Free Christmas Cookie Murder #6 by Leslie Meier Page A

heating pad, information pamphlets, and instruction sheets. “A man’s work is his own business. Barney does his job, and I do mine. ’Course now it’s different because I’m sick, but I always used to have a nice hot dinner on the table and a smile on my face when he came home from work. But I don’t bother him about what he did or who’s in trouble. If he wants to talk about it, fine, but I don’t press him. It’s hard enough being a cop, but he only has to do it forty hours a week. The rest of his time is his.”
    â€œIt is a hard job, isn’t it? After all, people don’t call the police when everything’s going great.”
    â€œThat’s for sure,” agreed Marge. “But just between you and me it’s worse than ever now that Tom Scott is the big cheese in the department.”
    Lucy couldn’t help smiling. She hadn’t heard that expression in years. “What’s the problem?”
    Marge shrugged. “Tom’s got all these ideas about how Barney should improve his outreach program.”
    â€œReally?” Barney was the department’s safety officer, and through the years Lucy had seen most of his presentations at the school. “He does a great job, and the kids love him. That bike-safety obstacle course, where he sets up the real traffic light, they all look forward to that. He always does it the first day after spring vacation.”
    Marge’s face softened. “Barney loves it, too. You know, he made all those signs and the traffic light—spent one whole winter down in the cellar, building all that stuff.” She sighed. “Traffic safety, stranger danger, all that’s old hat according to Tom. He wants more antidrug and antialcohol education.”
    â€œFor kindergarten?”
    â€œCan’t start too young, I guess. Gotta scare ’em straight. At least that’s what he tells Barney.”
    â€œGee, whatever happened to childhood innocence? We used to try to protect kids.”
    â€œThat’s what Barney says, but Tom’s given him these curriculums he’s supposed to use. Big, thick books.” She glanced at the recliner, where a special pocket held the TV remote. “Barney’s not much of a reader.”
    Lucy chuckled, recognizing the truth of Marge’s statement.
    â€œActually,” continued Marge, leaning forward, “I’m kind of worried. The more Tom leans on Barney, the more Barney resists. I’m afraid he’s gonna snap and do something he’ll regret. If he lost his job, I don’t know what we’d do. We really need the medical insurance.” She touched the scarf, reassuring herself that it hadn’t slipped. “The surgery, the treatments, it’s all very expensive.”
    â€œI wouldn’t worry. Barney’s got lots of seniority. I don’t think they could fire him.”
    â€œI’m not worried about that, Lucy. I’m worried that he’ll quit.”
    â€œHe wouldn’t do that—I can’t imagine him as anything but a cop. It’s what he is.” Lucy patted her chest. “It’s part of him.”
    â€œHe keeps threatening….”
    â€œI think he’s just talking.” Lucy hoped it was true; she knew how vital medical insurance was. She and Bill had been unable to afford it themselves until the Chamber of Commerce set up a plan for members who were self-employed, like Bill. Before that, a case of pneumonia one winter had forced them to depend on food stamps and a loan from Bill’s parents. Bill had only lost a few weeks of work, but the hospital had demanded payment and threatened legal action.
    â€œHey, did you hear about Richie?” asked Lucy, eager to switch to a more positive subject. “He got into Harvard.”
    â€œThat’s wonderful,” enthused Marge, relieved to have a new topic of conversation. “Of course, he’s always been a bright