Another Word for Murder (11 page)

“What? You've taken to hacking into the NPD computers in your spare time? You have our phones tapped? And I'll take some java while you're at it—if it's not too much trouble for her highness to find the carafe.”

“The bunch of you have communal memory loss this morning or what? You and Abe were grousing about the Boston situation on Saturday, Big Al—in between yakking about a certain missing male.” Martha walked away and returned with the coffee and a cup and saucer, as well as a paper placemat, napkin, and silverware. “I take it you're going to horn in on your buddy's
tête-à-tête
with his adorable wife.”

“They had all weekend for canoodling,” was Al's blithe reply as he slid into the banquette opposite Rosco and Belle.

“And from the looks of them, they used up every lovin' minute,” the waitress joked.

Al glanced at his former partner, and then at Belle. “What gives? Martha's right; you two
are
awfully quiet this morning. You didn't have a fight, did you?” Lever looked genuinely worried as he asked this question.

But Rosco and Belle were saved from an immediate answer because Martha pulled out her order pad and retrieved the pencil she kept stuck into the shellacked waves of her blonde beehive. “So, what'll it be, Big Al? By the way, is this breakfast number two or number three …?”

“Yuk, yuk … And it's my first, for your information.”

Martha arched an eyebrow, an action she'd perfected during her many years as Lawson's queen bee. “Helen's finally put you on that diet, has she?”

“If you knew my wife's cooking, you wouldn't bother to ask.”

“Save it, Big Al. I know the routine already. The only danger Helen ever encounters in your kitchen is the risk of freezer burn, right?”

“Well, it's true. A cook she definitely ain't.” Al didn't bother to reach for the menu as he spoke. None of Lawson's regulars did; just as Martha didn't really need to write down their orders. “A couple of eggs over easy—”

“And a double order of hash browns … and extra bacon, extra crispy, and a large O.J.” Martha finished the words for him.

“Only if you twist my arm, Marth.”

“Since when have you needed persuasion when it came to chow, Al?”

“Ho, ho.” Al stirred cream into his coffee, then turned toward Belle. “How's your friend, Karen, doing?”

“Karen?” she said too quickly, wondering if Al could now read her mind.

“Oh, boy …”

“Oh, that Karen!” Belle pasted on a smile. “She's okay, I guess.”

“No word from the Doc, I take it?”

“Not that I know of.”

Lever frowned. “You mean she wouldn't call you if he suddenly reappeared? Or Missing Persons? I hope the heck she'd notify NPD so we could call off our search for the Explorer.”

“Sure … of course, she would. Certainly. Yes.” Belle's words tumbled over each other, and Al Lever's scowl deepened.

“You lovebirds
did
have a fight, didn't you?”

“No, Al. Honest!” Belle smiled brightened in order to prove her point, but the effort failed to convince Al that she was telling the truth.

“Something's wrong, and I know it.” He looked at Rosco. “Aren't you going to ask me if we've had any luck at all in chasing down Tacete's Explorer?”

“I thought I'd let you eat your breakfast in peace before hammering you with questions, Al.”

“Since when do you allow me any kind of peace, Poly—crates?”

Rosco laughed. The sound was relaxed and jocular enough to fool Lever. “So, what's the word on the Explorer?”

“Obviously nada. Zilch. Zip. I guess the guy's serious about hiding himself from the little missus. Or maybe he's just evaporated?”

Martha appeared with Al's orange juice and toast. “Leave him alone and he'll come home, dragging his tail behind him,” she misquoted. “Or not.” She laughed and moved away again, and Al concentrated on covering his toast with strawberry jam. After a moment, he sat back. “I guess we'll be sending one of our officers out to the Tacete household today—”

“That's not a good idea, Al,” Rosco interrupted.

Lever gazed at his former partner. A look of annoyance crossed his face. “Maybe you'd like to tell the boys and girls over at Missing Persons why it isn't.”

“Karen's at sixes and sevens,” Belle interjected too hastily. “I think an official visit would push her over the edge…. Right now, anyway.”

“Why don't I act as a liaison, Al,” Rosco offered. “Just until Karen's over this initial emotional hump. It's the least I could do.”

Lever finished his toast, pushed the plate away, and looked for Martha. “Where the heck's my eggs?” He turned back to Rosco. “If I didn't know you two as well as I do, I'd say something fishy was going on.”

“Well, fortunately, you do know us.” Rosco grinned as he spoke.

“Yeah, that's what worries me even more.” Al stood. “I gotta get back to the rat race…. ” He slid a tip for Martha beneath his saucer. “I'm gonna have to ask her to put my breakfast in some Styro so I can take it back to the station. When do you want me to finish up hunting for that new car, Poly—crates?”

“Actually, Al, I'm a little swamped at the moment.”

Lever gave Rosco a quizzical look. “On the other hand, maybe you could borrow one of Dan Tacete's rides for the time being. I can definitely see you cruising around in a Bentley.”

Rosco's smile remained stuck to his face as Lever made his way toward the cashier, grabbed his eggs from Martha, and then ambled out the door.

But Belle's own bright expression wobbled, and her lips twitched in worry. “I hate this, Rosco,” she murmured. “I feel like
we're
the criminals. Or that we're abetting the crime.”

“We'll give the situation another twenty-four hours—max. And then that's it. Karen's wishes or not, the Feds need to be brought in on this.”

“A lot can happen in twenty-four hours.”

