Free Back To School Murder #4 by Leslie Meier Page B

Instead of people being all overcome with her bravery and courage for saving the kid, they’d want to know why she didn’t defuse the bomb on her way out.”
    â€œThe perils of being Superwoman,” joked Ted.
    â€œYeah, well think about it. What exactly was Carol Crane dressing for that morning? A normal working day?”
    â€œIt was the first day of school. Maybe she wanted to make a good impression.”
    â€œI don’t know. The whole thing seems pretty fishy to me.”
    â€œOh, Lucy,” said Ted, waggling his finger at her. “What a suspicious mind you have.”
    â€œI can’t help it, it’s just the way I am,” said Lucy contritely.
    â€œDon’t apologize. I like it. Somewhere along the line you must have got some ink in your blood.”
    Lucy went back to her work, but she couldn’t help feeling a warm little glow. It was nice to be appreciated.

CHAPTER TEN
    â€œT he thing that gets me,” said Bill as he and Lucy drove together to the school committee meeting on Monday evening, “the thing that really ticks me off is the fact that school is compulsory, right? We have to send the kids to school, but the school can’t guarantee that they’ll be safe while they’re there.”
    Lucy had been looking out the window as they drove along; Bill had taken the long way around on the shore road. She liked passing the old farms with their houses and barns scattered among the golden hay fields. Peeking through the tall firs, she could catch glimpses of gray ocean, with a rocky island poking up here and there.
    She turned and looked at Bill. Tonight he’d changed out of his usual working uniform, a plaid flannel shirt and jeans, and was wearing chinos and a blue button-down shirt. Instead of work boots he had slipped on a pair of boat shoes. Tall and bearded, he never seemed to gain a pound; he looked just as he had when they’d married almost twenty years ago. Good old Bill, she thought. He’s steady and reliable, you could tell time by him. He left at seven in the morning; he came home at five-thirty and wanted dinner at six. She knew him so well, she could have laid odds on what he would say next. He would bring up Toby’s missing backpack.
    â€œIt was just last spring, wasn’t it,” he asked, “that Toby’s fancy new Country Cousins backpack was stolen. Did it ever turn up? No. How much was that worth?”
    â€œAbout twenty dollars. I used my discount.”
    â€œWhat are you smiling at?”
    â€œNothing,” she said with a shake of her head and a little shrug. She didn’t know why she felt so defensive when Bill criticized the schools, but she did. “They do the best they can, Bill. The budget is tight, there aren’t a lot of frills. But the kids get a good education. Look at the colleges they go to. Sidra went to Bowdoin, that Franklin kid went to Harvard.”
    â€œThat’s all very well and good, Lucy,” said Bill, turning the pickup sharply into the high school parking lot, “but nobody’s going to college if they all get blown up while they’re still in elementary school.”
    â€œTell me what you think,” said Lucy, laying her hand on Bill’s forearm as he reached to turn off the ignition. “Who do you think set the bomb?”
    â€œIt’s obvious—it had to be one of the kids. Probably one of those special-needs kids with emotional problems.” He turned the key, and the truck shuddered as the engine kicked a few times in protest before shutting off.
    â€œI wish I could be so sure,” said Lucy, jumping down from the cab. “It’s so much easier when things are black and white.”
    â€œWhat’s that supposed to mean?” asked Bill as they fell into step together.
    â€œAdmit it,” challenged Lucy, waving her arms as she spoke. “You think the school is run by a bunch of liberal wussies who waste our