Free Star Spangled Murder by Leslie Meier Page A

stay around here?” asked Lucy.
    â€œA lot of ’em are staying at Mel Dunwoodie’s campground,” volunteered Marge Culpepper, Barney’s wife, who had taken the place behind Lucy in the check-out aisle. “He’s got a big banner up that says, ‘Nude is Not Lewd.’ I almost went off the road when I saw it.”
    â€œI heard he’s thinking of turning the campground into a nudist colony,” said Dot. “That’s what Jack Kimble said. He’s in real estate, you know, and he said he’s worried about property values.”
    â€œThat’s right in your neighborhood, Lucy,” observed Marge. “You and the Pratts would be most directly affected. Are you worried?”
    â€œI’m worried,” admitted Lucy, thinking of Elizabeth. “But not about property values.”
    â€œI suppose you want this on account, like usual?” asked Dot.
    â€œRighto,” said Lucy, pushing her cart towards the exit. “Take care, now.”
    â€œKeep your clothes on!” said Dot, laughing. She leaned across the counter to Marge. “I used to say ‘Have a nice day’ but now I say ‘Keep your clothes on’. The customers love it.”

    Outside in the parking lot, Lucy was interested to see that an impromptu counter-demonstration had formed. Members of the Revelation Congregation were out in force, making up for their lack of organization with righteous indignation. Their handlettered signs quoted Bible scripture, especially God’s command to Adam and Eve to “cover their nakedness” when they were expelled from the Garden of Eden. The group’s numbers were small, but they were doing their best to shout down the naturist speakers. One of the loudest was Pru Pratt.
    â€œSinners repent!” she shrieked, over and over, sounding like a crow.
    Her husband, Calvin, was standing beside her. In contrast to his wife, Calvin looked abashed to be involved in a public display, and was practically hiding behind the sign he was holding. “Avoid the occasion for sin!” it proclaimed, in drippy red paint.
    Not bad advice, thought Lucy, again thinking of Elizabeth as she wheeled the cart over to her car and unlatched the hatch. She tossed the giant package of paper towels into the back of the Subaru, then paused as she reached for the toilet paper. What was she thinking? She was once again agreeing with the Pratts. She needed her head examined.
    Lucy was in the driver’s seat, planning a route back to the paper that avoided Main Street, when she saw trouble looming on the horizon. A group of fishermen leaving the Bilge, their favorite hangout, had spotted the group from the Revelation Congregation. At first they were content to toss out a few ribald comments, and to laugh at the shocked reactions of the Revelation Congregation members.
    They probably would have gotten bored and gone on their way soon enough, except for the fact that one of the more zealous demonstrators raised his sign and threatened the fishermen with it. That was all it took for them to charge into the crowd, seizing the signs and knocking several demonstrators to their knees.
    Lucy grabbed her cell phone, intending to dial 911, but someone had beaten her to it. The wail of a siren was heard approaching and the fishermen quickly scattered. It was all over when the squad car came careening into the parking lot. Not far behind was a white van with a satellite dish on top. Tinker’s Cove would make the TV evening news.

Chapter Seven
    â€œT his town’s going to hell in a handbasket,” announced Lucy, as she wrestled the giant package of paper towels through the back door at the Pennysaver . Traffic was still not allowed on Main Street and she’d had to wind her way through back streets and driveways to the grungy parking area behind the office. It was shared with other stores and businesses on Main Street and was primarily used for deliveries