Turkey Day Murder (20 page)

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Authors: Leslie Meier

BOOK: Turkey Day Murder
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A Lucy Stone Thanksgiving
L
ucy Stone has cooked the same Thanksgiving dinner for years. In fact, it's the same dinner she remembers her mother and grandmother cooking when she was a little girl. Lucy has inherited her mother's china, and her grandmother's crystal and linen, and uses them to set the table. She takes great pleasure in taking them out for the holidays—she even enjoys ironing the linen tablecloth and napkins!
The menu is simple: New England home cooking based on recipes from
The Fannie Farmer Cookbook.
Lucy has the eleventh edition, which was published in 1965, and doesn't think much of the newer versions.
For a centerpiece, Lucy arranges colorful fall leaves on her best white damask tablecloth and piles fresh fruit and vegetables on top. The arrangement varies from year to year, depending upon what's available, but she likes to use apples, pears, and Concord or Fox grapes, punctuated with tiny pumpkins and squash. She doesn't use tropical fruits such as oranges and bananas, believing that only native-grown New England produce is appropriate for Thanksgiving. A scattering of mixed nuts in their shells completes the arrangement, which the family nibbles on after the meal. When the children were younger, Bill used to make little boats out of the walnut shells, continuing a tradition from his own childhood.
Five kernels of dried corn are placed at each place setting. That was the daily ration allowed to each of the Pilgrims during their first difficult winter in Plymouth Colony, and it is a reminder of the hardship they endured so they could enjoy the freedom we take for granted today.
 
Appetizer
Lucy tends to agree with her mother, who always maintained appetizers were too much trouble and only spoiled people's appetites, anyway. Sometimes, though, she does serve shrimp or oysters before dinner.
Shrimp are served chilled, on ice, with cocktail sauce and lemon slices.
Oysters are served raw, on the half shell, also with cocktail sauce.
 
Soup
What? And make more dishes to wash?
 
Main Course
Roast turkey with bread stuffing (Sensitive about her weight, Lucy now mixes chicken broth, instead of water and butter, with either Pepperidge Farm or Arnold stuffing.)
Giblet gravy
Mashed potatoes
Sweet potatoes or yams (the canned kind, heated in the oven while she makes the gravy)
Creamed onions (white onions from a jar in white sauce)
Petite peas (frozen, not canned)
 
 
Condiments
(These are served in crystal dishes Lucy inherited from her grandmother.)
Cranberry sauce (whole berry)
Celery with pimento-stuffed olives
Sweet pickle mix (the kind with cauliflower and tiny onions)
 
