Trick or Treat Murder by Leslie Meier Page A

and everything else was pushed aside. Bit by bit, however, order and routine returned and things fell into place.

    The one thing Lucy had worried about most hadn't happened. She had feared that the other children would be resentful of the baby. To her surprise, however, they had taken the new arrival in stride. Toby and Elizabeth were too busy with their friends and school work to be jealous, and Sara was enjoying her new role of big sister. She had even taken photos of the baby to school for show and tell.

    All in all, Lucy thought things had turned out better than she had expected. Refusing to think of the unmade beds upstairs, or the piles of dirty laundry in the basement, die congratulated herself for managing so well. Bill was out at his first historical society meet-ing, Sara was minding Zoe in the family room while she watched TV, Toby and Elizabeth were doing homework at the dining-room table. Deciding she deserved a reward, Lucy pulled a chocolate bar out of the secret stash she kept in the freezer and dialed Sue's number.

    "Hello," said Sue.

    "Mmmph," responded Lucy. She was working on a rather large chunk of frozen chocolate.

    "You'll never lose those extra baby pounds if you don't stop stuffing your face all the time," scolded Sue.

    "I was treating myself. After all, I did work out this afternoon," said Lucy, defending herself. "So how's the party coming along?"

    "Not bad. Pam Stillings is going to make her famous black punch and she's going to freeze gummi worms in an ice ring."

    "Sounds delicious."

    "The art classes at the high school are carving pumpkins and making decorations. The Junior Woman's Club is organizing games, and the football boosters are lending us their popcorn machine. The Rotary are handling the apple bobbing—apparently Andy Brown, the guy who owns Farmer Brown's fruit stand, is one of their members. It's all coming together. This Saturday the Scouts and the cheerleaders and anybody else who wants to help are cleaning out the mansion. Can you come, and bring Bill with his hammer, in case there are any loose boards or anything?"

    "Sure. What time?"

    "Ten?"

    "That's good. Sounds like you're really working hard on this."

    "Mostly phone calls. I'm delegating. Everybody seems eager to help. Nobody's turned me down. In fact, people have started calling me and offering to help."

    "That's great. You'll never guess who paid me a surprise visit."

    "Monica's husband?"

    "How'd you know?"

    "I've been on the phone all afternoon," Sue explained. "I heard he was in town. Pam said he looks terrible. He must be taking this very hard."

    "That's what I thought at first, but now I'm not so sure. He seemed more inconvenienced than grief stricken. I got the impression he and Monica hadn't been getting along lately."

    "Really?"

    "He came right out and told me that he and Monica had a fight, and that's why she was at the Homestead."

    "Could be. It's too bad they didn't have a chance to make up."

    "Maybe Roland didn't want to make up. Maybe he wanted her out of the way."

    "Lucy! How can you think something like that?" Sue was shocked.

    "Nine times out of ten it's the husband. He's the one who gave me the idea. He said he'd been married for thirty years and murder only gets you twenty."

    "He said that?"

    "I think it was a joke he was used to telling at parties—it just came out."

    "The poor man probably doesn't know what he's saying. Besides, what about the other fires? Somehow I can't picture him starting all those fires."

    "Me, either," agreed Lucy, thinking of the thwarted, repressed individuals the book portrayed as typical arsonists. "Maybe he knew about the fires and planned the murder hoping the police would include it with the others. Kind of a cover-up."

    "It must be awful to have a mind like yours—always suspecting the worst."

    "Well, my suspicions are not exactly unfounded. When I was buying my gym membership today a funny thing happened. Krissy, you know, the woman who owns