Free Chocolate Covered Murder by Leslie Meier

flyer from the hardware store, and a thick envelope like a wedding invitation. Intrigued, she opened it and found an engraved card from the Chamber of Commerce inviting her to the Hearts on Fire Ball scheduled for Valentine’s weekend at the VFW hall. The part about the VFW hall was a bit discouraging, but the event was black-tie optional, which made her heart beat a little faster, imagining how handsome Bill would look in a tux. And she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a reason to wear anything dressier than a pair of slacks and a nice sweater.
    Hurrying into the house, she debated how best to approach the subject with Bill, who declared himself allergic to neckties. A rented tux was a lot dressier than the all-purpose blue blazer he wore, most often with an open-necked shirt, when a jacket was absolutely necessary.
    Lucy paused in the kitchen to slip off her boots and hang up her jacket, taking a moment to neaten up the coat rack. Why couldn’t Bill and the girls manage to use the little loops for hanging that were sewn into their jackets? Instead, they tossed them on the row of hooks any old way, piling them one on top of the other until the whole mess slid off onto the floor. Catching herself in a negative train of thought, she resolved to try to think more positively, like Helen Faircloth. There was nothing she could do about winter, the weather was out of her control. She could control her thoughts, however, by concentrating on the positive aspects of the season. Like the ball.
    The TV was on in the family room; Lucy could hear bursts of sound that indicated a sporting event of some kind. Maybe Bill would like a snack, she thought, popping into the powder room and applying a fresh coat of lipstick and a squirt of cologne. Thus armed, she advanced into the family room where she found her husband in his usual chair, a big old recliner, slapping his knee.
    â€œA three-pointer,” he declared. “You shoulda seen it. Right across the court. Wait, hold on, they’re replaying it.”
    Trapped, Lucy perched on the sectional and watched as an abnormally tall man with many tattoos seemed to launch a basketball with an effortless flick of his wrist that sent it sailing from one end of the court to the other and right through the hoop.
    â€œAmazing,” she said.
    â€œAnd they said he wasn’t worth sixty million dollars,” scoffed Bill.
    â€œFools,” said Lucy, thinking to herself that nobody on God’s green earth deserved sixty million dollars, not when other people were hungry and homeless.
    â€œThat’s the quarter,” said Bill, as a buzzer sounded.
    Remembering her mission, Lucy jumped up. “Can I get you something? A beer? Would you like me to throw some popcorn in the microwave? There’s a mini-pizza in the freezer I could heat up for you.”
    Bill looked at her suspiciously. “Did you smash up the car?”
    â€œNo. What makes you think that?”
    â€œDunno. You’re not usually this nice. Are the girls okay?” He paused. “Don’t tell me Sara’s in trouble. Or Zoe?”
    â€œDon’t be ridiculous,” said Lucy. “The girls are fine. And so is the car.”
    â€œWell, you obviously want something. What is it?” Lucy plopped herself in his lap, giving him the full benefit of her cologne. “Don’t I smell good?”
    â€œYou always smell good,” he said, nuzzling her neck.
    Lucy stroked his beard, noticing the gray. “You know what holiday is coming up?”
    â€œMother’s Day?” he teased.
    â€œNo.” She nibbled his ear. “Valentine’s Day.”
    â€œFunny you should mention it. I noticed a bunch of red hearts in the windows at Fern’s Famous.”
    For a moment, Lucy wondered if he’d also noticed something at Chanticleer Chocolate, or rather, someone, but pushed the thought from her mind. “No chocolate for me,” said Lucy.