“AS TIME GOES BY”

Across

  1.  Resistonce units

  5.  Tennis org.

  8.  Cheat

12.  A time to——, Ecclesiastes

13.  A time to——, Ecclesiastes

14.  A time of——, Ecclesiastes

15.  Mr. Mason

16.  Rascal

17.  Like Miss Muffet's curds

18.  Baseball stat.

19.  Garden tool

20.  Ms. la Douce

21.  Jack Be Nimble prop

25.  Hitchcockian vane reading

28.  “Exodus” author

29.  Lyric poems

30.  Buck's partner

31.  October birthstone

32.  “… and put them to——”

33.  See 9-Down

34.  City in Texas

35.  Suit piece

36.  Cookie ingredient

37.  Suffix for red, white, or blue

38.  Runner Sebastian

39.  Mr. Huntley

40.  Fib

41.  Ms. Lanchester

42.  Blunder

43.  Lincoln model

44.  Suggestion for 21-Across hurdler

48.  MGM founder

50.  Iota

51.  Half MCII

52.  It's often busted

54.  Finished first

55.  Takes—

57.  Side

58.  Shock

59.  Mr. Gardner and namesakes

60.  Questions

61.  Docs' aides

62.  Seven days

Down

  1.  “Hänsel und Gretel,” e.g.

  2.  Where did that mouse go?

  3.  Scratch

  4.  “The——is falling!”

  5.  “Hasta luego!”

  6.  A time to heal; a——, Ecclesiastes

  7.  Energy

  8.  Meeting spot?

  9.  With 33-Across, rhyme line

10.  High card

11.  All the king's——

12.  Dimension; abbr.

14.  Makes coffee

19.  “For——a jolly good fellow!”

20.  Chilled

22.  Cart

23.  ——Abner

24.  Thought

26.  Pitcher's goal

27.  A time to——Ecclesiastes

31.  Watering hole

34.  A time to——Ecclesiastes

35.  Pear selection

36.  Chinese dynasty

38.  Paw part

39.  ——au vin

41.  Throw out

42.  A time to——, Ecclesiastes

45.  “I'll grind his——to make…”

46.  Wall hook

47.  Smooch

49.  Mind——P's & Q's

52.  Arts deg.

53.  Indian dance

54.  A time of——, Ecclesiastes

55.  A time of——, Ecclesiastes

56.  Anger

To download a PDF of this puzzle, please visit
openroadmedia.com/nero-blanc-crosswords

CHAPTER 15

As Belle stood waiting for the elevator that would carry her from the
Evening Crier'
s busy lobby up to her cubicle-size office, she had no idea what lay in store for her. Although she did experience a keen sense of premonition, almost of doom. The fact that her brain kept repeating its complaint that she and Rosco were withholding information didn't alleviate the feelings of hopelessness and fear. Nor did her surroundings help; in the seven years Belle had called the
Crier
her professional home, she'd never warmed to its postmodern architecture or the ambience that seemed to have all the luster and fizz of a high school cafeteria after the home team had lost a deciding game. The word “bleak” had found a special niche in the newspaper's physical plant.

The smeary steel doors of one of the four elevators opened. A few men and women hurriedly strode off; many more walked on; some words of greeting were exchanged but not many, as the doors closed and the metal box creaked upward. Monday morning, even Monday morning at almost nine thirty, wasn't the cheeriest hour at the
Crier
.

Belle rode to the third floor, where she and some equally silent colleagues exited. Then she walked down the lackluster corridor with its tired beige paint and its scuffed beige floors and turned the key in her, yes,
beige
office door. She was in the midst of condemning the designer who'd created such an impersonal space—something she did on a regular basis—and wondering whether the intention was to prove the superiority of cerebral activity over visual stimuli, when a manila envelope lying on the floor caught her eye. Someone had slid it beneath the door, which was not how mail was delivered at the
Crier
.

Her instantaneous reaction was a double dose of the apprehension than she'd felt in the lobby. Belle sensed the missive related to Dan Tacete—which then immediately led her to a more powerful response, which was panic. Although without basis and completely inexplicable, Belle felt as though
she
were the crime's mastermind and was now in danger of being caught.
I'd never make a good crook
, she decided, bending down to pick up the envelope.
I
just don't have the cool nerves required for the job. One strange look from any of my co-workers out there on the elevator would cause me to blurt out the truth
.

She closed the door behind her and locked it—another bizarre nod to the clandestine mission she felt she'd embarked upon.

Seated at her desk, which was a rectangular piece of dark beige laminate covering a pressed-wood core, and facing a built-in bookcase constructed of the same attractive stuff, Belle opened the envelope and pulled out a crossword. Her breathing had grown fast and shallow; her eyes crossed in recognition as she read the title, “As Time Goes By,” and the constructor's name, “Sal D. Anderson.”

She quickly scanned the Across and Down clues. Sure enough, the theme was not only time but the actions that accompanied it. At 12-Across was a reference to the Biblical book of Ecclesiastes in
A time to
SPEAK; 13-Across was
A time to
DIE.
A time to
WEEP was at 27-Down; 34-Down was
A time to
KILL.

SPEAK
, Belle thought.
If Rosco and I
—
or Karen
—
share what we know with the police, does Dan Tacete DIE?
But even as Belle pondered this horrific possibility, her brain made the next leap. Like the two seemingly innocent puzzles she'd received at home, and had assumed were intended as submissions for her crossword compendium, this creation was full of clues based on childhood tales.
Like Miss Muffet's curds; Jack Be Nimble prop; Hänsel und Gretel
…. Belle actually felt herself begin to pant, and her stomach churned in distress. What if the other puzzles had contained clues that she'd missed? What if the situation with Dan could have been prevented? What if the constructor had been trying to warn her that something evil was afoot? And Sal, the mystery constructor? Is that a man or a woman? Is it short for Sally or Salvatore?

A knock on her door made Belle spin in her chair; she shoved the crossword under a pile of papers before moving to twist open the locked knob.