A Clue for the Puzzle Lady (4 page)

Cora Felton blinked at him. If she’d understood him, he wouldn’t have known it.

“I beg your pardon?” the young woman said.

“I’m sorry. I’d better explain. A girl was found murdered early this morning.”

“Murdered?”

“Yes. In the cemetery. Next to one of the gravestones. The caretaker drove in this morning, and there she was.”

“Who was she?”

Chief Harper frowned. He’d wanted to get the Puzzle Lady’s reactions. He wondered if there was any tactful way to talk to her alone. “For the moment, we don’t know,” he said. “She’s young, late teens, early twenties. Blonde, thin, attractive, appears to have been hit on the head. That’s all we know at the present time.”

“You want us to look at a picture?” the young woman asked. He recalled her name was Sherry something.

“I don’t have a picture.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I’m here, actually, to talk to the Puzzle Lady,” he said rather pointedly. “As I told you on the phone. Miss Felton, I’m sorry to bother you, but I need your expert opinion.”

Cora Felton looked at him. Her blue eyes were wide. It struck him as an owlish look. “Opinion?”

“Yes.”

She blinked, seemed to give him her full concentration. “Opinion of what?”

“A clue.”

“Clue?” she said.

She raised her hands from the arms of the chair, lurched sideways slightly, and caught herself. Her robe gaped open, and for a second he had the disconcerting impression she wasn’t wearing anything under it.

“Yes, a clue. Found on the body.”

She blinked again. “Body.”

She seemed so confused, Chief Harper felt bad about
overwhelming her with a murder. But he had a job to do. “See for yourself,” he said. He reached in his shirt pocket, pulled out the slip of paper, and passed it over.

She unfolded it, pushed the glasses down on her nose, held it at arm’s length, and squinted.
“Four d line five?”
she said.

“Yes. What do you make of that?”

She pushed the glasses back up and frowned. “Let me see, let me see, now.
Four d line five.”

“You think
four d
means
four down?”
the younger woman said.

Chief Harper scowled at the interruption. “It might,” he said. “If that was the case, Miss Felton, would that suggest anything to you?”

“I don’t know.” She cocked her head, furrowed her brow, seemed to consider. “Did you count four graves down from where she was lying?”

The younger woman stirred, opened her mouth, closed it again. Chief Harper noted her impatience, was relieved she hadn’t interrupted again.

“That’s a thought,” he said. “I can’t say that I did. What about
line five?”

“Yes.
Line five
. That certainly is confusing.”

“Let me see that,” the young woman named Sherry said. She practically grabbed the paper out of the older woman’s hand. “Oh. Five in
parentheses
. Of course.”

“Why of course?” Chief Harper asked.

“Because it made no sense the other way.
Line five?”
She smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry. I proofread all the columns before they go out. So I’m used to recognizing crossword puzzle clues.
Line five
is not a standard crossword puzzle clue. On the other hand, what’s written here,
line (5)
, makes perfect sense. The five in parentheses would indicate the answer has five letters.”

Chief Harper turned back to Miss Felton. “Is that right?”

“Yes, of course. Sherry is quite accurate when it comes to such matters.”

“Tell me, is that why you’re here,” Sherry said, “because you figure this is a clue from a crossword puzzle?”

“That’s certainly how it appears,” Chief Harper answered. “If you take it all together,
four d line five
. If the five stands for five letters, that would make it look like a crossword clue, now wouldn’t it?”

“I suppose,” Cora Felton said.

“If you already know that, why are you here?” Sherry asked.

“No puzzle there,” Chief Harper said. “I want you to solve it.”

“Solve it?”

“Yes. What’s the answer? What does it mean?”

Cora Felton opened her mouth, cocked her head. Her whole body seemed to follow, listed slowly to the left.

Her niece jumped in. She put her hands on Cora Felton’s shoulders, seemed to push her upright. “I don’t think you understand,” she told Chief Harper. “There’s a huge difference between creating puzzles and solving them.”

“I would think if you were adept at that sort of thing …”

“Yes, of course. But this isn’t a puzzle, it’s a fragment. You know how you solve a crossword puzzle, Chief? With interlocking clues. Think of the word.
Crossword
. The words cross. They have common letters. That’s how you can tell if your answer is right.”

