Wedding Day Murder by Leslie Meier Page A

registered with in the invitations, so people will know what she wants. She’ll be showered with gifts.”
    â€œMaybe her friends in New York will give her a shower,” said Lucy.
    â€œI’m sure they will,” said Thelma. “But what about her Maine friends?”
    Sue shook her head and attempted a bright little laugh. “Most of her Maine friends are probably in New York. Believe me, bright kids don’t stick around here. They go to college and move on. They don’t come back.”
    â€œShe must have some friends here,” insisted Thelma.
    â€œThere’s Molly Thacher,” said Lucy, grinning mischievously. “She already has three kids, and I noticed they’ve added a carport to the trailer.”
    From his post at the corner of the deck, Sid broke his silence and laughed.
    Sue shot him a warning glance and turned to smile at Thelma. “We’ll just have to let you handle the shower when you go back to New York,” she said.
    â€œOh, didn’t I tell you?” Thelma clapped her hands together. “We’re not going back to the city. We’re staying right here until the wedding. Isn’t that fabulous?”
    â€œAbsolutely fabulous,” said Sue, tipping up her glass to get the last of the wine. “Seconds, anyone?”

Chapter Six
    E arly morning was Lucy’s favorite time of day. Then, before Bill and the kids were up, she could enjoy a few moments to herself. Sometimes she’d read the paper with her coffee, other days she was content to sit at the kitchen table watching the birds at the feeder hung from the old apple tree. This morning, goldfinches were breakfasting on the tiny seeds she had put out for them, perching momentarily on the feeder to extract a seed and then flying off in that bobbing way they had. With the bright yellow feathers and black wings they looked quite exotic, as if they’d be more at home in a rain forest than in her Maine backyard.
    Lucy was watching, amused, as two males vied for the same perch, when there was a knock at the door. Who could it be this early, she wondered, pulling her robe together over her nightgown and shuffling across the kitchen floor to the door. Pushing the red-checked curtain aside, she was surprised to see Thelma Davitz.
    â€œI know it’s a little early,” said Thelma when she opened the door, “but I just wanted to get a tiny peek at your gazebo. I hope you don’t mind.”
    Thelma, Lucy saw, was perfectly coiffed, abundantly bejeweled, and dressed in a beige suit at half past six in the morning.
    Seeing her check the clock, Thelma simpered and fluttered her hands. “It is a trifle early, I know, but there’s so much to do to plan the wedding. We don’t have a moment to waste, do we?”
    â€œI guess not,” said Lucy, clutching her bathrobe and wishing she’d bothered to look for the sash when she got up this morning. She heard the hiss and bubble of the coffeepot and asked Thelma if she’d like a cup.
    â€œOh, no,” said Thelma. “I can’t touch it. If I did, I’d never sleep. Besides, I have plenty of energy without it.”
    Lucy didn’t have that problem. “If you don’t mind, I’ll just grab a cup.”
    â€œJust bring it along,” said Thelma. “Or point me in the right direction. I don’t have time to spare this morning.”
    â€œPoint you where?” Lucy was having trouble concentrating.
    â€œTo the gazebo, of course.” Thelma was impatiently tapping her foot, shod in a pair of beige stilettos.
    â€œI’d better go with you,” said Lucy, giving up the idea of coffee. She had to figure out where Kudo had gotten to. She didn’t like to think what might happen if he encountered Thelma alone in the backyard.
    Lucy reached for Bill’s jacket, which hung on a hook next to the door, and jammed her feet, slippers and all, into a pair of men’s