Sue's eyes widened. "Oh my gosh, I saw... ." She immediately turned toward Sid. "Don't forget the mike, okay?"

He nodded and continued arranging chairs.

"What did you see?" asked Lucy. "Or should I say, who?"

Sue was looking down at the floor. "Dora. I saw Dora," she whispered. "She was right in front of Chanticleer."

"Are you sure? What was she doing?"

"Nothing, really." Sue was hugging herself. "For all I know, she was just walking down the street. But I did say something to Chris about it. Like, how come she wasn't walking on the other side of the street, some stupid crack like that."

"And Chris probably told the cops."

Sue nodded. "I feel sick about it."

"It's not your fault." Lucy squeezed her lips together. "I'm sure the police have other evidence."

"I don't think Dora is a murderer," said Sue, "but we did see her near the scene of the crime."

"Poor Dora. This explains a lot-it seems she had means, motive, and opportunity," said Lucy, realizing a little seed of doubt was sprouting in her mind. "Well, I gotta run. See you later, Sid," she called, heading for the door.

Outside, in the car, she thought about what Sue had said. It certainly didn't look good for Dora. She was probably the only person who had the skill to paint a body with chocolate, and witnesses had seen her at the shop the night of the murder. But as Sue had said, they didn't actually make the chocolates at the Tinker's Cove shop. The copper bowl and the marble-topped table and the other candy-making equipment were just for show. If Dora was the killer, she would have had to bring the chocolate that was used to paint Tamzin's body. How did she do it? And why did she bother? And what happened to Tamzin's clothes? When you thought about it, there were a lot of unanswered questions about the murder.

When she parked in front of the dry cleaners she noticed Trey's Range Rover was also parked on the street; maybe she'd get a chance to ask some of those questions. She hurried inside, hoping to catch him before he left, but there was no need. He was waiting patiently at the counter for the clerk to find his clothes.

"Hi," said Lucy, standing next to him and digging in her purse for the little green receipt. "I'm awfully sorry about Tamzin."

"Thanks, Lucy," he said, in a solemn voice.

"Three-three-oh-four-five, here it is," proclaimed the clerk, a gray-haired woman in her fifties, coming around the wall of hanging, plastic-bagged clothes. "Misplaced," she said by way of explanation, setting Trey's boxed shirts on the counter. "I didn't realize you wanted them boxed." She made it sound like an unreasonable request. "That'll be eight dollars and forty cents."

Trey handed over a ten dollar bill and turned to Lucy. "I'm still in shock, if you want to know the truth. Poor Tamzin. She didn't deserve this."

"Shocking," said the clerk, counting out his change. "I told my boss, there's no way I'm staying here after dark. I'm closing the shop at three-thirty. Folks'll just have to come early."

"It's hardly the sort of thing you'd expect in a little town like this," said Trey.

"It's outrageous! We've had two murders, right here in town." The woman's chin shook with indignation as she shut the cash drawer. "You can't be too careful these days."

"That's for sure," said Lucy, handing her the green slip of paper and turning to Trey. "I know they arrested Dora Fraser-did the police tell you why they suspect her?"

"Pretty obvious, don't you think?" replied Trey. "Tamzin was dating her ex, and then there's the fact her business was suffering due to Chanticleer's success... ."

"Those don't seem very compelling to me," said Lucy, as the clerk hung Bill's suit on the rack. "You're not really in compet.i.tion with Fern's Famous. You attract an entirely different clientele." She paused, remembering how he'd touted the truffles as an affordable luxury, a status symbol. "I mean, you're selling a lot more than chocolate."

Hearing this, Trey's expression hardened, but Lucy didn't give it much thought. She was digging in her purse for her wallet.

"If you ask me, anybody who kills somebody else must have a screw loose," the clerk was saying. "I won't rest easy until she's locked up for good. That'll be eight seventy-five."

Lucy was thoughtful, handing over a twenty. "I suppose the police think she killed Max, too."

"I wouldn't be surprised," sniffed the clerk.

"Dora's sure made a lot of trouble for me. I don't know when the cops are going to let me reopen," said Trey. "And I have to find a new store manager."

Lucy couldn't believe it. Was the man out of his mind? A woman was dead and he was complaining about losing business. "What about Tamzin's family? Have you been in touch? What are the funeral plans?"

For a moment, Trey seemed at a loss. "I haven't really ... I mean, I don't actually know. I'll have to check with HR." He pulled out his iPhone and began texting. "It's early days yet, of course, but the company will help any way we can."

Lucy didn't know what she expected. Sure, there had been rumors about Trey and Tamzin having a relationship, but that didn't mean it was true. Maybe he really was nothing more than her employer. She took Bill's suit off the rack where it was hanging and turned to go, discovering that Trey was holding the door for her.