Dessert
Mince pie (Lucy always uses a jar of Grandmother's brand mincemeat.)
Apple pie (Macintosh or Cortland apples)
Pumpkin pie (A good way to use up pumpkins left over from Halloween)
Coffee, fruit, and nuts
Please turn the page
for an exciting sneak peek of
Leslie Meier's
newest Lucy Stone mystery
WEDDING DAY MURDER
now on sale at bookstores everywhere!
L
ucy felt a little odd as she drove off in the Subaru later that day to the shower, the wrapped Pyrex bowls set carefully on the passenger seat. The Fourth of July had always been a family holiday with a cookout followed by fireworks, but this year Elizabeth and Toby had made plans with their friends, and Lucy had been invited to the shower.
Left with only the two younger girls, Bill had accepted an invitation to the Orensteins' barbecue. Lucy knew they'd have a good time, but she still felt a little guilty about going to the shower all by herself.
On the other hand, she admitted to herself, wild horses couldn't have kept her away. Sue needed her moral support—that went without saying—but this was also an opportunity to see Thelma in action. Lucy couldn't begin to imagine what she had planned for the shower. Anything could happen. Entertainment by Chippendales? Siegfried and Roy and assorted feline companions? The Rolling Stones, dropping by to play an unplugged private concert? Nothing seemed too outrageous for Thelma, given her access to her son's money and her willingness to spend it.
As she drove, she cast a nervous eye on the sky where clouds were gathering. The spell of fine weather they'd been enjoying was finally coming to an end; thunderstorms had been forecast and she hoped they'd hold off until after the fireworks.
When Lucy pulled into the parking lot at the harbor, the Davitz's yacht was brightly lit with Christmas lights, even the gangplank was outlined in twinkling white lights. As she drew closer, she could hear the buzz of conversation and the tinkle of piano music. For a moment, she felt like pinching herself. The warm night air, the music, the graceful figures on the deck—she felt as if she had wandered into
The Great Gatsby.
Stepping on board the
Sea Witch,
she was met by a uniformed steward, who welcomed her and relieved her of her gift, placing it with others on a nearby table. She then made her way to the open deck on the stern, where the guests were gathered, and looked for her hostess.
She didn't find Thelma, but she did see Sue and Sidra and hurried right over, embracing Sidra and giving her a big hug.
“It's wonderful to see you—and such a happy occasion. You know we all wish you so much happiness.”
“It's nice to see you, too, Aunt Lucy,” replied Sidra.
Lucy studied her, realizing again just how much she resembled her mother. She had Sue's neat, petite body and her straight, glossy hair. Her face was softer and plumper than her mother's; where Sue's lean features made her striking, Sidra was pretty, even beautiful.
“You look wonderful—a beautiful bride,” said Lucy. “I can't get over how much you look like your mother.”
“That's the last thing she wants to hear,” said Sue, an edge to her voice.
“Nonsense. I could've done a lot worse.” Sidra sounded as if she were going through the motions, repeating platitudes, thought Lucy, watching as she turned to greet another guest.
“C'mon. I'll show you where the bar is,” Sue offered.
“Where's Thelma? I haven't had a chance to say hi.”
“She was here a minute ago.” Sue shrugged. “Must have flown off on her broomstick.”
Lucy didn't like the sound of this. She wondered if the mother and daughter reunion hadn't gone quite the way Sue wanted.
“You seem a little upset,” she said. “What's going on?”
“I'll have a gin and tonic, light on the tonic,” said Sue, stepping up to the bar. “Lucy, what'll you have?”
“White wine.”
As soon as the drinks were set before them, Sue tossed hers back in one long swallow and replaced the glass. “I'll have another.”
Lucy took her hand and realized she was trembling.
“Hold on a minute—tell me what's wrong.”
“I'm a wreck. My God, I need another drink.”
Lucy glanced at the bartender, who had raised a questioning eyebrow.
“Okay,” she said, nodding. “But then you have to tell me what's wrong.”
Lucy picked up the fresh drink before Sue could grab it and led her to a quiet corner, next to the bar. “Talk,” she said, handing her the drink.
Sue took a quavery breath. “The gun—you know, the one I hid—is gone.”
This was the last thing Lucy expected to hear.
“Do you think Sid found it?”
“Who else?”
“Did you ask him about it?”
Sue looked at her as if she were crazy. “I didn't tell him I hid it, so how could I tell him it was gone.”
“I think you need to talk to him about this.”
“No.” Sue was adamant. Her glass, Lucy noticed, was again empty.
“Now, what are you two doing conspiring in the corners?” demanded Thelma, descending on them in a dress comprised of layers and layers of fluttery chiffon accessorized with ropes and ropes of twinkling stones.
Diamonds? wondered Lucy, embarrassed to be found by her hostess behaving so unsociably.
“Such a lovely party. . . .” began Lucy, only to be interrupted by Sue.
“We were just getting drinks,” she said, turning her back on Thelma and marching to the bar.
Lucy tried to cover her friends' rudeness. “Is Ron going to be here tonight?”
It was the wrong thing to say.
“He was supposed to be, but he hasn't shown up yet.” Thelma was clearly annoyed, but she gave a little chuckle. “Isn't that just like a man?”
Unbidden, an image of Ron appeared to Lucy. He was clutching his chest, which was bleeding, and Sid was standing over him, holding a smoking gun. Lucy blinked, and found herself staring at Thelma's raccoon eyes.
“Just like a man,” repeated Lucy.
“Well, I hope he gets here in time to open the presents,” said Thelma, bustling off to welcome a new arrival.
Lucy turned her attention to Sue, who was feeling the effects of her drinks.
“Come on. Let's join the party,” she said, taking Sue by the elbow.
“Letsh no',” said Sue, leaning heavily on her arm.
As Lucy led her back to the deck, Lucy wondered how many drinks she'd had. This wasn't like Sue, who rarely drank more than a glass of white wine at a time. Lucy looked for a chair, noticing that the party had divided into two camps: a cluster of women in pastel dresses represented the home team while a group dressed almost identically in black sleeveless shifts seemed to be the New Yorkers. Lucy decided to cross the great divide and led Sue to a seat by the New York crowd.
“You must be one of the bridesmaids,” she said, extending a hand to a very thin girl with very long hair. “I'm Lucy Stone, an old friend of the family.”
“How nice,” said the girl, turning around and tossing her hair in Lucy's face.
“That's Susanna. She works with Sidra,” said Sue. “C'mon. Let's go talk to Rachel and Pam.”
Seeing that the New Yorkers had closed ranks around Sidra, Lucy followed Sue's unsteady progress to the other side of the boat. There, Rachel Goodman and Ted's wife Pam were chatting with Phyllis.
“You can say what you want about Thelma,” said Rachel in a low voice. “But the woman sure knows how to throw a party.”
“Look at these shrimp.” Phyllis held up a skewer.
“They're huge.”
“And these little crab cakes—delish!” added Pam.
“Good idea,” said Lucy, thinking that Sue could use some solid food.
“Not hungry,” said Sue. “Thirshy.”
Lucy shook her head and Pam, taking in the situation, grabbed Sue's other arm.
“C‘mon, Sue. Let's take a turn 'round the buffet table.”
Between the two of them they got Sue to the table, but when Lucy let go of her arm to reach for a plate, Sue wriggled away and disappeared into the crowd.
“We tried,” said Pam. “How much has she had?”
“Too much,” said Lucy. “Should I have the bartender cut her off?”
“Not the way she is now. She'd just raise a ruckus. With luck she'll find a quiet spot and pass out.”
“And if not,” said Lucy, “she'll raise holy hell.” She studied the lavish buffet and came to a decision. “Whatever happens, I'll probably need nourishment.”
“That's the spirit,” said Pam. “Oooh, these stuffed mushrooms are fabulous.”
“Mmm,” agreed Lucy.
 
