A Clue for the Puzzle Lady (25 page)

“Relax,” Cora told her. “We’re just checking it out.”

“We shouldn’t check it out. We should give it to Chief Harper.”

“If it checks out, we will. Okay, let’s go over the fence.”

“Just as if we had every right to,” Sherry said. She walked up to the fence, put her hands on the top, hoisted herself up, and hopped over.

Aaron Grant boosted Cora Felton up.

“Thank you, young man.” She smiled at him. “I certainly hope you don’t turn out to be the murderer.”

Before Aaron could retort she’d hopped down the other side. He climbed over the fence and followed. The women had already gone on ahead.

“Hey, wait for me, I got the light,” Aaron said, but the moon was nearly full, and the women were having no problem making their way through the tombstones. By the time Aaron had caught up they’d reached the grave with the new crime scene ribbon.

“Okay,” Cora said. “Let’s start again. Count four down, then count five over from the road.”

Aaron Grant shone the light on the gravestones as they counted.

“And that should bring us to Barbara Burnside,” Cora said.

It did. Aaron Grant’s flashlight lit up the gravestone of the young woman who had died in 1984.

“Okay,” Cora said. “If this letter is for real, telling me I haven’t gone far enough, then let’s go a little farther. The next clue was fourteen across.
Sheep three.”
Cora held up her hand. “Now, admittedly,
sheep three
is not like
line five
. We can’t go three sheep over.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Sherry said.

“Yes,” Cora said. “But the three-letter word for sheep is
ewe
. So instead of
sheep three
, we have
ewe three
. Which is a homonym for
you three
. So
we three
should go fourteen across.”

“We three?”
Sherry said. The contempt was evident in her voice.

“Okay, forget the
we three,”
Cora said. “But let’s count fourteen across.”

With Aaron shining the light, they counted over fourteen graves.

“Okay,” Cora said. “Who have we here?”

“Ann Pascal, eighteen eighty-eight,” Aaron said.

“Eighteen
eighty-eight?” Cora repeated. “That probably shouldn’t concern us. Let’s push on. Next was eighteen down.
Yes vote three.”

“Don’t tell me,” Sherry said. “A
yes vote
was
aye
, so
I
go eighteen down.”

Cora smiled. “Couldn’t have said it better myself. Come on, let’s count eighteen down.”

“Won’t that take us back to the road?” Aaron objected.

“Practically,” Cora said. “If there are eighteen graves down. Otherwise this won’t work.”

It did. Eighteen graves down left them about half a dozen short of the road. They could see the car over by the gate.

“Great,” Cora said. “No one’s spotted us yet. What have we got here?”

Aaron Grant shone the flashlight on the weathered gravestone. “Roger Dunnley, nineteen forty-two.”

“What’s that?” Sherry said.

“What’s what?”

“That,” Sherry said. She pointed to the side of the gravestone.

Aaron shone the light.

Next to the tombstone was a cardboard box.

It was a small box, about a foot square. It was sealed with masking tape.

There was something written on the top of the box in Magic Marker.

Aaron Grant shone the light, lit it up.

It was one large symbol.

A question mark.

Chief Harper shone his flashlight on the cardboard box.

“You didn’t touch it?”

“Absolutely not,” Aaron assured him. “We left it for you.”

“How come?”

“We recognized your authority as the chief of police,” Sherry said.

“Come again?”

“We thought it might be a bomb,” Cora Felton said.

Chief Harper looked at Cora, tried to see if she was kidding. Wasn’t sure. “Great,” he said.

Chief Harper turned, shone the light around the cemetery, and found a crooked stick. He picked it up, and joined the others at the grave.

“Okay,” he said. “The proper procedure would be to call the bomb squad. Only we don’t
have
a bomb squad. Even if we did, I wouldn’t want to call them. This is the next best thing. Anyone who doesn’t like loud noises better move back.”

Chief Harper approached the small box. He edged up on it from the side, as if that would make any difference
if it actually were a bomb. Standing as far away as he could, he reached out with the stick.

Touched the box.

Nudged it.

And immediately flinched, dropped the stick, and covered his head.

Nothing happened.

He looked up.

The box had moved about an inch.

He heaved a sigh, picked up the stick, reached it out again.

This time he gave it a bigger push.

And a smaller flinch.

The box moved a half a foot.

