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“Needs a muffler,” observed Tony.
“Do you think he’ll make it to New Hampshire?” asked Corney.
“Quite a character,” observed Bert. “Quite a character.”
Lucy decided to snap a few more photos of the Easter basket, and paused to check them on her phone. The photos didn’t really do the fabulous egg sculpture justice, she decided. It looked an awful lot like the plastic eggs that used to contain a popular brand of pantyhose.
* * *
The Easter basket promotion was in full swing later that week when Lucy joined her friends at their usual Thursday morning breakfast. The group, which included Sue Finch, Rachel Goodman, and Pam Stillings, began the weekly gathering when their nests emptied and they could no longer count on casual encounters at their kids’ school and sports events. The group had grown closer through the years, offering advice and support as they faced life’s challenges.
Pam, who was married to Lucy’s boss at the paper, Ted, had been a cheerleader in high school and retained her pony tail and her rah-rah enthusiasm. She was quite excited about supporting the promo, but admitted she’d only earned one sticker, and that was at the pharmacy when she picked up a prescription. “It’s just so convenient to shop online,” she said, digging into her yogurt-granola parfait. “I’ve arranged regular shipments of earth-friendly cleaning products, Stitch-in-Time sends me clothes on approval every six weeks or so, I get a box of Nearly Perfect groceries every two weeks, cat food and litter, even toilet paper all come right to the house. I hardly ever have to go to the store.”
“But don’t you miss shopping?” asked Sue, the group’s fashionista, who frequented the discount mall on Route 1 looking for designer mark downs. “I love finding a good bargain; I got some beautiful Ralph Lauren towels last week on close-out. Sooo thick and soft, top quality and much cheaper than anything here in town.” She paused to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear with a beautifully manicured hand and took a sip of coffee. “Of course, I’ll do my part. I’m sure I can collect my ten stickers, too. Sid needs some new work boots and I’ve had my eye on a jacket at the Trading Company—I don’t exactly need another jacket but it’s so cute and it would be for a good cause.”
Rachel was shaking her head in disapproval. “As it is, we’re wallowing in stuff. We’ve all got too much stuff, things we don’t need. We’re constantly told that this new product will make us happy, it will satisfy our need for comfort and reassurance. Advertisers tear us down, telling us we have bad breath, or our hair isn’t shiny enough, or we’re too fat and the solution to all these problems is to buy their products. Even peace of mind is for sale, thanks to insurance companies.” She picked a chunk off her Sunshine muffin. “Material things can’t fill emotional needs.” She glanced at Sue. “New towels can’t provide human connection.”
“Well, actually,” began Sue, smiling wickedly, “Sid was quite interested in helping me try out the new towels after my bath last night.”
“My point exactly,” insisted Rachel. “You and Sid have a healthy relationship, with or without new towels.”
“Well, I’ve barely got time to shop online or in person,” complained Lucy, poking a toast triangle into an egg yolk. “Or the money. Gas gets more expensive every fill-up, groceries keep going up, I am struggling to stick with my budget and I don’t think I’m alone. I think a lot of folks in Tinker’s Cove are struggling to make ends meet.”
“Well said,” offered Norine, the waitress, approaching with a fresh pot of coffee. “More coffee, anyone?”
When Lucy went out that afternoon to conduct some man-on-the-street interviews about the Easter Basket promotion, she found that merchants and townsfolk alike were enthusiastic. “We all need stuff this time of year anyway,” said Dottie Halmstead, exiting the hardware store with a bag of seed-starter mix and several packets of tomato seeds.
“It’s nice to get a little reward,” said Lydia Volpe, a retired kindergarten teacher Lucy met coming out of the bookstore. “I don’t think we ever outgrow stickers.”
Stopping by at Country Cousins, the general store that had pioneered catalog shopping and had now morphed into an e-commerce giant, Lucy found shoppers were stocking up on Easter treats and eagerly collecting the stickers. “We’re in danger of running out,” confessed Barb Conners. “We’ve had to order more. Everybody wants the stickers.”
Stepping out of the store and onto the porch, where one bench was labeled “Republicans” and the other “Democrats,” Lucy paused to watch the town’s two police cars race down Main Street, sirens blaring and lights flashing. Probably an accident out on Route 1, she thought, but soon realized she was wrong. The two cruisers didn’t continue on out of town, but screeched to a halt at the bank. Hoisting her bag on her shoulder, she hurried down the street, eager to find out what was happening. A bank robbery? In Tinker’s Cove?
Chapter Two
Lucy hadn’t expected to be allowed inside the bank, figuring it was a crime scene, but nobody, least of all the guard, Harold Fincham, was blocking the door. Harold, Police Chief Jim Kirwan, Officer Barney Culpepper, bank president Bert Cogswell, and a couple of tellers were all gathered around the coffee table where the Easter Basket was on display.
“So when exactly did you notice it was missing?” asked the chief.
It was then that Lucy noticed the empty place where Karl Klaus’s golden egg had been nestled, among the other prizes. Now, there was only a tell-tale hollow in the bright green plastic grass.
“It was one of the customers who asked what had happened to the egg,” reported Bert, glancing at the tellers.
“That’s right,” said Jen Holden, the bank’s newest hire. She was a senior at Winchester College, working part time; she was wearing a cozy velour tunic over a pair of black leggings and had long, wavy hair and a worried expression. “It was Mrs. Maloney and I noticed it was almost nine thirty, I was keeping an eye on the time because I have a poli sci test at noon.”
“But it could have gone missing earlier,” speculated Barney. “I mean, was anybody keeping an eye on it? It was right out here in the open, anybody could’ve grabbed it.”
“Would’ve been smarter to substitute one of those plastic eggs and put the real one in the vault,” said Jared Wood, the bank’s senior teller, exhibiting twenty-twenty hindsight.
“Now hold on,” declared Harold, in a defensive tone. “I’ve been here and keeping a sharp eye on that basket. That egg was here when I got in . . .”
“The bank opens at eight,” said the chief. “That leaves a ninety-minute window.”
“Not that long,” insisted Harold. “Like I said, I kept glancing over and I didn’t notice anything missing . . .”
“Until Mrs. Maloney sounded the alarm,” countered Jared.
“Well, I think it was taken just before then,” said Harold. “Nine thirty or so. Any sooner, I would’ve noticed.”
