Star Spangled Murder (A Lucy Stone Mystery)
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Lucy Stone is in the doghouse--with her next-door neighbor, Mrs. Prudence Pratt. It seems that Kudo, the Stones' misbehaving mutt, has developed a taste for Mrs. Pratt's blue-ribbon winning chickens, as well an escape artist's talent for sneaking out. With the Fourth of July coming up, Lucy doesn't want to set off any more fireworks with the crabby Prudence.
Another sign that the crazy days of summer are in full swing arrives when a group of naturists--a.k.a. nudists--descends on Tinker's Cove, skinny-dipping at the pond that borders Mrs. Pratt's property, giving her something else to complain about. Worse still, the local lobstermen are upset about poachers--and suspicion falls on Mrs. Pratt's husband and son. Then the July Fourth fireworks are canceled to protect a patch of extremely rare purple-spotted lichen, and Mrs Pratt is the victim of a hit and run.
Tinker's Cove is full of suspects, but none with so personal a motive as the Stones. Their feud with Mrs. Pratt has put them at risk of losing their freedom this Independence Day--unless Lucy can start things off with a bang by catching a red, white and blue killer. . .
Praise for Leslie Meier and Her Lucy Stone Mysteries
"Leslie Meier writes with sparkle and warmth." --Chicago Sun Times
"Leslie Meier has created such a wonderful series, I always look forward to reading the next book, and I'm never disappointed."--I Love a Mystery
"A truly American version of the English 'cozy.'" --Tulsa World
Lucy was tempted to stop the car at the driveway and tell those reporters the real story. About the lobster poaching and the way Pru Pratt had made enemies of everyone in town. She’d like to give them a piece of her mind. Then she remembered Ted, cackling merrily when a controversial story prompted a flurry of irate letters to the editor. “It’s a win-win situation,” he’d told her. “We get ’em mad and they write us letters which get more people mad so we get more letters.” Yeah, she thought
Probably because the police hadn’t bothered to issue a statement to the press. And the media was so enraptured with the family feud story that they’d already convicted Toby without giving him the benefit of a trial. She was so angry that the sink was filling fast with soaking potatoes. She transferred them to a pot to cook, and drained the sink, refilling it with fresh water. She was standing there, wishing the murderer’s name would magically form in the water, when the phone rang. It was
yelled Bitsy. “I want to turn myself in.” “Sure you do,” said the officer, looking extremely doubtful. “Tell you what, we’re kind of busy right now with some holiday merry-makers, so why don’t you go on home and come back tomorrow?” “I’m a murderer,” said Bitsy, indignantly. “I’m not leaving until I talk to somebody. I should be locked up.” “If you say so,” replied the officer, yawning. “You can take a seat on the bench there but I can’t guarantee anybody will get to you anytime soon.”
was probably why the financial aid office had decided they could afford to pay more. But even last year, Bill’s best year ever, they had struggled to meet Elizabeth’s college expenses. Now that the Dow was hovering well below its former dizzying heights, Bill’s earnings had dropped dramatically. The economists called it a “correction” but it had been a disaster for vacation communities like Tinker’s Cove as the big city lawyers and bankers and stockbrokers who were the mainstay of the second home
enormous rock. The family formed a little procession, almost like a caravan, with Elizabeth and Toby leading the way. Toby was balancing a stack of folding aluminum beach chairs and Elizabeth had a canvas bag full of towels and sun lotion. Bill was next, toting the portable grill, followed by Zoe who was carrying the charcoal and a string bag containing some balls and frisbees. Lucy and Sara brought up the end, carrying the big red-and-white plastic cooler between them. It was heavy and Lucy was