“You mean someone tried to kill him?”

“That’s what they think. After all, Barney had driven that route at least once a day for fifteen years or more. There’s no way he could have made a wrong turn. And the car had just had a complete overhaul, so they’re certain it wasn’t a mechanical failure. They think it must have been attempted murder. First Sam Miller and now Barney!”

“I was thinking the same thing,” admitted Lucy.

“Well, you can read all about it in the Pennysaver. ”

“I will,” Lucy promised, giving Pam a wave.

As she drove home Lucy wondered about what Pam had said. Ted generally had a pretty good idea of what was going on in Tinker’s Cove. After all, he was the editor, publisher, and chief reporter for the weekly paper that featured ads, coupons, and local news. In Tinker’s Cove news generally came from two sources: the town hall and the police and fire departments. Ted covered it all, sitting through interminable evening meetings of the school board, the finance committee, the zoning board of appeals, and the selectmen. Nobody knew more about town politics than he did. Whenever the police and fire departments were called, Ted was there, writing up the automobile accidents, chimney fires, and petty crimes that had been all that filled the log books until now.

The last violent crime in Tinker’s Cove had happened in 1881 when a hired man killed Mrs. Flora Kenny with an ax he happened to be holding in a dispute over wages. He had been chopping wood at the time. Immediately overcome with remorse, he’d obligingly hanged himself in the apple orchard. At least, that’s how the story went. Anyway, it had happened a very long time ago.

Ted had written a feature story about the Tinker’s Cove ax murder, and Lucy had enjoyed reading it. It had seemed more like fiction than fact, until she’d stumbled on the grave of Flora Kenney, “Beloved Wife and Mother,” in the cemetery one day last summer. Flora had been real, just like Sam and Barney. The difference was that Flora had been killed in a fit of temper. Whoever killed Sam and tried to Barney had been cold and calculating.

On the other hand, thought Lucy, pulling into the driveway, you couldn’t be sure. Perhaps Barney had hit a patch of black ice. The road to Barrow’s Light was notorious.

As she braked, she saw Bill’s father carrying a load of suitcases and bags to his car.

“You’re not leaving already?” Lucy protested.

“I’m afraid so. I’ve got work tomorrow, you know.”

“Tomorrow’s Monday. I’d forgotten. I was hoping we’d have a longer visit.”

He grunted as he lifted a heavy suitcase. “We’ll be back soon. Edna’s got some crazy idea about cross-country skiing. Probably break her leg.”