Candy Cane Murder (Hannah Swensen #9.5)(92)

“That is pretty impressive,” said Lucy. She heard Toby stirring in the borning room and struggled awkwardly to her feet, belly first, and cracked the door to take a peek. He was sitting up in bed, sucking his thumb. She quickly changed his diaper, then he scrambled off the bed and ran out to the living room, stopping short when he saw Miss Tilley.

“I think he forgot me,” she said.

But Toby hadn’t forgotten. “Mmmm,” he said, remembering the game they’d played earlier.

“Mmmm,” she went, right back at him, and he laughed.

“I guess I better get this little fellow home for lunch,” said Lucy. “Come on Toby, let’s pick up your toys.”

It was a slow process but eventually everything was packed up, including the cookies, and Toby and Lucy were zipped in their winter jackets, and muffled in hats, scarves, and mittens, ready to go.

310

Leslie Meier

“Thanks for everything,” said Lucy. “It wouldn’t be Christmas without the cookies. And I haven’t forgotten about your mother. We’ve got a list of suspects and I’m going to see what I can dig up.”

“Suspects?”

“Your father, Emil Boott, Mrs. Sprout, Angela DeRosa, Katharine Kaiser, even the maids—any one of them could have given your mother a fatal push down the stairs.”

“I never thought of it that way but I suppose you’re right.

They’re all suspects.”

But when Lucy had finally strapped Toby into the car seat and stowed everything in Auntie Granada’s enormous trunk, and was starting the car, she realized she had to add another suspect to her list: tuberculosis. As Miss Tilley had told her, the disease had ravaged families right up until World War II when lifesaving treatments were developed. It seemed a lot more probable that poor, ill Mrs. Tilley had fallen down the stairs as a result of a coughing fit or a fainting spell than at the hands of a household intimate.





Chapter


! Four #

When Lucy got home she found Bill had heated up the pot of split pea soup they had been having for lunch for the past week. The soup never seemed to end, it just got thicker with each reheating even though they kept thinning it down with the vegetable cooking water Lucy always saved.

The chunks of ham and carrot which had been plentiful in the beginning had become scarcer with each reheating, however.

“‘Pease porridge hot, pease porridge cold,’ ” chanted Lucy, as she unzipped Toby. “‘Pease porridge in the pot nine days old,’ and that’s no lie. It’s lovely pea soup for lunch again.”

Toby didn’t seem to mind. He kicked his feet in the high chair and spooned the stuff up eagerly, chasing down the little oyster crackers that Lucy sprinkled on top. She wasn’t quite as enthusiastic but reminded herself that homemade pea soup was nourishing and tasty and certainly helped stretch the food budget. She was trying to think of something new to do with a pound of hamburger for supper when Bill came in the kitchen to heat some water for tea.

“Daddy! Daddy!” chortled Toby, flinging a spoonful of soup over his shoulder.

“So how did the cookie baking go? I’d be happy to conduct a taste test,” he asked, automatically reaching for the 312

Leslie Meier

sponge and wiping the soup spatter off the wall, where it had landed.

Watching him, Lucy wondered why he bothered. Another stain on the wall would hardly matter. “Sorry,” she said, rousing herself. “Toby already did that. He said they were fine.”

Hearing his name Toby laughed, then picked a cracker out of his soup with his fingers and stuck it on his nose.

“I don’t know if he’s entirely reliable in matters of taste,”

said Bill. “I’ve had a lot more experience when it comes to cookies.”

“You mean you don’t wear them?” asked Lucy.

“Exactly,” said Bill, plucking the cracker off Toby’s nose and popping it in his son’s little mouth. “I know that food goes in the mouth.”

“Down!” ordered Toby, who had lost interest in lunch and was raring to go.

The kettle shrieked as Lucy wiped his hands and face with a washcloth and set him on the floor, where he made a beeline for the wooden crate that served as a pot cupboard. She put tea bags in two mugs, filled them with hot water and arranged a half-dozen cookies on a plate and, stepping nimbly over the pots that Toby was scattering on the floor, carried it all back to the table.

“Mmm,” said Bill, savoring a bite of cookie.

“Mmm,” said Toby.

Bill raised his eyebrows curiously. “Mmm?” he said “MMM,” hummed Toby, louder than before.

“It’s a game Miss Tilley taught him. He loves it.”

Bill’s next mmm was very soft, but Toby didn’t take the hint. His MMMM was louder and longer than ever.

“Is there a way to stop it?” asked Bill, reaching for another cookie.

“Don’t go mmm anymore,” said Lucy.

“MMMMM!”

CANDY CANES OF CHRISTMAS PAST

313

“I will if you will,” said Bill. “So did you have an interesting morning?”

“A lot more interesting than I bargained for. You know that cane I bought for Miss Tilley?” When Bill nodded she continued. “Well, she started to cry when I gave it to her. It seems her mother actually died on Christmas Eve many years ago, this must have been back in the thirties, and a red and white glass cane was found smashed beside her body.”