Free Christmas Cookie Murder #6 by Leslie Meier

she furrowed her brow. Finally the light dawned. Someone, probably Franny, had put them aside for Marge.
    No time like the present, thought Lucy, as a plan took shape. She’d been intending to visit Marge, anyway, and now she had a good excuse. And since Marge was married to Barney, she might have some inside information on the police investigation.
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    â€œBarney didn’t have much to say about it,” said Marge, straightening the scarf she was wearing to hide the effects of the chemotherapy. She was lying on an aging plaid Herculon couch, with her shoulders propped on a pile of cushions. “I think it upset him, her being so young and all. And anyway, the state police handle all the homicides.”
    â€œI know,” said Lucy, taking a seat in the rocking chair. Somehow it seemed presumptuous to sit in Barney’s big recliner. “But they use the local manpower, too. For routine things like questioning neighbors, running background checks. Did Barney happen to mention who’s in charge of the investigation?”
    Marge’s expression brightened. “He did mention Lieutenant Horowitz, I think. He’s usually the one they send.”
    Lucy recognized the name. Her most recent encounter with the lieutenant had been the year before, when she was a member of the library board of directors and there had been some trouble.
    â€œHe’s very thorough,” said Lucy, remembering that Horowitz had even considered her a possible suspect. “I wonder if they have any suspects yet? You know, I heard she was involved with Steve Cummings.”
    As she spoke, Lucy suddenly realized that Steve was the most likely suspect. The husband, or in this case, boyfriend, always was.
    â€œThat nice dentist?” Marge raised her eyebrows.
    â€œThat nice dentist walked out on his wife and two adorable little girls,” said Lucy. “Lee was pretty upset with Tucker at the cookie exchange.”
    â€œI don’t blame her,” said Marge. “Though by rights he’s the one she should be angry with. And what’s a man of his age doing with a young girl like Tucker anyway?”
    â€œThat seems to be the fashion nowadays. I guess it’s some sort of status symbol to have a young girlfriend.” It was that very generation gap, thought Lucy, that could cause problems in a relationship. Problems that could lead to murder.
    â€œNothing new about that,” sniffed Marge. “It must be awful hard on their kids. Little girls, you said?”
    â€œHillary and Gloria. Gloria goes to school with Zoe, and Hillary’s in the day-care center.”
    Marge clucked her tongue. “I suppose she has to work now that they’re separated, but I don’t see why these young mothers can’t spend a few years at home with their little ones.”
    â€œThey all have careers,” Lucy said, remembering little Will’s asthma attack the day before. “You know, I was helping Sue at the center yesterday, and Will Scott got sick. Sue had to take him to the emergency room, but when I called his mother she acted as if it was all a big inconvenience. She told me I should have called her husband.”
    â€œI guess I’m old-fashioned,” said Marge, with a shrug. “I was raised that you never bothered a man at work. When Eddie broke his leg, I took him over to Doc Ryder. When the water heater broke and flooded the cellar, I was the one who called the plumber and got it fixed. Barney never knew what happened ’til it was all over and done with.”
    â€œSteffie’s not like that, that’s for sure,” said Lucy. “But she takes an interest in Tom’s work—she’s real active in Mothers Against Drunk Driving.”
    â€œNow that’s something I don’t hold with,” said Marge, lifting a glass of water from the coffee table and taking a long drink. The table was filled with the clutter of illness: pill bottles, a