“It's time for the gifts,” announced Thelma, trotting around in her high heels and waving her arms, in effect, performing an odd little dance of the seven veils in her layered dress. “Everyone, take a seat.”
It took a few minutes for the group to get settled, forming a sort of circle around Sidra. There was still no sign of Ron, and Lucy didn't blame him. He would have been the only man present and certainly would have felt rather awkward. Thelma clapped and a steward appeared, carrying a tray of gifts. He was followed by another, and another, until the pile of wrapped presents set before Sidra towered above her.
“Oh, my goodness,” exclaimed the bride-to-be, as a little color rose in her cheeks. “This is too much. It's embarrassing.”
“At least she has the decency to blush,” observed Phyllis, a touch of vinegar in her voice. “Where's Sue?”
“Sleeping it off, I hope,” said Lucy. She was worried about Sue, but didn't feel she could absent herself from the group without being conspicuous.
“Now, who's this from?” Sidra had plucked a large box from the pile and was opening the card. “From Susanna. I know this is going to be lovely.”
“Who is Susanna?” hissed Pam.
“One of the WIBs,” replied Rachel. “Women-in-Black.”
Sidra was pulling the gift from waves of tissue paper, revealing a Cuisinart. Everybody oohed.
“Oh, you shouldn't have. Thank you so much. . . .”
Sidra was interrupted by Molly Thacher, her old high school friend. “Now, Sidra, what did you do with the bow?”
Sidra fumbled with the discarded wrapping and found the bow.
“What do you want with it?”
“Why, she's going to make a hat—just like they did at my baby shower,” said Carrie Swift, Chuck Swift's wife. “They made me the cutest hat by taping all the bows to a paper plate.”
“Oh,” said Sidra, with a conspicuous lack of enthusiasm.
“I'll make the hat, if you just give me a paper plate,” offered Molly.
“Too bad. No paper plates,” said one of the WIBs, throwing her hands in the air.
Molly and Carrie shared a glance.
“Next present,” announced the third WIB, passing a huge box to Sidra.
There were more oohs and aahs when this gift—a crystal punch bowl—was revealed.
“Oh, Lily! It isn't Waterford, is it?”
Lily smiled demurely and nodded.
“You darling! You shouldn't have!”
“Darn tootin' she shouldn't have,” muttered Phyllis. “What's Sidra going to do with a white elephant like that?”
Lucy shrugged and bit her tongue. She wasn't going to tell Phyllis how much that particular white elephant had cost.
“Now, what could this be?”
Sidra was holding up a flat little package, simply wrapped in tissue paper and white curling ribbon.
“Oh—that's mine!” exclaimed Molly.
All eyes were on Sidra as she unwrapped the gift: four handwoven potholders in violent shades of purple and pink.
“What are . . .” began one WIB.
“Like you make in camp . . .” volunteered the second WIB.
“On a little loom!” finished the third, dissolving into helpless giggles.
“I made them myself,” volunteered Molly, puzzled at the reaction to her gift. “I used your favorite colors. Remember, in eighth grade, you said you were going to have an all-pink house?”
“Really, you shouldn't have,” exclaimed Sidra. From her tone, it seemed clear she wasn't pleased to be reminded of her childhood excesses.
“No expense spared!” hooted the first WIB.
“One hundred percent synthetic!” added another.
“Your favorite colors!” screamed the third.
“Well, I think they're very pretty,” said Carrie, patting Molly's hand.

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