The detective and Culpepper exchanged a meaningful glance; finally Culpepper broke the silence.

“There’s no harm in telling you, I suppose. It’ll be in the paper tomorrow, anyway. Sam Miller didn’t kill himself. He had quite a bump on his head. He was unconscious when somebody stuffed him in the car and rigged up the hose. Sam Miller was murdered.”

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER THREE

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Lucy leaned back in Sue Finch’s antique rocking chair and took a sip of mulled cider. She inhaled the spicy scent of the potpourri Sue had left simmering in a little copper pot on the woodstove and let out a long breath. After the last few hectic days it was wonderful to relax among friends in Sue’s beautifully decorated house.

Christmas was Sue’s favorite time of year, and she loved using all the decorations she collected at flea markets and antique shops throughout the year. She had no fewer than three Christmas trees: one in the living room, bedecked with baby’s breath and ribbons, which were carefully coordinated to go with the Victorian color scheme; one in the family room, decorated with ornaments her daughter, Sidra, had made; and one in the kitchen, trimmed with cookie cutters and gingerbread men. A collection of teddy bears was gathered in a hutch, lamp tables held a large and valuable collection of St. Nicks, and a twelve-inch feather tree with tiny German glass ornaments stood on the coffee table. Crocheted and starched snowflakes hung in the windowpanes, and a single candle burned in each window.

Looking around at the rosy-cheeked faces and eyes sparkling in the candlelight, Lucy realized she’d known most of these women for her entire adult life. A few were natives of Tinker’s Cove, but most were transplants or “wash ashores” like herself and Bill, idealistic young college graduates who had avoided the rat race and looked for an alternative life-style “back on the land.” With their Mother Earth News to guide them, they’d chopped wood, planted gardens, and recycled everything.

Through the years she’d attended Lamaze and La Leche League classes with these women. In those days they wore hand-wrought silver earrings in their pierced ears, and they drove ancient pickup trucks or huge Chevy Impalas filled with apple-cheeked and overalled children. Conversations had centered around how to get a baby to sleep through the night or how to keep the cabbage moths away from the kohlrabi.