Christmas Cookie Murder #6 by Leslie Meier

It’s like they’re walking wounded.”
    â€œYou’re right.” Sue’s voice was so sad that Lucy struggled for some way to console her.
    â€œYou gave her something wonderful, you know. You gave her the job at the center and she discovered her vocation—that she wanted to work with kids. She loved working at the center, everybody says so. And she was perfect for it. She was bright and happy and full of energy.” Lucy paused, hearing the kids arriving home from school in the kitchen downstairs. “That’s how I’m going to remember her. Now, I’ve got to go. It sounds as if the Mongol hordes have found the refrigerator.”
    â€œI better let you go, then.” Sue sniffled. “Thanks for everything, Lucy. Talking to you really helped.”
    â€œAnytime. Now, for my next challenge: preventing World War III.”
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    In the kitchen, Lucy found Eddie and Toby with their heads buried in the refrigerator. Elizabeth was perched on the counter, legs crossed, doing her best to catch Eddie’s eye. Sara was prying open a yogurt carton, not having bothered to remove her coat, and Zoe was precariously balanced on a kitchen chair trying to reach the cookies in the cabinet high above the stove.
    â€œHi, Eddie,” began Lucy. “Elizabeth—off the counter. Zoe, don’t climb on chairs, it’s dangerous. Sara, hang up your coat. Toby, reach that bag of gingersnaps for me.”
    Lucy set out a plate of cookies and poured big glasses of milk for the boys. Elizabeth didn’t want any; she fled from calories like a vampire avoided the rays of the sun. Sara took the yogurt into the family room and Zoe renewed her efforts to scale the kitchen cabinets, this time looking for the chocolate syrup.
    Lucy pried her loose and joined the boys at the kitchen table, planting Zoe in her lap.
    â€œSo, are you going to work on those college applications today?” she asked. She turned her gaze on Toby. “As I remember, you owe me one, and today’s a good day to make good.”
    Toby grimaced and popped a cookie in his mouth. Eddie shifted his bulky frame in the chair and leaned back, brushing his crew cut with his hand. Lucy was struck yet again by how much he resembled his father, Barney.
    â€œYou don’t want to be a cop, like your dad?” Lucy realized she had spoken without intending to.
    Eddie’s face reddened; he looked uncomfortable. “Nah,” he finally said, reaching for another cookie.
    â€œHe just likes to eat—that’s why he wants to go to cooking school.” Toby punched Eddie’s shoulder.
    Lucy shook her head. They might be bigger, she thought, but they behaved just like the little Cub Scouts who used to cluster around her kitchen table every week.
    â€œDid you bring the applications?”
    Eddie nodded and pulled a thick sheaf of papers from his backpack.
    â€œWell, it looks as if you guys have your work cut out for you. Why don’t you get started—just jot down some ideas for those essays. I’ll see how you’re doing in about half an hour, OK?”
    â€œSure thing, Mom,” said Toby, pulling his own pile of papers toward him and opening the top folder.
    â€œCall me if you get stuck,” she said, heading downstairs to the washer and dryer.
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    From time to time Lucy peeked in the kitchen and saw the boys bent over the table, apparently deeply immersed in the applications. When she noticed it was beginning to get dark, she decided to ask Eddie to stay for dinner. But when she went into the kitchen she found the boys had disappeared, leaving the papers behind. Leafing through the printed forms she saw that only the most basic questions had been answered; there was no sign of any progress on the questions that required essays.
    â€œJanuary 1. These are due January 1,” she muttered to herself, looking out the window.
    There was no sign of the boys in the yard, so she