Free Mother's Day Murder by Leslie Meier

“There’s a lot of talk that the cops are following a hot lead in the Appleton case. Maybe you can call some of your contacts and find out what’s happening?”
    “I’ll try,” said Lucy, “but don’t expect much.”
    “I’ve got confidence in you, Lucy,” insisted Ted. “If anybody can get them to talk, it’s you.”
    Lucy suspected Ted was being sarcastic. She didn’t have especially good relationships with the local cops. On the contrary, she knew they regarded her as a thorn in their sides, always poking her nose in where it wasn’t wanted. She decided to begin with Officer Barney Culpepper, the one cop who was an old friend, dating back to the days when their boys were Cub Scouts and they both served on the Pack Committee. But since those days were long gone, she didn’t expect much. Nowadays their relationship was primarily professional. Barney was the community outreach officer and spent a lot of time speaking to clubs and school groups about safety. No matter if it was stranger danger at Halloween, warnings about fireworks on the Fourth of July, or the rules of the road for bicyclists, Barney was your man. What he didn’t know much about was the status of ongoing investigations of serious crimes.
    “Gee, Lucy, I wish I could help,” he said, “but right now I’ve been focusing on reminding people not to leave valuable stuff in unlocked cars. Now that the weather’s warmer, they’ll go off and leave video cameras, laptops, cell phones, even purses, right there for anybody to take. And then they’re all upset when they get back to the car and find they’ve been robbed.”
    People sure can be foolish, thought Lucy, who knew she was guilty of leaving things in her car. She never thought to lock it, either. In fact, hardly anyone in town even bothered to lock their houses.
    “They should at least put valuables in the trunk, where they’re out of sight,” he continued.
    “Right,” said Lucy, who drove a Subaru station wagon with no trunk at all. The car did have a sliding screen, but she never used it, figuring it would tip off a thief to the presence of something valuable. “I wasn’t looking for specifics, you know. I just wondered if you might’ve heard anything at the station that might mean they’re close to making an arrest or something.”
    “Nope. Not a word, not a peep. The boys from the state are running this now, and they don’t tell us anything.”
    Lucy knew this was a continuing source of irritation to the town cops. She hoped her sympathetic tone would loosen his lips. “Sometimes they use you, though, don’t they? To check on the status of sex offenders, stuff like that?”
    “Oh, sure, they use us, but they never tell us why,” he grumbled.
    “Yeah, well, they want all the credit for themselves,” said Lucy, laying it on thick.
    “You know it,” agreed Barney.
    “So have they requested anything like that lately?” she persisted.
    “Not from me. The only thing I got was a memo they sent to all the community outreach officers in the state to remind kids of stranger danger now that summer is coming and school will be out.”
    “But there haven’t been any incidents since Corinne, have there?”
    “No, that’s the problem. These guys are like time bombs. They can handle the urges for a while, but the pressure builds, and sooner or later they have to do it again. Mebbe you could put something about that in the paper, Lucy. It’s just a suggestion. I don’t mean to tell you your business, but people need to be aware that he’s still out there.”
    Not exactly encouraging news, thought Lucy, thinking of Sara and Zoe. “I’ll do that, Barney. Thanks for the tip.”
    “No problem,” he said, managing to sound as if he’d given her the scoop of the century.
    “What was the tip?” demanded Ted, eagerly.
    “Hold the presses,” said Lucy. “People need to be aware that Corinne’s abductor is still at large, and should therefore instruct their kids to