Free New Year's Eve Murder by Leslie Meier

and got out of bed, she could use another hour or two of sleep herself. The magazine was certainly keeping them busy—they hadn’t got back to the hotel from the theater until well past eleven the night before.
    Stopping at the window to check the weather—gray and cold, what did she expect?—Lucy noticed the invitations to the ball that were perched on the sill. She’d tried to call Sam last night, but all she’d gotten was a busy signal. Her cell phone was also on the sill, charging completed, so she took it with her into the bathroom.
    “I’m sorry to call so early,” she began, when Sam answered in a groggy voice.
    “No, no. I’m up, I’m just not awake yet.”
    “Same here,” said Lucy, chuckling. “I got the invitations….”
    “Are you coming? Please! I’ve been working on it for months, and I know you’ll have a great time. All sorts of famous people are coming; there’ll be music and dancing and fabulous food. It’s going to be the social event of the season, at least I hope it is.”
    “Since when did you become a party planner?” asked Lucy, perching on the edge of the tub.
    “Don’t ask,” groaned Sam. “I got stuck when our fund-raiser left for another job. This isn’t the sort of thing I usually do at all, and I don’t really like it. I prefer working with clients, making policy, stuff like that. This has been horrible, which is why I really, really want to see some friendly, supportive faces, like yours.”
    “Oh, believe me, I’d love to come but Elizabeth and I don’t have anything to wear.”
    “No problem,” said Sam. “Do what I did. Go to a consignment shop. You can pick up designer duds cheap, and you can even return them the next day.”
    Lucy was shocked. She couldn’t imagine Sam doing anything so tacky as buying a dress for a special occasion only to return it afterward.
    “No, it’s okay. They don’t mind. That’s how these consignment shops work. You won’t get back as much as you paid, but it’s still a good deal.”
    “The other problem is the makeover. The schedule’s brutal, and I’m trying to win this ten-thousand-dollar prize for the best makeover so Elizabeth can go back to college next semester. I can’t go sneaking away to a ball.”
    “ Au contraire, Lucy. It just so happens that Jolie magazine has a table. Camilla Keith’s coming, along with several other editors. This is your chance to wow them.”
    Lucy’s mind was spinning. “If they’re at the ball, they’re not going to be with the makeover winners on the ’round-the-island dinner cruise….”
    “So you’ll come?”
    “Sure,” said Lucy. “So where’s this consignment shop?”
     
    When Lucy got downstairs there was only a scattering of people, mostly dressed in business attire, in the dining room, but she spotted two familiar faces. Lucy would have preferred to sit by herself but decided it might be viewed as impolite, so after helping herself to fruit salad and yogurt from the buffet she joined Ginny and Serena at their table.
    “Where is everybody?” she asked, as the waiter filled her cup with coffee.
    “The girls wanted to get an extra hour of sleep,” said Ginny.
    “Elizabeth, too.” Lucy yawned and took a sip of coffee. “Frankly, I could use a bit more sleep myself.”
    “I know the feeling,” agreed Serena. “My biological clock hasn’t adjusted to Eastern time. It’s seven-thirty for you but it’s more like four-thirty for me. I fell asleep during that massage yesterday.”
    “How was the spa?”
    “Very relaxing,” said Ginny. “It was the best part so far.”
    “I’m really looking forward to it,” said Lucy. “I don’t know how people keep up this pace. Things are a lot slower in Tinker’s Cove.”
    “I could never live in the city.”
    “Me either,” agreed Serena. “Everybody’s in such a hurry here. They don’t know how to relax and chill.”
    “And they’re so rude,” said Ginny.
    “I think it’s the weather,” said Serena.