“Okay,” he said. “At least it’s not rigged to explode on contact. Next order of business is to pick it up.”

“You really want to do that, Chief?” Aaron Grant asked.

“I don’t want to do that at all, but I can’t leave it here.” Chief Harper looked around. “I wonder if there’s anything I can pick it up with.”

“Oh, for goodness sakes,” Cora Felton said. “It’s not a damn bomb.” She walked over, picked up the box. “See?”

The others flinched back in alarm, but nothing happened.

“How could you do that?” Sherry demanded. “What if it blew up?”

“I’d be dead, and I wouldn’t know,” Cora replied. “But I don’t think it’s a bomb. It’s not heavy enough.” She frowned. “It could be a stick of dynamite, however.”

“Would you please put that down,” Chief Harper said.

“I could, but I thought we wanted to take it with us.” Cora held the box out toward Chief Harper. “Or would you care to carry it?”

“Fine, bring it along,” he said, surrendering.

“Where are we going?”

“I think we better open it where no one can see it.”

“Oh? Where is that?”

“I was thinking of your house.”

“Nice guy,” Sherry said. “You think it might be a bomb, so you wanna open it at our house.”

“It’s not a bomb,” Cora said. She shook the box. “See. It rattles.”

“Please
don’t do that,” Chief Harper said. “Okay, come on, let’s go.”

They made their way back to the front gate, negotiated Cora and the box over the fence, and piled into the cars. Cora got in with Chief Harper, who clearly would have preferred to have her ride with Aaron Grant, but didn’t want to have to say so. “Just hold that steady,” he cautioned.

“Steady as a rock,” Cora said. She sat in the passenger seat, held the box on her lap.

Chief Harper slammed the door. He got in the car, started the motor, and took off.

Very slowly.

Chief Harper followed Aaron Grant’s car straight back to the house. He stopped the car, shut off the engine, tried not to appear in too big a hurry to get out the door. He went around the car, helped Cora Felton out of her seat.

Sherry Carter had the front door open. “Right this way,” she said. “Bring the bomb right in here.”

“It’s not a bomb,” Cora said.

She brought the box into the house, took it into the kitchen, set it on the butcher block table. The others gathered around.

At a safe distance.

“Okay,” Chief Harper said. “You got any tongs, or long-handled pliers, or anything we can open this with?”

“Aw, phooey,” Cora Felton said. She ripped the strip of masking tape off the top.

The others flinched, but, once again, nothing happened.

“Okay,” Cora said. “You want to stand back, you can. I’m lifting the lid.”

The top of the box consisted of two cardboard flaps that had been held down by the masking tape. Cora put
her finger under one, lifted it up. Then lifted the other. She peered inside, then reached in and lifted the two end flaps that had been folded underneath. She craned her neck, peered into the box.

“There’s something in the bottom, all right. Let’s see what it is.”

With that she tipped the box over.

An object clattered out onto the butcher block.

It was a hammer.

On the head of the hammer was something dried and red.

“Oh, my God,” Sherry murmured. “Is it …?”

“The murder weapon?” Cora Felton said. “I would imagine it is.”

Chief Harper, who realized he’d been holding his breath, exhaled loudly. “All right,” he said. “We don’t know this is the murder weapon, but it certainly could be. The important thing is no one touches it. I’ve got an evidence bag in the car.”

“Uh oh,” Cora Felton said.

Chief Harper frowned. “What?” He looked, saw that she was bent over, peering into the box, which was now lying on its side. “What are you doing there?”

“There’s something else in the box.”

“What?”

“A piece of paper. Looks like another note.”

“Don’t touch it,” Chief Harper said. “I’ll get something, pull it out.”

“Here’s a paper towel,” Sherry said. “Will that do?”

“Fine.” Chief Harper took the paper towel, reached into the box, pulled out the piece of paper.

It was typewritten, just like the second and third clues.

It read:

48)
D — EARL GREY
(3)
.

“Earl Grey three,” Chief Harper said. “Isn’t that tea?”

“Yes, of course,” Sherry said. “It’s entirely too simple.”

“Simple,” Chief Harper said. “It makes no sense at all. The guy has us running around the cemetery counting gravestones following clues, now he gives us forty-eight
edown. There
is
no forty-eight down. Forty-eight down would be way across the road.”

“Never mind that,” Aaron Grant said. “If forty-eight down is tea, Sherry, can you fit it in the grid?”

