Father’s Day Murder Read Free

started working for his father. Now he was supposed to earn his keep.
    â€œNo!” barked Bill, pointing a finger at him. “That was your job.” He jabbed a finger at him. “You! You were supposed to put in a brace.”
    Toby’s face was beet red and his chin was quivering.
    â€œWhy didn’t you explain that to me, Dad? Why?”
    Bill threw up his hands. “God almighty, do I have to explain everything? This is a job your average idiot could do with his eyes closed and one hand tied behind his back.”
    Toby didn’t answer; he fled to the rattletrap Jeep he’d bought with money borrowed from Sara, the family miser, and sped off, spraying gravel.
    Bill turned to Lucy. “Can you believe that kid?”
    Lucy didn’t want to answer. She figured anything she could say would only make Bill madder, so she just shook her head.
    â€œCan’t you say something?” demanded Bill.
    She was spared having to answer by Kudo, who suddenly ran by with a limp chicken in his mouth. Proof positive that once again he’d gotten into Mrs. Pratt’s chicken house.
    â€œI’ll call and find out how much damage he did,” said Lucy, heading for the house.
    â€œYou’d better catch him and tie him up first,” said Bill, picking up the crowbar. “You know, Lucy, I can’t guarantee that beast will be here when you get back from Boston.”
    Lucy had heard these threats before and didn’t take them seriously. She knew Bill was really fond of Kudo. She suspected that he pretended to be antagonistic so he wouldn’t be asked to help take care of the dog. She shrugged and went inside to get the box of dog treats she kept handy for calling the dog. He could hear her shaking it from miles away, and the sound never failed to bring him home, drooling with anticipation. When she came back out of the house, however, she realized Bill’s truck was gone.
    â€œGreat,” she muttered, shaking the jar furiously. Now she didn’t have a ride to the bus.
    A half hour later she had locked the dog in the house and had tracked Elizabeth down at her friend Jenna’s house. Impressing upon her the gravity of the situation—that she was going to miss the bus unless Elizabeth returned home immediately with the Subaru—took a bit of doing.
    â€œBut, Mom, you said I could have the car while you’re gone.”
    â€œI’m not gone yet, Elizabeth. And unless you take me to the bus stop I won’t be gone at all.”
    â€œOkay, Mom. I’ll be right there.”
    She had plenty of time, she told herself, trying to stay calm. At least forty-five minutes. Plenty of time. No reason to panic. She’d go upstairs and get her suitcase and Elizabeth would no doubt be pulling into the driveway when she came down. After all, it was only five minutes to Jenna’s house.
    But when Lucy came out on the porch with her jacket and purse slung over her arm and towing her wheeled suitcase, there was no sign of Elizabeth or the car. She went back in the house and reached for the phone.
    â€œJenna,” she said, struggling to keep a level voice. “Is Elizabeth still there?”
    â€œOh, hi, Mrs. Stone. Yup, Elizabeth is right here.”
    â€œCould I please speak to her?”
    â€œSure thing.”
    When she heard Elizabeth on the other end of the line, she could barely contain her fury.
    â€œRight now. This minute. Get in the car. Understand?”
    Elizabeth understood. Minutes later she rolled into the driveway, loud music pouring from the station wagon’s open windows. Lucy threw her suitcase into the back and climbed into the passenger side.
    â€œThere are hamburgers for supper. Dad can grill them. There’s macaroni salad all made, and you can slice up some tomatoes.”
    â€œSure thing, Mom.”
    From her spritely tone and the way her head was bobbing along to a Janet Jackson tune, Lucy doubted she’d heard a