“You were?” Matt carefully lifted an egg with the spatula and flipped it over. “I bet it was very successful.”
“This year was the biggest ever,” said Elizabeth, coyly running her finger around her coffee mug. “Of course, it wasn’t just me. I had a lot of help.”
Lucy couldn’t take it anymore. She finished her coffee and went upstairs to make the bed.
* * *
“I think Elizabeth likes Matt,” said Lucy as she and Bill and the younger girls were driving into town to see the parade.
“No way,” Sara said. “She told me he was a dork. Almost as much of a dork as Toby, but not quite because Toby is the king of the dorks.”
Sara had a way with words, thought Lucy.
“That’s right,” chimed in Zoe. “She said Matt is Dork Number Two and Amy is Dork Number Three and Jessica is a bitch.”
“Zoe!” Lucy and Bill spoke in one voice.
“Well, that’s what Elizabeth said.”
“She shouldn’t have said it and you shouldn’t have repeated it,” said Lucy. “Besides, I think she may have revised her opinion—at least concerning Dork Number Two.”
Bill parked the car on a side street, hoping to avoid the inevitable traffic jam that took place after the parade every year, and they walked along the sidewalk past neat white clapboard houses to Main Street. At the corner, they encountered Officer Barney Culpepper, who was standing behind a sawhorse and making sure no cars tried to sneak onto the parade route. The assignment wasn’t very taxing and he had time to talk.
“Hi, Barney. It’s a fine day for a parade, isn’t it?” Lucy asked.
“Unseasonably mild,” he agreed. “They say it’s that El Niño.”
“We’ll get plenty of cold before winter’s over,” said Bill.
“Mom, can we go ahead?” Sara was clearly bored with this adult conversation. “We’ll wait for you right in front of the news store.”
“Okay. Catch you later.”
Barney gave his whistle a short blast and waved a Ford Explorer onto the detour.
“Never fails.” He shook his head. “There’s always some that think they can drive right onto Main Street.”
Lucy shook her head at this example of human folly. She wanted to ask Barney about the new evidence Miss Tilley had told her about but didn’t want him, or Bill, to suspect she was more than casually interested.
“Wasn’t that awful about Curt Nolan?” she asked. “Killed in broad daylight, right here in town.”
Barney looked down at her from his considerable height. “I hope you’re not planning on playing detective, Lucy. You’ll just get yourself in a mess of trouble. Remember the last time at the lobster pound?”
Lucy shuddered at the memory and reached for Bill’s arm, giving him a little squeeze. “No. I’ve given up investigating,” she said, telling herself it really wasn’t a lie if she judged by the progress she’d made in the case so far. “I was just wondering if there was any new information I could pass along to Ted at the paper.”
“There was a press conference this morning at the station and Ted was there. Lieutenant Horowitz gave his usual spiel. ‘The case is under investigation by the state police and we’ll keep you informed.’ Never gave us any credit at all, and it was our department that turned up the only piece of evidence that looks like it’s worth anything.”
Lucy knew the local cops resented the way the state police took over investigations of serious crimes and rarely acknowledged the ability and expertise of local officers who often had firsthand knowledge of both the victims and perpetrators.
“Sounds like the same old story,” said Lucy, adding a sympathetic cluck. “You guys do all the work, but the state guys get the glory. It’s really not fair. If you found something important, you should get the credit.” She paused, letting him think it over. “Whatever it was, it probably wasn’t that important, huh?”
“It might be, might not. It all depends. It could link the killer to the crime—that’s why Horowitz didn’t want it to get in the papers. They’re holding it back.”
Lucy knew this was standard procedure, but she couldn’t help being curious.
“I won’t put it in the paper, Barney. Promise. Scout’s honor.”
He laughed. “We had some fun times when the kids were Cub Scouts together, didn’t we? Hey, Bill, remember that chuck wagon you and I built for the Chuck Wagon Derby? It’s still going strong.”
“That’s great,” said Bill. “Of course, we built it to last.”
Lucy didn’t like the tum the conversation was taking, “You really ought to tell me about the evidence, off the record, of course. That way I can make sure the department gets credit when the case is solved.”
Barney considered.
“You know you can trust me,” said Lucy.
He sighed. “Like I said, it might not be anything, but they did find a button in Nolan’s hand.”
“A button? What kind of button?”
“Leather, I think. Kinda woven. You know the type. ’Course it might’ve been dropped there by anybody and he just happened to pick it up. It didn’t have to come from the murderer.”
“That’s probably what happened,” said Lucy, determined not to show her excitement at getting the information. “But you never know.”
“We’d better get a move on,” said Bill. “We don’t want to miss the parade.”
“Have a nice time now,” said Barney, raising his hand to halt a pickup truck.
* * *
When Lucy and Bill found the girls, standing just where they had said they’d be, Sara was holding a big pink cone of cotton candy.
“You’re going to ruin your teeth,” scolded Lucy. “It’s nothing but sugar, you know. Empty calories.”
“Want some, Lucy?” asked Bill.
“Sure.”
Soon she was happily enjoying the way the cotton candy melted on her tongue and watching the other people in the crowd waiting for the parade to start. That was one thing about living in a small town like Tinker’s Cove: Even if you didn’t know everybody by name, almost everyone looked familiar.
“When’s it gonna start, Mom?” Zoe asked.
“Pretty soon. I think I
