Read Online Father’s Day Murder by Leslie Meier - Free Book Online Page A

the deposed president of the Philippines?”
    The glum woman screwed up her face, as if she’d like to say more.
    â€œSo let me get this. Harold is Luther’s brother and he publishes that conservative New Hampshire paper, the Republican?”
    â€œAnd the Republican is that conservative—” continued Lucy.
    â€œReactionary,” said the glum woman, sounding like a teacher correcting a student.
    â€œâ€™Course, that’ll all change if National Media takes over,” predicted Herb. “It’ll be as bleached and bland as Wonder bread, and heavy on the feel-good features.” He snorted. “It’s enough to make you puke. I for one hope Luther does tell those bastards to keep their money.” He paused, registering the fact that everyone at the table had their fruit cup except him. “Where the hell’s my fruit salad?”
    â€œThe waiter ran out,” said Harriet. “Look, he’s bringing it now.”
    Conversation died down throughout the banquet room as the stuffed chicken breasts were served, and Lucy’s table was no exception, apart from the occasional complaint from Herb.
    â€œHow come they don’t cook vegetables anymore?” he grumbled, chasing a piece of carrot with his fork.
    â€œThey’re crisp-tender,” said Harriet. “That’s so they keep the vitamins.”
    â€œFit for goats, that’s what it is,” said Herb, shoving the vegetables aside and concentrating on his chicken. “And the portions are so small. There’s not enough food here to feed my two-year-old grandson.”
    Lucy had no complaints about her dinner. Anything was fine with her as long as she didn’t have to cook it. She was thoroughly enjoying her chicken and rice pilaf and assorted spring vegetables.
    The waiters had begun to clear away the entrees and were pouring coffee when Lucy noticed a flurry of activity at the Reads’ table. Luther was apparently having an allergic reaction of some kind. He was sneezing uncontrollably, coughing, and wiping his eyes. Harold handed him a handkerchief and he seemed better for a moment or two; then the sneezing and coughing started again. Aware that he was drawing attention, Luther covered his mouth and nose with the handkerchief and hurried out of the room, reaching into his jacket pocket as he went. He was obviously headed for the privacy of the men’s room, where he intended to treat himself with an inhaler or other allergy medication.
    Lucy was just finishing her dessert—a thin wedge of very rich chocolate cake sitting in a pool of raspberry sauce—when a man stepped to the microphone in the front of the room and asked for silence. The program, he said, was going to begin in a few minutes, as soon as the waiters finished clearing.
    Hearing this news, Junior got to his feet and left the hall, presumably in search of his father. It was only a moment or two later that he returned in some agitation.
    â€œWe need an ambulance,” Lucy heard him say to the man in charge of the program. “My father’s collapsed.”
    Several people hurried out of the room, along with several members of the Read party, including Harold. Catherine, Monica, and Inez remained at the table with Syrjala, trying unsuccessfully not to look anxious.
    People from the other tables, however, began drifting to the door, curious to see what was going on. That brought the emcee back to the microphone.
    â€œPlease stay in your seats,” he said. “We’re going to start the program with a short film, a biography of Luther Read.”
    Before the film could be started, however, the rumors began to spread from table to table. Luther Read was dead of a drug overdose. Luther Read had suffered a heart attack and was at this very moment being rushed to Boston Medical in critical condition. No, it was Mass General, and it wasn’t a heart attack, it was a stroke, and he was completely