She pointed to the paper. “In this case, the clue is
line
, the answer is five letters. You know how many meanings there are of
line?
It’s a noun, it’s a verb. The line in the sand. A line of poetry. You line a drawer or a playing field. A dresser drawer you line with paper. A soccer field you line with lime. There’s a line in front of a movie theater, a line in the middle of a highway. A clothesline, a line an actor says in a play, What’s my line? There’s dozens more. Any of which could yield an answer to that particular clue. The only way you could narrow it down would be if you had another word going across to check if the letters fit. To expect my aunt to solve this on the basis of one clue is totally unfair.”

Chief Harper frowned. “All right, look. Let’s not get off on the wrong foot here. No one’s quoting anybody,
no one’s running to the media. You’re not going to see headlines like PUZZLE LADY FINDS CLUE, or if that’s what you’re afraid of, CLUE STUMPS PUZZLE LADY. I’m here in the hope of getting any advice that will point me in the right direction. So, can you give me anything at all?”

Cora Felton considered. For a moment, Chief Harper had the impression she’d thought of something. But all she said was, “I’ll have to work on it. Leave your number and I’ll give you a call.”

“Nothing immediately suggests itself to you?”

“Something suggests itself to me,” Sherry put in. “This is not fun and games, Chief Harper. You’re dealing with a killer here. I don’t want you putting my aunt in danger.”

“That was not my intention.”

“Maybe not. But you’ve appealed to her for help, in the hope she might solve the crime. The killer might get that idea also.”

“Not from me. I assure you, Miss Felton, I won’t even mention you.”

Cora Felton waved this off. “Oh, I’m sure we’ll be safe. It’s just having so little to go on. You will call us if you learn anything more?”

“But you will work on it?”

“Yes, of course. Was there anything else?”

“No, that’s it,” Chief Harper said. “Thanks for your time.”

He left feeling vaguely unhappy about the whole visit. What was it about those two women? Whatever it was, Chief Harper couldn’t shake the feeling he’d been had.

“Is he gone?”

“Yes.”

“Thank God. I’m dying for a smoke.”

“Aunt Cora.”

“Relax. You said he’s gone.” Cora Felton fumbled a pack of cigarettes up from under her blanket, extracted one, lit it with her lighter. Took a deep drag. “Ah, that’s better. What a headache.”

“Yes,” Sherry said, “what a headache. And all because of that damn TV ad.”

“That TV ad pays for this house.”

“You never should have done it.”

“How could I turn it down?”

“You think that cop’s here because of the newspaper column? No. That cop wouldn’t do a crossword puzzle if his life depended on it. He’s here because he saw you on TV.”

“I need a Bloody Mary.”

“Aunt Cora.”

Cora Felton pushed the blanket to the floor, struggled to her feet. Her dressing gown fell open. She felt the draft and looked down. “Why am I naked?”

“You took a shower.”

“I did?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“It seemed a good idea at the time.”

“If you say so,” Cora said. “Well, time for brunch.”

Cora plodded into the kitchen, dropping cigarette ash behind her. Jerked open a cabinet drawer, took out a bottle of vodka. Set it on the butcher block. Took out a glass, opened the freezer, dropped ice cubes in. Winced at the sound. “Ice cubes are
so
loud.”

She opened the refrigerator, took out tomato juice, and mixed a Bloody Mary without the benefit of a shot glass. The vodka estimate was generous. She added Worcestershire, Tabasco sauce, and celery salt, stirred it around.

She took a huge sip, lowered the glass. “Ah, that’s better,” she said, and smiled a huge smile. She looked just like she did in the pictures, except with a red mustache.

And the fact her robe was hanging open.

“Must you?” Sherry said. “If that cop comes back—”

“We’ll offer him a Bloody Mary. Though he probably doesn’t drink on duty.” Cora noticed her dressing gown and tried to tie it up, but couldn’t holding the Bloody Mary. She had the belt in one hand, the drink in the other. She frowned at them as if they were a logic problem of annoying complexity.

Sherry solved it for her by taking the glass. Cora cinched up the robe, retrieved the drink, took a huge sip, and exhaled happily. She seemed to be getting her second wind. “Sherry, this is exciting.”

“Aunt Cora.”

“An actual murder. And we’re in on it. I wish I felt better. If I’d known, I would have come home early.”

“Really?”

“Sherry, we have to figure the clue.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding.”

