appeared a bit anxious.
    â€œOops, I forgot,” said Lucy, slapping her hand to her head. “I didn’t bring any lunch today. This must be Harry’s!”
    With a big sigh of relief Harry took the box and opened it up. Like the other children he began arranging the contents on the table in front of him.
    Lucy went into the kitchen to get the milk and grabbed a few graham crackers for herself. After she poured the milk she sat with the children, nibbling on the crackers. She noticed that they all followed the same pattern: first they ate their cookies and fruit, after a lively trading session in which one fruit roll-up went for