Wedding Day Murder

by Leslie Meier

  She was definitely going to have to do something, maybe exercise more or go on a diet she told herself, as she hurried out of the house and started the car. It was almost eight and she didn’t want to be late for breakfast with the girls.

  Calling themselves “the girls” was a joke—but the group of four women took their weekly Thursday morning breakfasts at Jake’s Donut Shack very seriously. All married with families and numerous commitments, they had discovered breakfast was easier to fit into their busy schedules than lunch.

  Pulling open the door at Jake’s, Lucy headed for the corner table in the back where they always met. As usual, she was the last to arrive.

  “We ordered for you,” said Sue Finch. “Your regular.”

  “Thanks,” said Lucy, slipping into her seat and reaching for the coffeepot. “I guess I’ll start my diet at lunch.”

  “You’re going on a diet? Which one?” asked Rachel Goodman, pushing her oversized glasses back up her nose. “I’ve heard that Zone diet is very good.”

  “Not if you care about your health,” said Pam Stillings, adjusting her macrame shawl. Pam had gone to Woodstock and had never quite gotten over it. “You can’t tell me that eating nothing but meat and cheese and butter is good for you?”

  “All you ever eat is brown rice and tofu,” observed Sue, checking her perfect manicure. Sue was a faithful Vogue reader and a borderline shopaholic.

  “Well, I like it,” replied Pam, tucking her long brown hair behind her ear. “And it’s good for you.”

  “I like it, too. I like everything. That’s my problem,” moaned Lucy. “What should I do? I could barely get my pants buttoned this morning.”

  “It’s all a matter of mathematics,” said Rachel, picking up her fork and diving into a big stack of pancakes. Rachel had majored in chemistry before dropping out of college to marry law student Bob Goodman. He was now a partner in an established Tinker’s Cove law firm. “You simply have to expend more calories than you consume.”

  “Exercise more and eat less,” translated Sue, stirring some artificial sweetener into her black coffee.

  “Look at her; she lives on nothing but coffee,” declared Pam, digging into her bowl of oatmeal. “You do that and pretty soon your metabolism slows down to nothing. It’s smarter to eat plenty of fiber. It makes you feel full.”

  “Well, if I’m going on a diet, I’ll need my strength,” said Lucy, as the waitress set an overflowing plate including a cheese omelet, sausage, home fries and buttered toast in front of her.

  “It’s not fair,” said Rachel, who was frighteningly well informed. “Did you know that our metabolism slows down seven percent every ten years? Figure it out: we need almost twenty percent less food than we did when we were twenty.”

  Lucy resolved to eat only half of her omelet, and to skip the fried potatoes and sausage.

  “That’s not the only thing that’s not fair,” said Sue. “I’m starting to get wattles under my chin.”

  Lucy’s hand reflectively went to her throat. Was it as firm as it used to be?

  “The skin on the back of my hands is getting so thin,” complained Pam. “They get all wrinkly when I bend my wrists back.”

  Lucy looked down at her hands. It was true, the skin wrinkled back like the Saggy Baggy Elephant’s.

  “Don’t you hate that?” sympathized Rachel. “But what I mind most are my disappearing lips. Where do they go? No matter how much lipstick I use, they just seem to curl under or something.”

  Lucy extended her tongue, tentatively. Her lips still seemed to be there.

  “No, the worse thing is that when I look in the mirror I look just like my mother,” said Sue.

  Lucy felt a shock of recognition.

  “Frightening, isn’t it? Not that I plan to follow in my mother’s footsteps. She’s addicted to plastic surgery. Just had her third face lift.” Rachel shuddered.

  “My mother weighed 250 pounds when she died,” said Sue, who probably wouldn’t hit the 120-pound mark on Doc Ryder’s scale. “But somehow, I still look like her.”

  “My mother was in denial,” confessed Lucy. “She dealt with aging by just pretending she looked the way she always had.” She paused, remembering. “She didn’t.”

  “My mom smokes like a fiend and drinks like a fish,” said Pam, shaking her head in amazement. “The only reason I can think that she’s still alive is that her liver is pickled and her lungs are smoked like hams.”

  “Thanks for the image,” complained Rachel, pushing her ham to the side of her plate. “I’ve lost my appetite, thank you.”