“I have no idea,” Sherry said. “And even if I could, it couldn’t possibly intersect with any of the other words.”

Chief Harper, who still deferred to Cora Felton as the Puzzle Lady, turned to her now. “Is that right?” he said. “Is tea the right word, and can you fit it in a grid?”

“Oh, it’s the right word, all right,” Cora Felton said. “And, no, I can’t fit it in a grid. But there’s really no need. It’s a much simpler puzzle than that, and the message is quite clear.”

Sherry looked at her aunt as if she’d taken leave of her senses. Sherry seemed about to speak up, but Chief Harper said, “What do you mean?”

Cora Felton shrugged. “I guess the killer doesn’t think much of our abilities. Sends us the murder weapon, tells us even so we can’t catch him.”

“Tells us? Tells us how?” Chief Harper said.

“With the puzzle,” Cora said. “He just completed the puzzle. Four down is
queue
. Fourteen across is
ewe
. Eighteen down is
aye
. Forty-eight down is
tea
. That’s your message.

“Queue, ewe, aye, tea.”

Cora Felton shrugged.

“Quit. ”

Chief Harper put the hammer in one evidence bag, and the two letters in two others. He sealed the bags, heaved a sigh. “Okay,” he said. “What do I do now?”

“What do you mean?” Sherry Carter said.

Chief Harper pointed to the last clue. “Do you have any idea what sort of position this puts me in? I got the prosecutor pressuring me to get off the case. Everyone in town’s convinced I’m not capable of doing my job. And, lo and behold, I’m not. Here I am, through no real fault of my own, withholding a whole bunch of puzzle clues. Which just happen to be evidence in a double murder case. I had a good reason to withhold them when I started withholdin’ ’em. That reason got shakier and shakier as time went on. I stood my ground, because it seemed like anything else would be a disaster.” Chief Harper laughed bitterly. “Well, I can’t imagine any bigger disaster than this. By an unhappy coincidence, the clues I’m withholding are all telling me to quit.”

“You know, those might be aimed at me,” Cora Felton said. “Telling me to quit trying to solve the puzzle.”

“You
solved
the puzzle,” Chief Harper pointed out.

“There
was
no puzzle. Just a painfully obvious message, mocking me and suggesting I give up.”

“So, what are you going to do?” Aaron Grant said.

“Do?” Chief Harper echoed. “The first thing I’m going to do is I’m gonna have these two notes analyzed, see if I can match ’em up.”

“Why wouldn’t they match? They’re obviously from the killer.”

“Yes, and no,” Cora Felton said.

Chief Harper looked at her. “What do you mean by that?”

“Well,” she said, “I have no doubt about the fourth puzzle clue. It looks just like the other two typed ones.” She pointed. “But this letter to me is something else. It was obviously typed on a different typewriter.”

“You’re kidding,” Chief Harper said.

“Not at all. Take a look. Some of the characters are different. The letter
s
, for instance. It’s a whole different style of type.”

“You’re right,” Chief Harper said. “This
was
typed on a different machine.”

“You noticed this just now?” Sherry asked her aunt.

“Actually,” Cora replied, “I noticed it when we got the letter.”

“And you didn’t feel it was worth mentioning?”

“I didn’t want to distract us from our task.”

Aaron Grant grinned. “Nice euphemism. You figured if we thought it wasn’t from the killer, we wouldn’t go.”

“Oh, I’m sure you would have eventually,” Cora said, “but time was of the essence. Suppose some teenagers got into the cemetery, found that box?”

Chief Harper put up his hands. “All right,” he said. “If we could please not squabble. The fact is, you did go, and you found it. Which makes no sense if the note isn’t genuine.”

“It’s clearly genuine,” Cora Felton told him. “For some reason, the killer used another typewriter. And that’s rather revealing.”

“How so?”

“The puzzle clues were obviously prepared in
advance. With the exception of the first one. But the other three would all appear to be typed on the same typewriter. The killer had them typed out, ready to deliver his special message. This letter, telling us where to find the box, was done on the spur of the moment. At a time when the killer did not have access to the original typewriter. So he had to use a different one. One he had access to today. And it’s gotta be nearby, because he typed that letter, put it in my mailbox, and put the box in the cemetery all in a very short space of time. If we can just find the typewriter he used, we should be able to nail him.”