TRICK OR TREAT MURDER
Lucy was just tucking Zoe’s arms and legs into a stretchy little suit when the music on the radio ended and the announcer read the news tease.
“Police say a suspicious Tinker’s Cove fire claimed the life of at least one victim. More in a moment.”
“Oh, no,” Lucy muttered as she settled herself in the rocking chair with Zoe. She wondered who the victim could have been.
Lucy bent down and sniffed Zoe’s clean baby scent. It was the best smell in the world. Just then the announcer’s voice interrupted her reverie.
“The fire that destroyed the Hopkins Homestead early Tuesday morning also claimed the life of its owner, Monica Mayes.”
Lucy sat motionless as the information sank in. Gradually, grief engulfed her and tears ran down her face.
“No, not Monica,” she whispered.
“This means we are no longer investigating a case of arson.” Lucy recognized Police Chief Oswald Crowley’s voice, in a recorded sound bite. “This is now a homicide investigation.”
Homicide? Lucy thought. Who would want to kill Monica?
Books by Leslie Meier
Mistletoe Murder
Tippy Toe Murder
Trick or Treat Murder
Back to School Murder
Valentine Murder
Christmas Cookie Murder
Turkey Day Murder
Wedding Day Murder
Birthday Party Murder
Father’s Day Murder
Star Spangled Murder
New Year’s Eve Murder
Bake Sale Murder
Candy Cane Murder
St. Patrick’s Day Murder
Mother’s Day Murder
Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation
A Lucy Stone Mystery
Trick or Treat MURDER
LESLIE MEIER
KENSINGTON BOOKS
KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com
For Mommy,
who always wore her real pearls
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
EPILOGUE
PREVIEW
PROLOGUE
“I could just kill him.”
Monica Mayes pressed the gas pedal of her little BMW to the floor and zoomed around a pokey Dodge Caravan, cutting it a bit too close as she pulled back into her lane. The driver of the Caravan braked, and the van swerved, but Monica didn’t notice.
“How could he do this to me?” she asked herself, pulling out the cigarette lighter. With a trembling hand she held it to the end of a Virginia Slim and took a long, slow draw. No longer used to the smoke, she hadn’t had a cigarette in years, she coughed.
“He’s not worth it,” she decided, tossing the cigarette out the window. She was damned if she was going to sacrifice her health for him. He’d gotten enough from her already. Thirty-two years of marriage, three grown children.
Tears welled in her eyes. She couldn’t believe how much it hurt, actual physical pain. Her chest ached with every breath; she could hardly swallow. He’d never laid a finger on her, but she felt bruised and beaten anyway.
She hadn’t seen that final blow coming. If she had she might have taken care to avoid it. But she’d never suspected a thing.
She’d left the house at a quarter to one for her weekly shift at the Hospital Auxiliary thrift shop. Realizing she’d forgotten a couple of Roland’s old suits that she’d planned to donate, she returned home. She’d hurried upstairs, thrown open the bedroom door, and was halfway across the room before she even saw them.
Roland and Krissy, her aerobics instructor. Her aerobics instructor, for God’s sake! And in her own bed—their marriage bed.
“How could he do that?” she asked herself. He was such a bastard. Why hadn’t she realized it sooner? She’d just gotten used to it. She gave and he took. That’s the way it was. Her job was to please him. She cooked for him. She cleaned for him. She washed and ironed for him. She entertained for him, and decorated the house for him. She dressed for him, and dieted, and even took aerobics for him.
She’d been a fool. She’d thought their marriage was as important to him as it was to her. Him. The doctor. The head honcho. The chief of staff.
Angry now, she impatiently brushed the tears from her cheeks. She’d show him, she decided. She’d hit him where it hurt. He wasn’t going to get off scot free. He’d have to pay. She began making a mental list as she flew along the turnpike, empty on this weekday night now that the tourist season was over.
First of all, she wanted the house in Tinker’s Cove, and all the furniture. She’d need her car, of course, and money. A nice little nest egg, plus a big fat alimony check every month. It was her due. She’d earned it. She wasn’t going to settle for less.
Was that her exit already? Braking hard she careened off the highway, almost losing control of the car