  “I guess the thing to do is learn from their mistakes,” Lucy said. “Mom neglected her looks and got all washed-out looking but I don’t have to let that happen. I’m picking up some hair color today.”

  The others nodded in agreement with Lucy, except for Rachel, who peered at them owl-like through her glasses.

  “Don’t you see what you’re doing?” she asked. “You’re all reacting to your mothers. Sue’s mom was fat, so she doesn’t eat. Pam’s mom smokes, so she not only refuses to smoke, she buys all her food at the natural foods store. Lucy’s mom didn’t take care of her looks, so Lucy’s resolved to cover her gray. We need to stop reacting. . . .” She paused, collecting her thoughts. Then she spoke. “Instead of reacting we need to formulate our own personal, positive paradigm for aging.”

  The others looked at her blankly.

  “What is it with her and the big words?” asked Pam. “Can any of you guys help me out and tell me exactly what a paradigm is and where you can get one?”

  They all laughed.

  “It’s a vision, a plan,” explained Rachel.

  “That sounds like an awful lot of work,” observed Lucy. “Maybe we just need better role models. Someone positive.” She thought for a minute. “Like Miss Tilley. How’s she doing, Rachel?”

  Rachel provided home care for Miss Tilley, the retired librarian who was the oldest resident of Tinker’s Cove.

  “She’s great,” said Rachel. “Same as always. You remember taking sociology in college? About inner-directed and outer-directed people? Well, Miss Tilley is the most inner-directed person I know. She just does what she does. You know, she eats the same meals for dinner every week?” Sue counted them off on her fingers. “Roast beef on Sunday, cold beef on Monday, chicken on Tuesday, shrimp wiggle on Wednesday, a chop on Thursday, chicken a la king on Friday and baked beans on Saturday.”

  “Actually, I didn’t take sociology,” said Pam. “And if I had, I probably wouldn’t remember it anyway. But I guess I’m inner-directed because we have spaghetti every Wednesday.”

  “It just means that she doesn’t care what other people think,” said Sue.

  “She’s just herself,” agreed Lucy. “There’s nobody like her.”

  “That’s exactly right,” agreed Rachel. “For example, she likes to wear a certain style of shoe. She’s worn it for years. Gets two pair every year mail order from the company. Well, they finally discontinued it. So she was looking through the catalog and these sneakers that light up when you walk caught her eye. For kids, you know. Well, she decided she had to have them. I told her they were for kids, that she’d look ridiculous. Didn’t faze her in the least. She told me she doesn’t have much excitement in her life anymore and she was going to get the sneakers. And she did.”

  Sue was incredulous. “She’s wearing sneakers that twinkle when she walks?” she asked.

  Rachel nodded. “She likes them so much she ordered two more pairs, in case they discontinue them.”

  “I’ll have to stop by and visit,” said Lucy. “This I’ve got to see.”

  “How old is she anyway?” asked Pam. “She must be getting up there.”

  “Actually, her ninetieth birthday is coming up.” Rachel drank the last of her coffee. “I think she’s feeling her age a little bit. Lately she’s asked me to help her go through her closets and drawers to clean things out. She’s also got a meeting coming up with Bob’s
partner, Sherman. He handles most of the older clients’ wills and things.”

  “Very sensible,” observed Pam. “After all, she can’t expect to live too much longer.”

  “Ninety years,” mused Lucy. “Think how much has changed in her lifetime. We’ve gone from long skirts and corsets to . . . Britney Spears!”

  When they all stopped laughing, Sue held up her hand. “I’ve got an idea,” she declared.

  They all moaned.

  “You’re going to love this,” she continued, gazing off into the distance. “Why don’t we have a birthday party for Miss Tilley? A really big party, you know, invite the whole town. Have the high school band and the chorus. She could arrive in a fire engine. After all, she is the town’s oldest resident and she was the librarian for so many years, absolutely everybody knows her.”

  “We could do a ‘This is Your Life’ show,” suggested Lucy. “Bring back people from her past, successful people she encouraged.”

  “I don’t know if she’d go for something like that,” cautioned Rachel. “She’s pretty reclusive; she likes her routine. She wouldn’t want to miss her shrimp wiggle. Plus, she doesn’t like attention.”

