St. Patrick's Day Murder by Leslie Meier

ruffled baby dolls, and had carefully stitched loops of ribbon to the backs to create colorful wings.
    “Those are great,” enthused Lucy. “They look like they could really fly.”
    “All fairies can fly,” said Deirdre.
    “Of course, they can,” said Lucy. She was beginning to be a little disturbed by Deirdre’s unwavering belief in otherworldly creatures and couldn’t help adding a cautionary warning. “Maybe fairies can fly, but you’re not a fairy. You’re a human girl,” said Lucy, “and humans can’t fly. Right?”
    “I flew in an airplane,” said Deirdre.
    “Right. Humans can fly in airplanes and helicopters, but even if they put on wings, they can’t fly like fairies can.”
    “Mommy and I pretended we were fairies when we were in the airplane. We flew through the clouds,” replied Deirdre.
    “That must have been fun,” said Lucy, joining in the make-believe. “And what about Daddy? Did he fly through the clouds, too, like the king of the fairies?”
    “I don’t know,” said Deirdre. “He wasn’t with us.”
    “He sat in another part of the plane?” asked Lucy, suddenly interested.
    “No. He was on another plane. He left before us.”
    “The same day?” asked Lucy.
    “No. Mommy and I went to Gram’s after he left, for a visit. Then we put on our fairy wings and flew to America, where he was waiting for us.”
    My, my, wasn’t this interesting, thought Lucy, who had assumed the family arrived together. But if Dylan had indeed arrived earlier, she realized, he didn’t have an alibi, and he couldn’t be excluded as a suspect. It wasn’t a pleasant thought, especially since he had a wife and child, and she hoped he wasn’t the murderer. She smiled at Deirdre, who was making her Barbie swoop through the air.
    “Just remember,” said Lucy, recalling stories she’d heard of children jumping off roofs, under the impression they were superheroes, “fairy wings only work inside airplanes.”
    “C’mon, Deirdre,” said Zoe, taking her friend’s hand. “Let’s go back upstairs and make a house for the fairies.”
    The two little girls had started up the stairs together when there was a tap at the kitchen door.
    “It’s Molly!” shrieked Zoe, dropping Deirdre’s hand and skipping across the kitchen. “Molly’s here!”
    “Hi, Zoe,” said Molly, closing the door behind her. “Who’s your friend?”
    “This is Deirdre. She’s from Ireland,” said Zoe.
    “It’s nice to meet you, Deirdre,” said Molly, extending her hand in greeting to Deirdre, who took it and gave a polite shake.
    “Molly is my brother Toby’s girlfriend,” said Zoe. “They’re going to have a baby.”
    Lucy dumped the beans into a pot and set it on the stove. “You girls go on and play now,” she said. “Molly and I want to visit.” She pulled a chair out from under the table and turned to Molly, eying her bulging tummy. “Take a load off your feet.”
    “Oh, I can’t stay. I just came to borrow some molasses. If you have any, that is.”
    “I bought some at Christmas, for cookies,” said Lucy, dragging the step stool over to a corner cupboard. She climbed up and began shifting jars and cans around on the shelves.
    “I have the worst yen for molasses cookies,” said Molly, easing into the chair and rubbing her stomach.
    Deirdre remained in the kitchen despite Zoe’s tugs, staring at Molly. “Does it hurt to have a baby inside you?” she asked.
    Molly laughed. “No. It doesn’t hurt to have it inside. It’s getting it out that hurts. At least, that’s what I hear. I never had a baby before.”
    Lucy gave Molly a sharp look. “Birth is a natural process. It’s something our bodies are designed to do,” she said, with a nod to the girls.
    “Sadie says sometimes they cut the baby out,” said Zoe, undermining Lucy’s attempt to present childbirth in a positive light.
    “That’s true,” said Molly. “It’s called a caesarean.”
    “That must really hurt,” said