Christmas Carol Murder (A Lucy Stone Mystery)

Christmas Carol Murder (A Lucy Stone Mystery)

When Jake Marlowe, a co-owner of Downeast Mortgage in Tinker's Cove, Maine, is murdered, and his partner, Ben Scriber, begins receiving death threats after claiming to be visited by Marlowe's ghost, Lucy Stone is on the case. Leslie Meier is the New York Times bestselling author of over twenty Lucy Stone mysteries and has also written for Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine . She is currently at work on the next Lucy Stone mystery. Readers can visit her website at www.LeslieMeier.com CHRISTMAS CAROL MURDER By LESLIE MEIER KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP. Copyright © 2013 Leslie Meier All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-0-7582-7701-5 CHAPTER 1 When the first foreclosure sale of the Great Recessiontook place in Tinker's Cove, Maine, Pennysaver reporter Lucy Stone expected a scene right outof a silent movie. The auctioneer would be a slimy sortof fellow who ran his fingers along his waxed andcurled mustache and cackled evilly, the banker would bea chubby chap whose pocket watch dangled from athick gold chain stretched across his round stomach,and a burly sheriff would be forcibly evicting a noticeablyhungry and poorly clad family from their homewhile his deputies tossed furniture and personal belongingsonto the lawn. The reality, which she discovered when she joined asmall group of people gathered in front of a modestthree-bedroom ranch, was somewhat different. For onething, the house was vacant. The home owners had leftweeks ago, according to a neighbor. "When Jim lost hisjob at the car dealership they realized they couldn't keepup the payments on Patty's income—she was a homehealth aide—so they packed up their stuff and left.Patty's mom has a B and B on Cape Cod, so she's goingto help out there, and Jim's got himself enrolled in anursing program at a community college." "That sounds like a good plan," Lucy said, feelingrather disappointed as she'd hoped to write an emotion-packedhuman interest story. "They're not getting off scot-free," the neighbor said,a young mother with a toddler on her hip. "They'll loseall the money they put in the house—bamboo floors,granite countertops, not to mention all the paymentsthey made—and the foreclosure will be a blot on theircredit rating for years...." Her voice trailed off as theauctioneer called for attention and began reading a lotof legalese. While he spoke, Lucy studied the individuals in thesmall group, who she assumed were planning to bid onthe property in hopes of snagging a bargain. One or twowere even holding white envelopes, most likely containingcertified checks for the ten thousand dollars downspecified in the ad announcing the sale. But when the auctioneer called for bids, Ben Scribner,a partner in Downeast Mortgage, which held the note,opened with $185,000, the principal amount. That wasmore than the bargain hunters were prepared to offer,and they began to leave. Seeing no further offers, theauctioneer declared the sale over and the property nowowned by the mortgage company. Ben, who had thick white hair and ruddy cheeks, wasdressed in the casual outfit of khaki pants and button-downoxford shirt topped by a barn coat favored bybusinessmen in the coastal Maine town. He was aprominent citizen who spoke out at town meetings, generallyagainst any measure that would raise taxes. Hiscompany, Downeast Mortgage, provided financing formuch of the region and there were few people in townwho hadn't done business with him and his partner,Jake Marlowe. Marlowe was well known as a cheapskate,living like a solitary razor clam in that ramshackleVictorian mansion, and he was a fixture on thetown's Finance Committee where he kept an eagle eyeon the town budget. Since that October day three years ago, there had beenmany more foreclosures in Tinker's Cove as the economyground to a standstill. People moved in with relatives,they rented, or they moved on. What they didn't do waslaunch any sort of protest, at least not until now. The fax announcing a Black Friday demonstrationhad come into the Pennysaver from a group at WinchesterCollege calling itself the Social Action Committee, orSAC, which claimed to represent "the ninety-nine percent."The group was calling for an immediate end toforeclosures and was planning a demonstration at theDowneast Mortgage office on the Friday after Thanksgiving,which Lucy had been assigned to cover. When she arrived, a few minutes before the appointedtime of nine a.m., there was no sign of any demonstration.But when the clock on the Community Churchchimed the hour, a row of marchers suddenly issuedfrom the municipal parking lot situated behind thestores that lined Main Street. They were mostly collegestudents who for one reason or other hadn't gone homefor the holiday, as well as a few older people, professorsand local residents Lucy recognized. They were bundledup against the November chill in colorful ski jackets,and they were carrying signs and marching to the beatof a Bruce Springsteen song issuing from a boom box.The leader, wearing