Trick or Treat Murder by Leslie Meier

Lucy hurried up the hill to hear the results of his inspection.

    Entering the hallway once again, she joined the group of anxious volunteers. "He better pass it," whispered Karen Baker. "I hope I didn't get this backache for nothing."

    "Yeah," agreed Lucy. "It would be a shame if we couldn't have the party after everyone did so much work."

    They all watched as Chief Pulaski came down the stairs. There was a hush as the volunteers waited for his announcement.

    "I don't have any problem issuing a temporary occupancy permit," he said, "for one night only—October thirty-one."

    The group joined in a collective sigh of relief.

    "But," he added, raising a cautionary finger, "there will be absolutely no open flames—no candles, no jack-o'-lanterns, nothing like that. I'm satisfied with the temporary wiring—so let's use it. The last thing we need is another tragedy." Everyone nodded agreement.

    "That said, looks like it's gonna be a great party." He signed the certificate with a flourish, and presented it to Sue.

    "Happy Halloween, everybody!" she exclaimed, waving it high above her head in triumph. The mothers and fathers, the high school kids, the scouts all smiled and cheered and congratulated one another.

    "Party on, dudes!" shouted Rickie Goodman, and everybody laughed, even Stubby Phipps. Stubby, Lucy couldn't help noticing, had abandoned his bow tie, and was clutching a walkie-talkie. Not a toy like Rickie's; this was an official police issue hand radio. It looked like Barney had made his first move in the campaign to make Stubby socially acceptable.

    Lucy rounded up the kids and herded them toward the car, thinking of the chores that awaited her at home.

    "Girls, how would you like to bake some cupcakes this afternoon?" she asked, as she made sure everyone was safely strapped in.

    "Yeah," said Sara, her eyes brightening at the thought of licking the icing bowl.

    "Do we have to?" protested Elizabeth.

    Lord, give me strength, prayed Lucy silently, as she started the engine. Backing the car around, she glanced up at the Hallett house one more time. If that psychology book was right, she thought, the towering mansion would present an irresistible temptation to a pyromaniac. Steering the car down the dusty driveway, she couldn't help wondering if the old house would still be stand¬ing for the party next weekend.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

    Lucy was juggling the baby and a cup of coffee on Monday morning when the phone rang and Bill answered upstairs. He was grinning like the proverbial Cheshire cat when he appeared in the kitchen a few minutes later.

    "We won the lottery?" she asked.

    "Not quite—but almost. That was Shelburne Village."

    "No." Lucy's tone was suitably reverent; Shelburne Village was the premier restoration project in New England, maybe the entire country.

    "Yeah. That was them. They saw my letter in Architectural Heritage magazine, and they want me to take a look at a door. They want to know if it's as old as they think it is."

    "Wow. That's great. What an honor."

    "They want me to come today. It's awfully short notice and I'll have to spend the night. Can you manage all alone?"

    "Sure. I'm a big girl."

    "Three kids and a baby—it's an awful lot."

    "I'll manage just fine," insisted Lucy. She would never have admitted it, but she secretly enjoyed Bill's rare absences. It was a chance to relax the rules a bit—instead of cooking meat and potatoes for supper she was already planning to mix up big bowls of macaroni and cheese for the kids to eat in front of the TV. After the hurly-burly of the weekend she was looking forward to having the house, and the baby, to herself.

    So, after the kids left for school, and Bill finally finished pack¬ing and left for his trip to Vermont, and Zoe settled down for her morning nap, Lucy fixed herself a cup of decaf mocha and tackled the bills. If only the kids would turn off the lights once in a while, she thought, writing out a check for $87.73 for the