"Hey!" called the clerk. "Don't forget your change!"

"Oh, right," said Lucy, embarra.s.sed at her mistake. She went back to the counter and Trey continued on his way; she heard him slam the door of the Range Rover before speeding down the street.

The clerk handed Lucy her money. "You know, I thought he and that woman were real close. He was at the shop a lot, and sometimes they left together, when she closed."

"Really?" Lucy was tucking the cash into her wallet.

"Yeah. I have a clear view from here," said the clerk, nodding toward the plate gla.s.s window.

Lucy turned and discovered it was true. The WCVB truck was parked directly opposite, blocking her view of the drugstore, and a reporter was being filmed standing on the sidewalk in front of Chanticleer Chocolate.

"They seemed awfully affectionate," continued the clerk. "She'd be holding his arm and he'd open the car door for her, like a real gentleman. I even saw them kiss a couple of times."

"Not to speak ill of the dead, but I heard Tamzin was a very affectionate girl," said Lucy.

"That sort always gets in trouble," said the clerk, clucking her tongue.

Leaving the store with Bill's suit, Lucy wondered about Trey and Tamzin's relationship. They had seemed quite friendly when she'd interviewed them, but she hadn't really thought anything serious was going on between them. Now it seemed she may have underestimated their relationship. Or maybe the clerk had overestimated it. Two good-looking people, single, working together. It wasn't like they were kids or anything, they were a man and a woman and these things happened. It didn't necessarily mean they were truly intimate and involved in each other's lives.

And Tamzin wasn't shy about making her availability known. She might even have been using her s.e.xuality to advance professionally. She certainly wouldn't be the first woman who'd slept her way to the top. And, to his credit, Trey had seemed shaken by her death.

Maybe he was still in shock, she thought, carefully hanging Bill's clean suit inside the car. A sudden loss could make your mind play tricks, make you forget details. She remembered how she'd struggled to remember appointments and keep the family on track after her mother died. Come to think of it, she was still struggling, but now it was just due to an overpacked schedule.

Lucy slid behind the wheel and consulted her list. Next stop: the post office. She had a box of books and clothing that Elizabeth had asked her to send to her in Florida.

Lucy was thoughtful, wondering if some small choice might have changed the direction of Tamzin's life and saved her from her terrible fate. If her mother, perhaps, had insisted she dress more modestly, or if her father had encouraged her to study harder and become a professional. What if she'd become a doctor instead of a chocolate shop manager? What if she'd taken another path and become a famous actress? Could she have changed her destiny? It was impossible to know; she didn't really know anything about Tamzin's background. She didn't know if she'd slipped down the social ladder, or if working at Chanticleer Chocolate was a step up; she had no idea what obstacles Tamzin had faced.

Lucy was wondering what information Tamzin's obituary might provide when she rounded the corner by the Quik-Stop and saw an ambulance with its lights flashing parked by the air machine. Slowing for a better look, she saw her friend Barney sitting on the raised concrete slab that protected the gas pumps, with his head in his hands. What was going on? She pulled off the road and parked, then hurried to his side. As she approached she saw he was crying; tears were rolling down his crumpled bulldog face.

"Barney! What's the matter?"

He looked up, blinked, and brushed at his eyes with his gloved hands.

"It's Eddie," he said.

Lucy looked around and spotted Marge's car, which Eddie had been borrowing, parked by the Dumpster, apparently undamaged. A sudden wail of the siren indicated the ambulance was leaving; she watched as it departed, lights flashing. A police cruiser remained, and Officer Todd Kirwan approached with a sympathetic expression.

"They're taking him to the hospital," he said, leaning down and touching Barney's shoulder. "They think he's going to make it."

Barney nodded, but made no effort to move.

"What happened?" asked Lucy.

Todd turned to her, speaking softly. "It's his kid. Just back from Afghanistan. He OD'd."

"Eddie? On drugs?"

Todd nodded. "Heroin. He was shooting up, we found the needle."

Lucy's eyes widened. Now Frankie's suspicions about Eddie and Lily didn't seem so ridiculous. But what a terrible waste. She knew drugs were a problem everywhere, Tinker's Cove included. She'd seen the number of arrests rising, she'd written a number of obituaries for young people who didn't seem to have much going on in their lives but had loved animals, had lots of friends, and died unexpectedly of unexplained causes. She'd had her suspicions but somehow she'd managed to insulate herself. She'd been in denial, thinking drugs were something that happened to other people. She had never been personally affected, until now.

"It's everywhere," said Todd.

"Come on, Barney," she said, taking his huge hands in hers. "I'll give you a ride to the hospital."

He looked up at her. "I've got to get Marge." He shook his head. "How am I gonna tell her?"

