Candy Cane Murder (Hannah Swensen #9.5)(97)

But now that Bill worked at home, weekends were just the same as every other day. He couldn’t take the time, he said, because there was so much work to be done on the house.

And anyway, there wasn’t really anywhere interesting to go.

Tinker’s Cove didn’t offer much in the way of culture apart from the library and the museum, and Lucy was already familiar with them. The movie theater was only open in summer; it closed up tight for the winter. There was nature, of course, lots of it. Acres and acres of woods, lakes and ponds, and the endless expanse of ocean. But, oddly enough, everybody seemed to take it for granted and there was very little public access. Hunters roamed the woods, to be sure, but 326

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there were few easy trails suitable for family hiking. And most of the shore was privately owned, and rocky to boot, except for the little town beach. There was no open expanse for walking, like the beaches she knew on Cape Cod.

So here it was, a bright and sunny Saturday morning, and Lucy was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and leafing through the Pennysaver newspaper, looking for something to do. Toby was by her side, in his high chair, supposedly eating scrambled eggs and toast for breakfast. Maybe he would be the next Jackson Pollack, thought Lucy, watching as he smeared the eggs on the tray.

“Ready to get down?” she asked, reaching for a washcloth to wipe his face and hands.

“No.” He shook his head and began chewing on a toast triangle.

“Okay,” she said, turning the page and studying the “Things to Do” column. That’s what it was called, but there was precious little that interested her. Goodness knows she didn’t need Weight Watchers, she wasn’t interested in seeing the new holiday line of Tupperware products, she didn’t have money to spend on Mary Kay cosmetics and, darn it all, they’d missed the pancake breakfast with Santa at the fire house. “Maybe next year,” she promised Toby. “We’ll keep an eye out for it.”

Toby rewarded her with a big smile, revealing a mouth full of half-chewed chunks of toast. Not a pretty sight, even if he was her own child. She turned back to the paper, where an announcement for an open house at the historical society caught her eye. Maybe someone there would be able to give her some leads on her investigation, especially concerning her prime suspect, Emil Boott. “It says there will be refreshments,”

she promised Toby, ignoring his protests and removing a soggy wad of toast from his little fist and cleaning him up.

“Better save some room for punch and cookies.”

It was almost eleven when Lucy parked Auntie Granada in front of the Josiah Hopkins House and wrestled Toby out of CANDY CANES OF CHRISTMAS PAST

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the car seat. As they walked along the uneven blocks of sidewalk to the open house she examined the antique house that housed the historical society. Built circa 1700, according to a sign next to the front door, the little Cape-style house was supposed to be the oldest house in town. It was named for its builder, Josiah Hopkins, who was reputed to be the first European to settle in Tinker’s Cove. The white clapboard house appeared to be quite small from the front, with a low roof set over two pairs of windows and a center door, but a series of ells had been tacked onto the back as the family grew and stretched in an uneven line that ended at a lopsided barn.

Unsure whether she should knock on the wreathed door or just walk in, Lucy paused on the grindstone that served as a stoop. “I thought there’d be more people,” she told Toby, as she hoisted him up and perched him on her hip. She was just about to knock when the door flew open.

“We saw you coming,” said a little old lady who bore an unnerving resemblance to an apple-head doll. Her hair, which was carefully curled and blued, was an odd contrast to her wrinkled and puckered face. Her eyes, however, were sharp as ever and didn’t miss a thing. “Ellie, Ellie,” she called. “Come and meet this adorable little tyke.”

She was quickly joined by another little apple-head doll of a woman, right down to the matching hair. “Isn’t he the little man!” she proclaimed. “Come in, come in.”

Lucy set Toby on his feet and unzipped his jacket, then grasping him firmly by the hand, introduced herself.

“Oh, you’re the young folks who bought the old farmhouse on Red Top Road,” said Ellie. “Emily, they’re the folks who bought the place out by the Pratts.”

“We’re the Miller sisters,” said Emily. “We’re twins. I’m Emily and this is Ellie.”

“You can tell us apart because I’m the pretty one,” said Ellie, repeating what Lucy suspected was a well-worn joke.

Lucy made a quick mental note, observing that Ellie was wearing the pink twin set and Emily was in blue.

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“Never mind her,” said Emily. “We’re so glad to welcome you to our open house. Do enjoy the house and we’ll be happy to answer any questions you have, and be sure to have some holiday punch and cookies in the dining room.”

“Thank you,” said Lucy, who was admiring the wide plank floors and the simple woodwork which had been painted a deep shade of red. A small fire blazed in the hearth, which was ringed with a simple wooden bench, a rocking chair and a tall settle. Cheery print curtains hung at the windows and a hutch displayed a collection of antique china.

“All the furnishings have been donated by our members,”