Leslie Meier > Quotes

“After all, moms were appreciated only on Mother's Day. That's why they invented it. So they could treat you like a household appliance the rest of the year.”
― Leslie Meier, Back to School Murder

“It all must have cost a fortune, guessed Lucy, who had lost track of the actual total sometime around December 18. Oh, sure, it had been great fun for the hour or two it took to open all the presents, but those credit card balances would linger for months. And what was she going to do about the letter? It was from the financial aid office at Chamberlain College advising her that they had reviewed the family’s finances and had cut Elizabeth’s aid package by ten thousand dollars. That meant they had to come up with the money or Elizabeth would have to leave school. She guiltily fingered the diamond studs Bill had surprised her with, saying they were a reward for all the Christmases he was only able to give her a handmade coupon book of promises after they finished buying presents for the kids. It was a lovely gesture, but she knew they couldn’t really afford it. She wasn’t even sure he had work lined up for the winter.”
― Leslie Meier, New Year's Eve Murder

“It was the eternal conundrum. Time passed too slowly, and then it was over too quickly. Hurry up and die.”
― Leslie Meier, Father's Day Murder

“If looks could kill, she’d be a dead woman.”
― Leslie Meier, Father's Day Murder

“Lucy had no complaints about her dinner. Anything was fine with her as long as she didn’t have to cook it.”
― Leslie Meier, Father's Day Murder

“The dead don’t give up anything, but the living do.”
― Leslie Meier, St. Patrick's Day Murder

“Today she’d encased her ample frame in aqua pedal pushers and a bold floral print shirt topped with a string of beads that could have inspired a mother hen to sit a while. “What’s”
― Leslie Meier, Bake Sale Murder

“And what do you think you’re doing?” he demanded, feeling a large hollowness growing inside him.
“You know quite well, don’t you?” replied the crow, hopping up onto the bar with a neat flap of his wings. The bird cocked his head and looked him in the eye. “Don’t tell me an Irishman like you, born and bred in the old country, has forgotten the tale of Cú Chulainn?”
“’Tisn’t the sort of thing you can forget,” he told the crow. “Especially that statue in the Dublin General Post Office. A handsome piece of work that is, illustrating how Cú Chulainn knew death was near and tied himself to a post so he could die standing upright, like the hero he was.”
“Cú Chulainn was a hero indeed,” admitted the crow. “And his enemies couldn’t kill him until the Morrighan lit on his shoulder, stealing his strength, weakening him…”
“Right you are. The Morrighan,” he said. The very thought of that fearsome warrior goddess, with her crimson cloak and chariot, set his heart to pounding in his bony old chest.
“And what form did the Morrighan take, might I ask?” inquired the bird.
“A crow,” he said, feeling a great trembling overtake him. “So is that it? Are you the Morrighan come for me?”
“What do you think Daniel Malone?”
― Leslie Meier, St. Patrick's Day Murder

“I’ve been to livelier funerals,” grumbled Herb.”
― Leslie Meier, Father's Day Murder

“asked.”
― Leslie Meier, Chocolate Covered Murder

“In fact, she realized when they finally found their table and sat down, every single woman at the banquet was dressed in some variation of back. Black silk, black chiffon, black with beads, black with rhinestones, short black cocktail dresses, black evening dresses, and even black pantsuits. All black. There was no way she was going to get lost in this crowd, not in her pink-and-orange poppy print”
― Leslie Meier, Father's Day Murder

“Some truths were too difficult to accept, so the mind manufactured excuses as a way of denying what it already knew.”
― Leslie Meier, Easter Bunny Murder

“Envy’s a green-eyed monster that comes hissing hot from hell.”
― Leslie Meier, Easter Bunny Murder

“Murder was apparently too common-place in the big city to attract much notice.
Poor Luther, thought Lucy, as she headed back to the hotel. Even in death he was only a big fish in a small pond.”
― Leslie Meier, Father's Day Murder