"We'll go together," she said. "Where is she? Home?"

Barney seemed to be struggling to remember, trying to see through his fogged emotions. "She was taking a cake to that dessert contest."

Good heavens, thought Lucy, thinking of the now-crowded church hall, filled with happy, busy volunteers getting ready for the contest. Poor Marge! She'd just gotten her son back, safe and sound, from the war and now she might lose him. It was too cruel.

"Come on," she said, tugging at Barney's hands. Slowly he rose to his feet.

"You go back to the station, file the report," he told Todd.

The young officer nodded. "I hope, uh, I hope Eddie's okay."

"Yeah," said Barney, straightening his shoulders. He turned to Lucy. "Let's go."

It was only a short drive to the Community Church, where Marge was just coming out of the door, an empty pie basket slung over her arm. She was wearing a flattering knit hat and scarf that matched her green eyes and smiled as they pulled up, recognizing Lucy's car. When she noticed Barney in the pa.s.senger seat, her brow furrowed in concern.

Lucy braked and Barney got out, slowly, and lumbered clumsily across the sidewalk to his wife's side. He lowered his head, speaking to her, and Lucy saw Marge's face crumple. Then, taking Barney's arm, she hurried to get in the car.

"Let's go, Lucy," she said, taking charge. "As fast as you can."

In a matter of minutes Lucy reached the small "cottage" hospital that served the town's basic medical needs; the ambulance was parked outside the ER entrance. Lucy dropped Marge and Barney off at the door and parked the car. When she joined them in the waiting room, they were talking to Doc Ryder.

"He was lucky," the doctor was saying. "A few minutes later and, well, this story would have a different ending."

"He's going to be okay?" asked Lucy.

"Well, let's just say his chances are good at the moment," said the doctor. He took Lucy's elbow and guided her to a corner of the waiting room, apart from Marge and Barney. "We've got a real problem on our hands," he said, shaking his head. "This is the third overdose this week."

Lucy's jaw dropped. "Third?" She knew that Tinker's Cove was a small town, with a population of less than five thousand. Three overdoses in one week const.i.tuted an epidemic.

"It's out of control," said Doc Ryder. "We've always had a problem with drugs here in town but I've never seen it this bad. The stuff is pouring in from somewhere."

Lucy knew that illegal drugs had long been available to those who wanted them, but it wasn't terribly obvious. There were plenty of secluded areas in town where deals could be conducted; plenty of places where a user could get a fix un.o.bserved. Police occasionally made a bust and sometimes the illicit traffic erupted in violence, as it had last year when Rick Juergens and Slash Milley were murdered. But most people in town had little or no contact with drugs except those they bought with a prescription.

"People need to know what's going on," said Doc Ryder, peering at her over his half-moon gla.s.ses.

"I'll see what I can do," said Lucy. "I'll check with Ted and give you a call next week."

"You know how to reach me," said the doctor, giving her a nod before going back to Marge and Barney. They made a tight little circle and Lucy felt it was time for her to go; she wasn't needed here. She suddenly felt an overwhelming need to make sure the girls were okay, to rea.s.sure herself that they were safe and sound and straight.

Chapter Fifteen.

Lucy was leaving the hospital when she saw Max's big old silver pickup truck speed into the icy parking lot, taking the turn too fast. She held her breath, watching as the driver zoomed into a vacant spot and braked hard. The door opened and Lily jumped out, still wearing her red-and-white-striped ap.r.o.n with the FERN'S FAMOUS FUDGE logo.

Lucy waited inside the doorway and grabbed the girl's arm as she hurried in.

"Eddie's going to be okay," she said. "You can slow down."

Lily whirled around. "Let me go," she said, pulling her arm away. The girl was a nervous wreck, twitching and shivering.

"Take it easy," said Lucy, in mother mode. "Everything's going to be okay."

Even as she spoke she realized how ridiculous her words were. Things weren't okay for Lily, far from it. Her father had been murdered, her mother was in jail, and her boyfriend had just overdosed.

"Where's Eddie?"

"In the ER," said Lucy, pointing down the hall.

Lily started to run off and Lucy called after her. "His mom and dad are already there."

Lily stopped in her tracks and suddenly hunched over, as if in pain. "They are?"

Concerned, Lucy approached her. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." Lily was nodding like a bobble-head doll. "What are they doing here?"

"They're his parents, they love him." Lily was clearly in some distress, trembling from head to toe. "Do you want me to take you to them?"

"No!" she shouted. "No, no, no!"

"Okay," said Lucy, who was completely confused. "Let me buy you a cup of tea," she suggested. "It will warm you up and help you relax."

"Tea." Lily said the word slowly, as if she'd never heard of it.