Mistletoe Murder by Leslie Meier Page B

with Sara still sick and a long list of things to do, she felt frantic at the prospect of another trip to town.
    â€œMom, I’d love to help, but I just can’t drive you today.”
    â€œI could drive myself. I have a license.”
    This was news to Lucy. “You do? Dad always drove.”
    â€œHe did, but I never let my license expire. I’ve been out a few times and I’ve done quite well.”
    â€œIn the city?” Lucy was incredulous.
    â€œOnly around the neighborhood, but I’m sure I could manage these roads. There isn’t much traffic.”
    â€œOkay,” Lucy agreed. She certainly wasn’t going to discourage her. In fact, new possibilities were opening before her. “Would you mind picking up a few things for me?”
    Lucy watched as her mother drove the Subaru very cautiously down the long driveway. As she turned out onto the road a large egg truck swerved to avoid her, narrowly missing a collision, but she continued on her way. Lucy wasn’t sure if her mother had noticed or not. She sighed. There was nothing she could do now except send up a quick prayer and keep her fingers crossed. She poured herself a second cup of coffee and sat down with the morning paper. She wanted to find a kitten for the kids to replace poor Patches, so she turned to the classifieds.
    The first ad she saw read “Kute, Kuddly, Kristmas Kittens.” Lucy chuckled and dialed the number, but the woman who answered told her that the kittens were all gone. She hung up and turned back to the paper to check the next ad. “Free to a good home,” it read. “Pretty Calico Kittens.”
    â€œI’m calling about the kittens,” began Lucy when the woman answered.
    â€œWe do have some kittens,” the voice admitted cautiously. “But we want to make sure they’ll be well taken care of.”
    â€œWe’ve had lots of cats. We’re very experienced cat owners, and I can promise we’ll take good care of the kitten,” Lucy promised.
    â€œHow many cats do you have?” inquired the voice.
    â€œNone at the moment,” Lucy confessed. “Our last cat was killed. . . .” The moment she said it she realized her mistake. She should have said “died of old age,” but she continued, hoping to convince the kitten owner that she was not a kitten abuser. “Our children have been very upset. They miss old Patches very much, and I was hoping to give them a new kitten for Christmas.”
    â€œYou have children?” The voice was shocked. “I’m sorry, but our kittens are not used to children. Good-bye.”
    Lucy tapped her fingers on the table and looked at the next ad. She scratched her head thoughtfully and thought about Culpepper’s ad in Modern Mercenary magazine. Someone had read those ads looking for a hit man to kill Sam Miller just as she had gone through the ads looking for a kitten. When she didn’t get a satisfactory response, she just went on to the next ad. And whoever had called Culpepper had probably just gone on to the next ad when he’d refused the job.
    Lucy dialed the next number. She heard the phone ring six times and was about to hang up when she heard the receiver being picked up. She could hear a baby crying in the background.
    â€œHello?”
    â€œHi,” piped a child’s voice.
    â€œCan I speak to your mommy?”
    â€œOkay.” There was a long silence. Lucy thought of the times she’d found the receiver lying on the counter, the caller forgotten, as some distraction interrupted Sara or Elizabeth as they searched for her.
    â€œHello?” said a grown-up voice.
    â€œI’m calling about the kittens,” Lucy said.
    â€œHow many do you want?”
    â€œJust one.”
    â€œHow about two? Two are definitely more fun than one.”
    â€œTwo would cause fights,” said Lucy, suddenly overcome with Christmas spirit. “Do you have