“friends had started hanging around. Franny could feel her stomach hardening and twisting into knots when they arrived, pushing and shoving one another and tripping over their huge basketball shoes. It was a wonder they didn’t knock over a display rack or topple one of the neatly stacked pyramids of paint cans. They seemed to be everywhere at once, and she couldn’t possibly keep an eye on all of them. Actually, she was a little afraid of them. While they dressed like kids, she knew they were actually young men. They were bigger than she was and full of rough male energy. From what she observed it seemed Ben was their leader and they were reporting to him. She was sure they were up to no good. Their whispered conversation was full of winks and nudges, and they constantly checked over their shoulders to see if they were being overheard. She tried to keep her distance, but if she had to approach them to help a customer, she noticed they would move away or fall silent. Whenever Mr. Slack appeared, they disappeared. Returning to the invoices, Franny went through them one more time. She couldn’t understand it. According to the paperwork, the store had received enough batteries to last through the summer, based on her best estimate using last year’s figures. They’d gotten twenty boxes each of AA and D batteries, the most popular sellers, and ten boxes each of the other sizes. Last week she’d noticed the display rack was nearly empty, and she’d asked Ben to fill it. “Can’t,” he’d said, avoiding her eyes. “They’re all gone.” “There should be plenty in the storeroom,” she’d insisted, looking curiously at his two buddies, who were lounging by the paint display. They seemed to find the conversation extremely amusing. “Go check again.” “There’s no point. I’m telling you, they’re all gone. Look, I’m taking a break now,” he’d said, signaling his friends to follow him outside. Sure enough, she couldn’t find any batteries in the storeroom, either. She was sure they hadn’t been sold; she would have noticed the unusual number of sales and ordered more. Where had they gone? It was very disturbing, especially since she’d been having such a hard time lately making up the bank deposit. That was always the first task of the day. She would take the previous day’s take out of the safe and add up the checks and cash, square them with the total sales figure, and fill out the deposit slip. Then Mr. Slack would put the whole business in a blue vinyl zippered pouch and take it to the red-brick bank across the street. For the past few weeks, however, she hadn’t been able to get the figures to match, even though”
― Leslie Meier, Tippy Toe Murder

“As she dressed that night, Lucy remembered Catherine’s words: “If it’s true, it isn’t libel.”
― Leslie Meier, Father's Day Murder

“if this is the farm the flower ladies were talking about.”
― Leslie Meier, Mother of the Bride Murder

“Lucy Stone wasn’t usually a clock watcher. Time didn’t pass slowly for her; it galloped ahead of her.”
― Leslie Meier, Star Spangled Murder

“The lights were turned off and the film began to roll. It was eerie, thought Lucy, watching the images of Luther Read flicking across the screen. Maybe he was dead or maybe he was fighting for his life, but in the darkened room he was an enormous, living presence.
Then the film ended. The final image of Luther Read’s smiling face had hardly faded when the announcement came.
“Luther Read, our Newspaperman of the Year, is dead.”
That was incredible enough, but an even more shocking announcement followed.
“Remain in your seats, please, as the police will be collecting information from everyone.”
― Leslie Meier, Father's Day Murder

“They all fell silent, baffled by a new world order in which ideological and religious beliefs were used to justify violence and atrocities against innocent people going about their daily business.”
― Leslie Meier, New Year's Eve Murder

“She was halfway through the revolving door when the thought hit her; she was the one who had seen Junior and Luther fighting before the banquet. She was the one had told Detective Sullivan. Overcome with guilt, she grabbed Ted’s arm and faced him.
“It’s because of me,” she said. “Junior was arrested because of me!”
― Leslie Meier, Father's Day Murder

“I think they call it EQ, emotional quotient. It’s kind of like IQ, but it means you’re able to sense shifts in”
― Leslie Meier, Invitation Only Murder

“It’s not a guideline—it’s a deadline.”
― Leslie Meier, Star Spangled Murder

“It’s a small-town rule: Never speak ill of the dead until the estate has paid the outstanding bills.”
― Leslie Meier, Father's Day Murder

“I want that at my funeral,” said Pam. “I want to be carried out on the shoulders of six stalwart young men. Preferably in loincloths.”
― Leslie Meier, Birthday Party Murder

“house”
― Leslie Meier, Christmas Carol Murder

“It’s the death of a thousand cuts,”
― Leslie Meier, Easter Basket Murder

“and she always came away with a sense of relief that she could leave. The place”
― Leslie Meier, Irish Parade Murder

“I’ve never been to a real Irish wake,” said Lucy. “Just visiting hours at the funeral home.”
“You think this’ll be different?”
“I’m no expert, but from what I’ve heard, they’re pretty lively affairs. Sometimes they even sit the dead person’s body up and put a drink in its hand.”
“That’d be a problem for Old Dan,” said Brian, thoughtfully. “I mean, he could hold the drink, but you sort of need a head to complete the image. Not that he could actually drink it, of course, being dead and all, but you know what I mean.”
Lucy did. How could you have a wake with a body that had no head?”
― Leslie Meier, St. Patrick's Day Murder

“A girl had to do what a girl had to do and it looked as if this girl’s immediate future included chicken Caesar salad, chocolate cake, and Cary Grant.”
― Leslie Meier, Father's Day Murder