  Sue waved away that objection. “This is a woman who wears shoes that twinkle when she walks.”

  “I bet I can get Ted to put out a special edition of the Pennysaver,” offered Pam, referring to her husband and Lucy’s boss, the editor and publisher of the town’s weekly newspaper. “A commemorative edition chronicling her whole life. It will really be a history of the town during the twentieth century.”

  “That’s a great idea,” exclaimed Sue. “Are you all with me? May twentieth will be Miss Tilley Day!”

  She raised her water glass in a toast and they all joined in. “To Miss Tilley Day!”

  If you enjoyed WEDDING DAY MURDER

  and your visit to Tinker’s Cove,

  then please turn the page for a sneak peek

  at the rest of the Lucy Stone mysteries!

  MISTLETOE MURDER

  The First Lucy Stone Mystery

  As if baking holiday cookies, knitting a sweater for her husband’s gift, and making her daughter’s angel costume for the church pageant weren’t enough things for Lucy Stone’s busy Christmas schedule, she’s also working nights at the famous mail-order company Country Cousins. But when she discovers Sam Miller, its very wealthy founder, dead in his car from an apparent suicide, the sleuth in her knows something just doesn’t smell right.

  Taking time out from her hectic holiday life to find out what really happened, her investigation leads to a backlog of secrets as long as Santa’s Christmas Eve route. Lucy is convinced that someone murdered Sam Miller. But who and why? With each harrowing twist she uncovers in this bizarre case, another shocking revelation is exposed. Now, as Christmas draws near and Lucy gets dangerously close to the truth, she’s about to receive a present from Santa she didn’t ask for—a killer who won’t be satisfied until everyone on his shopping list is dead, including Lucy herself. . . .

  TIPPY TOE MURDER

  The Second Lucy Stone Mystery

  Between ballet lessons, Little League practice, carpooling her kids to school and a husband in need of attention, fourth-time mother-to-be Lucy Stone has more than enough on her plate this long, hot summer. But when one of her dearest friends vanishes, Lucy’s soft spot for a solid mystery gets the better of her. Dinner can wait. Tinker’s Cove, Maine’s most irrepressible sleuth has a job to do....

  An afternoon walk was a ritual for Caroline Hutton . . . until the retired ballet instructor took a detour into the woods and was never seen again. The case takes a turn for the worse when a local store owner takes a deathblow to the head with a video camera. Now, as Lucy’s own seven-year-old prima ballerina rehearses for her debut, a murderer prepares for an encore. The devoted mother and sleuth knows she mustn’t miss either performance. In fact, her life depends on it....

  TRICK OR TREAT MURDER

  The Third Lucy Stone Mystery

  It’s October in Maine and everyone in Tinker’s Cove is preparing for the annual Halloween festival. While Lucy Stone is whipping up orange-frosted cupcakes, recycling tutus for her daughters’ Halloween costumes, helping her son with his pre-teen rebellion and breastfeeding her brand-new baby, an arsonist is loose in Tinker’s Cove. When the latest fire claims the life of the owner of the town’s oldest house, arson turns to murder.

  While the townsfolk work to transform a dilapidated mansion into a haunted house for the All-Ghouls festival, the hunt for the culprit heats up. Trick-or-treat turns deadly as a little digging in all the wrong places puts Lucy too close to a shocking discovery that could send all her best-laid plans up in smoke....

  BACK TO SCHOOL MURDER

  The Fourth Lucy Stone Mystery

  It’s back-to-school time in the peaceful town of Tinker’s Cove, and for mother of four Lucy Stone, it isn’t a moment too soon. But trouble at the local elementary school soon has the sometime crime-solver juggling family, job and night classes with another mystery to solve. And it starts with a bang.

  A bomb goes off with the noon lunch bell, but not before all the kids are safely evacuated and Carol Crane, the new assistant principal, is hailed as a hero. But days later, Carol is found murdered and the most popular teacher at school is arrested for the crime. But Lucy isn’t buying the open-and-shut case and decides to uncover the real killer. . . .

