Easter Bunny Murder by Leslie Meier Page A

looking about expectantly, while others were dozing, heads drooping and chins resting on their chests.
    Lucy placed herself in front of a window so the light, what there was of it, would be at her back, and got her camera ready. Felicity Corcoran, the activities director, clapped her hands and made a brief introduction. Someone flipped a switch and the familiar strains of the Easter Parade song were heard. Zoe was first, leading a sleek but nervous greyhound togged out in a blue jacket and top hat. They were followed by a bouncy little terrier in a straw bonnet, a dachshund with a polka-dot ruff around its neck, and an enormous black lab in a pink tutu.
    Lucy snapped photos until there was a break in the parade, when she turned to the woman seated next to her who seemed bright and alert even though she was receiving oxygen from a portable tank on wheels. “What do you think of the show?” Lucy asked.
    â€œWhat did you say?” the woman asked, leaning forward and cupping a hand around her ear.
    â€œWhat do you think of the show?” shouted Lucy.
    â€œI think they’ll have cupcakes,” replied the woman. “Or maybe cookies.”
    â€œWhat’s your name?” asked Lucy, pen poised.
    â€œI used to have a dog, a cocker spaniel,” said the woman. “It got hit by a car.”
    â€œOh, dear.” Lucy patted her on the shoulder and moved along to another resident, a white-haired woman who was engaged in a lively conversation with her neighbor, an old guy wearing a golf cap.
    â€œHi!” said Lucy, introducing herself. “What do you think of the show?”
    â€œIt’s very nice,” said the woman in a soft voice.
    â€œTerrific,” boomed her companion. “I like dogs. All dogs. If I wasn’t stuck here, I’d have a bunch of dogs.”
    â€œWhich is your favorite?” asked Lucy, as a squabble broke out between the cute terrier and a collie. Bits of straw and artificial flowers went flying as the two went for each other, growling and baring their teeth.
    â€œI’d put my money on the terrier,” said the old guy. “What do you say, Madge? A fiver?”
    Madge shook her head. “Harvey, you know I don’t gamble.”
    â€œShe’s born-again,” said Harvey with a snort. “A holy roller.”
    Madge smiled and rolled her eyes. “He’s just teasing—he knows I’m not one of those Evangelicals. I’m a Methodist.”
    The unruly dogs had been removed and the music was starting again when Harvey tugged on Lucy’s sleeve. “Don’t tell anyone,” he whispered in her ear. “Madge is really a millionaire.”
    Madge’s cheeks got even pinker. “Don’t listen to him.”
    â€œIt’s true. You told me yourself,” said Harvey. “You said that by rights you ought to be rolling in the stuff.”
    â€œWell, ought and is are two different things,” said Madge. “If it wasn’t for Medicaid, I’d be living under a bridge somewhere.”
    â€œYou know that’s not true.” Lucy was surprised to recognize Izzy Scannell, the gardener from Pine Point. “You know I’ll always have a room for you.”
    Madge raised her cheek for a kiss and Izzy bent down to plant one on her cheek. “This is better, dear. This way we both have our independence.”
    Lucy smiled at Izzy. “Is she your mother?”
    â€œYup.” Izzy gave Madge a hug. “Mom, this is my friend Lucy Stone.”
    Madge held out a small, plump hand and Lucy took it. “Margaret Scannell, but everybody calls me Madge. I’m pleased to meet you.”
    â€œSame here,” said Lucy. “I work for the newspaper. Can you give me a quote, your reaction to the pet parade?”
    â€œIt’s adorable—but . . .”
    â€œShe’d rather have a beer!” exclaimed Harvey, slapping his knee.
    â€œDon’t be silly, Harvey,”