Christmas Carol Murder (A Lucy Stone Mystery) by Leslie Meier

shudder, when you were afraid to open the packages that were such a feature of the holiday season. Even worse, she’d done most of her shopping this year on the Internet, which meant a steady stream of packages was already coming to the house.
    It was almost lunchtime when she reached Tinker’s Cove, so she took a detour through the McDonald’s drive-through, but when she studied the menu she had another surge of nausea and ended up driving on without ordering. Phyllis and Ted were both out, so she quickly typed up the press conference story, skipping over the most gruesome details. The Pennysaver was a family newspaper, she rationalized, and she didn’t want to give anybody nightmares. It was bad enough knowing she’d have trouble sleeping tonight herself.
    She had finished the story and was sending it to Ted’s file for editing when Phyllis arrived, carrying several large shopping bags with the Country Cousins logo.
    “Christmas shopping?” Lucy asked.
    “Yeah.” Phyllis set down the bags and unbuttoned her coat. “Ted’s at that conference today and I figured I might not get another chance to shop for Wilf. Togetherness is great—but I want his presents to be a surprise. I got him that fancy thermal underwear he’s been talking about—and some snazzy pajamas.”
    “I’m all done, thanks to the Internet,” Lucy said, wishing she could go home and take the dog for a walk, anything to clear her head and lift her mood, but that was out of the question so close to deadline. She needed to work on something that would catch her interest, so she decided to tackle the foreclosure story, and called Annie Kraus, who now worked part-time in the health department.
    When she identified herself and explained the reason for her call, Annie was reluctant to talk. “I don’t know, Lucy,” she said. “I don’t want everybody in town to know about my troubles.”
    “I don’t have to use your name,” Lucy said.
    “People will know it’s me,” Annie objected.
    “Well, if they already know, they might as well get the whole story,” Lucy replied. “People need to know that low taxes come with a high price.”
    “That’s a good one, Lucy,” Annie said.
    “Maybe a headline,” Lucy said.
    “Okay. Well, what happened to me and Larry is pretty much the same thing that happened to a lot of people. We found a cute little house that was just perfect for us. It was the cheapest house in town, but even so it was priced quite high. They were eager to help us over at Downeast, however, and signed us up with an adjustable rate mortgage. It started out at a very low interest rate but then it jumped up after a few years. By that time prices were already falling, the mortgage was for more than the house was worth, but we were managing to make the payments. Just managing. Then my hours were cut and it didn’t make any sense for us to sacrifice everything to keep the house. The stress was taking a toll on our relationship, Larry and I weren’t really getting along, so we decided to separate and I went back home to live with my parents.”
    “What about Larry?” Lucy asked, thinking that losing his wife and his home could certainly make a fellow angry. That anger might have motivated him to send the mail bomb.
    “Oh, he reenlisted in the coast guard. He’s on a high-endurance cutter somewhere in the Caribbean, fighting the war against drugs.” She paused. “He’s got a leave coming up and I’m hoping we’ll get back together.”
    “I hope it works out for you,” Lucy said, thanking Annie and crossing Larry off her list of suspects, feeling rather ashamed of herself for suspecting a man who was serving his country.
    The next town employee on her list was Nelson Macmillan, who was now a part-time natural resources officer. When she called him he was more than happy to chat; he said he had a lot of free time on his hands these days.
    “It was an investment,” he said. “I was caught up in the real estate craze, and