  VALENTINE MURDER

  The Fifth Lucy Stone Mystery

  It’s Valentine’s Day in Tinker’s Cove. And while the cupcakes Lucy Stone is baking for her children will have pink frosting and candy hearts, Lucy’s thoughts aren’t centered on sugary sentiments. She’s barely arrived at her first board meeting of the newly renovated library when Bitsy Howell, the new librarian, is found dead in the basement, shot only minutes before story hour was to start. The agitated board members assume that Bitsy was killed by an outsider, until Detective Lt. Horowitz arrives on the scene and announces that the killer is among them.

  Lucy was already aware that Bitsy’s uppity big city ways rubbed some people in Tinker’s Cove the wrong way. But she has a hunch that motives for the librarian’s violent death run a lot deeper. From Hayden Norcross’s elegant antique shop to Corney Clark’s chic kitchen, Lucy relentlessly snoops into the curious lifestyles and shocking secrets of Tinker’s Cove’s most solid citizens—secrets that will plunge her into a terrifying confrontation with a conniving killer. . . .

  CHRISTMAS COOKIE MURDER

  The Sixth Lucy Stone Mystery

  For Lucy Stone, the best thing about Christmas in Tinker’s Cove has always been the annual Cookie Exchange. A time-honored holiday tradition in the little Maine village, the festive occasion brings together old friends and new to share laughter, gossip, and of course, dozens of the best cookies you’ve ever tasted. From Franny Small’s chocolate and peanut-encrusted Chinese Noodle Cookies to Lydia Volpe’s famous pizzelles and Andrea Rogers’s classic sugar cookies, the sweets are always piled high.

  But the usual generosity and goodwill is missing from this year’s event which turns out to be a complete disaster. Petty rivalries and feuds that have long been simmering finally come to a boil, leaving feelings hurt and a bad taste in the mouths of many guests, including Lee Cummings who accused Tucker Whitney—the young, beautiful new assistant at the day care center—of stealing her recipe for low-fat, sugar-free cookies. But the icing on the cake is when Tucker is found strangled in her apartment on the following morning. Now Lucy’s busy counting suspects instead of calories.

  TURKEY DAY MURDER

  The Seventh Lucy Stone Mystery

  Tinker’s Cove has a long history of Thanksgiving festivities, from visits with TomTom Turkey to the annual Warriors high school football game and Lucy Stone’s impressive pumpkin pie. But this year, someone has added murder to the menu, and Lucy intends to discover who left Metinnicut Indian activist Curt Nolan deader than the proverbial Thanksgiving turkey—with an ancient
war club next to his head.

  The list of suspects isn’t exactly a brief one. Nolan had a habit of disagreeing with just about everybody he met. He’d made a lot of waves with the Tinker’s Cove board by first petitioning to have the Metinnicut tribe recognized—a move that would allow the Metinnicuts to build a casino—and then blasting the current building plans for not being true to his tribe’s heritage. The very idea of a gambling hall in cozy Tinker’s Cove raised bitter arguments on both sides of the issue. But could it have also inspired murder?

  Between fixing dinner for twelve and keeping her four kids from tearing each other limb from limb, Lucy has a pretty full plate already. So what’s a little investigation. But if Lucy’s not careful, she just may find herself served up as a last-minute course, stone-cold dead with all the trimmings....

  WEDDING DAY MURDER

  The Eighth Lucy Stone Mystery

  Already juggling four kids’ hectic schedules, a rambunctious dog, an attention-craving husband, and a full-time reporter job, Lucy Stone can’t possibly squeeze in another responsibility . . . Or can she? When Sue Finch asks for her help planning her daughter Sidra’s wedding to Internet millionaire Ron Davitz, loyal pal Lucy willingly dives into the world of white lace, roses, and chair rentals. What could be more perfect than a backyard wedding in the Stones’ newly built gazebo?

  Live doves and a hot-air balloon, according to overbearing social climber Thelma Davitz. But the groom’s mother’s elaborate ideas and constant complaints are the least of Lucy’s troubles. With the nuptials looming along with her latest deadline, the arrangements are in utter chaos—and so is Lucy’s investigative piece on lobsters. Meanwhile, Ron is making enemies at every turn, including the bride’s father, several local lobstermen, harbormaster Frank Wiggins, and the Stones’ friend Geoff Rumford—who still happens to be carrying a torch for Sidra.