“Don’t be silly. This is a murder. A girl is dead. We have an obligation.”

“We
have an obligation?”

“Exactly. If it really is a crossword clue, then we have to solve it. Not that it necessarily is. I kind of like the four-graves-down idea.”

“Aunt Cora.”

“You pooh-pooh it just because it’s mine. And line five? That fits right in. What if it’s four graves down in the fifth row of graves?”

“Don’t be silly.”

“Why is that silly?”

“The five was in parentheses.”

“So?”

“And if that’s the answer, we’re not needed,” Sherry pointed out. “The police can solve that perfectly fine by themselves.”

“True, true, you’re undoubtedly right. So the clue is a line with five letters. If that’s four down, we’re going to need to see something else across. Which means we need to find another clue. Maybe we should go to the cemetery.”

“Aunt Cora.”

Cora Felton put up her hand. “Not now, not now. But if you say we can’t work on this clue without help, then we need help.”

Her cigarette defied the laws of gravity. Sherry picked up an ashtray, held it out, just as the ashes tumbled to the floor.

“Aunt Cora, try to understand something. The TV ad was a mistake. We’re living with the mistake. There’s nothing we can do about it, we have to make the best of it. But this. This is an absolute disaster. You start trying to solve a murder, and you know where your picture is going to wind up? On the cover of the
National Enquirer
. And the headline isn’t going to be
PUZZLE LADY SOLVES MURDER
, it’s going to be
PUZZLE LADY EXPOSED
. And that’s only if we’re lucky enough not to get
PUZZLE LUSH
or
PUZZLE SLUT
.”

“Thanks a lot.”

“And what’s gonna happen then? How many papers do you think are gonna stand beside us? The Puzzle Lady
image is wholesome. That’s the sell. You tarnish that, you got nothing. They’ll never forgive you. For destroying the image. It’s as bad as Minnie cheating on Mickey Mouse.”

“She did that?”

“You get the point?”

“Yes, I do. You’re a stick-in-the-mud, you want me to butt out of a murder. Whaddya think your chances are?”

Sherry tried another tack. “All right. It’s not just that. There’s something else. I’ve been getting hang-ups.”

“Hang-ups?”

“Yes. This morning and again last night. The telephone rings, I pick it up, the line’s open but there’s no one there.”

“What do you mean, no one’s there?”

“I say
hello
and no one answers. There’s just the sound of the open line on the other end. Then I hear the phone hang up and I get a dial tone.”

“Do you hear breathing?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know if you hear breathing?”

“Aunt Cora.”

“Sherry, it’s nothing. Phones do that all the time.”

“Yeah. But I can’t help thinking.”

“What?”

“What if it’s Dennis?”

Cora Felton shook her head. “Sherry, Sherry, Sherry. That’s so stupid. How could Dennis know that we’re here?”

Sherry pointed at her, nodded her head. “There, you see? That’s the whole thing. Rationally, I know that he couldn’t, that it’s all in my head. You’re in the newspapers and you’re on TV, but it’s nationwide, there’s no way to know where you are. But now this. Murder in Bakerhaven. It’s local, it’s specific. You get your name mentioned in connection with this, it’s like telling Dennis we’re here.”

Cora Felton frowned, looked at her. “You’re really upset about this, aren’t you?”

“Can you blame me?”

“Of course not.”

“So you see, we can’t afford to help.”

Cora Felton’s eyes widened. “Oh, no, no. We can’t afford not to.”

“What?”

“Sherry. That cop is cooperating. As long as we help him, he’ll help us. He said he wasn’t gonna mention us.”

“But someone else might. Particularly if they play up the puzzle angle.”

“So tell him not to.”

“Huh?”

“Tell him to withhold it.” Cora took a big slug of Bloody Mary. “That’s what the police do anyway, isn’t it? Withhold an important fact only the killer would know. To weed out all the cranks confessing to the crime. Get him to withhold the puzzle clue, no one will get a lead to us. No one will even know we were there.”

“Unless they see us tromping around the crime scene,” Sherry pointed out. “You’re not really going to do that.”

“Sherry, darling.” She patted her on the cheek. “I grew up on Agatha Christie. I spent my whole life reading murder mysteries. Let me tell you something. Crossword puzzles are nothing. This is the real thing. If you think I’m going to miss it, you must be crazy.”