Bake Sale Murder
“A bank of clouds was building in the west, and the wind was whipping her hair across her face. Lucy could hear crowd noises and the amplified voice of an announcer calling the plays, punctuated by the band playing a few bars of the school fight song from the football field behind the school.“What’s the matter?” asked Lucy, as her daughter got in the car. It was obvious she had been crying and equally obvious that she didn’t want her mother to know it.“I just don’t feel good,” said Sara, staring straight ahead.“How don’t you feel good? Tired? Nauseous? Headache? Fever?” Lucy took her foot off the brake and proceeded down the drive at a reasonable speed.“Yeah.”“Which?” demanded Lucy, placing her hand on Sara’s forehead to check for a fever.“All of them.”“You don’t have a fever,” said Lucy, turning onto Main Street and heading for the highway.“I guess I’m just tired. I should’ve stayed home, like you said. It’s probably PMS.”Lucy wasn’t buying it.
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