Arsenic and Old Puzzles (13 page)

“I admit that sounds bad.”

“How the hell did she know to put the crime in the crossword puzzle? I’m assuming this happened before the murders.”

“Well, actually…”

“Actually?”

“It wasn’t the
Gazette
. It was a Hartford paper from 2005.”

Henry Firth stared at him. “A Hartford paper from 2005 predicted the type of wine the poison was in?”

“No, it just named the movie in which it happened.”

“And who was the killer in the movie?”

“Two sweet old ladies who run a rooming house.”

“Does that mean the aunts are guilty?”

“And another crazy nephew.”

“A crazy nephew. And is there a crazy nephew?”

“There’s another nephew. I’m not aware of his mental state, but he seems to be out of the picture.”

“Wonderful. Tell me, aside from this movie, do you have any significant lead in the case?”

“I’d like to say yes.”

Firth groaned. “Great.” He pointed his finger at the chief. “I’ll tell you one thing. You better make damn sure news of this doesn’t leak out.”

Chapter

26

“Murder in Bakerhaven!”
Rick Reed proclaimed. “In a bizarre twist, the murders in Bakerhaven turn out to be a case of life imitating art!”

Rick paused after that pronouncement, as if for emphasis, but actually because he was unsure if he’d said it right or the other way around. No one on the TV crew was waving at him, so he forged ahead. “That’s right, ladies and gentlemen, the murders in Bakerhaven, unusual as they are, could have come straight out of that classic Cary Grant movie,
Arsenic and Old Lace.
In the movie, Cary Grant’s aunts run a boarding house, and cheerfully poison elderly widowers they feel are lonely. The resemblances to the movie are eerie. In both cases the poison is a mixture of arsenic, strychnine, and cyanide, administered in elderberry wine. The Guilford sisters protest their innocence, and claim while they might have served the elderberry wine, they had no idea where it came from, they just found it in the carafe.”

The picture cut to a shot of Charlotte Guilford with a microphone shoved in her face. “We just found it in the carafe.”

The camera cut back to Rick, who cocked his head knowingly, as if to say, there you are. “The sisters are here today due to the fact they do not drink.”

Rick let that sobering thought lie there a moment, then said, “Police Chief Dale Harper could not be reached for comment, but if you want to know more about the crime, perhaps Cary Grant can help you. The movie, again, is
Arsenic and Old Lace.
I would assume there will be a huge run on Netflix. This is Rick Reed, Channel Eight News.”

Chapter

27

Dan Finley cradled
the phone receiver to his chest, made a face, and held his up free hand in the universal keep-it-down gesture.

Cora, who’d just come in the police station front door, stopped and mouthed, “What’s the matter?”

“He’s not in a good mood,” Dan whispered.

“Because you tipped off Rick Reed?”

Dan grimaced. “Henry Firth didn’t want to let the news out.”

“So, he’s pissed. For a district attorney, that’s part of the job description. They’re better pissed.”

“That’s not all,” Dan said.

“Oh?”

“You should hear it from him. Then it won’t be my fault for telling you.”

Cora went down the hall to Chief Harper’s office, stuck her head in the door.

Harper was also on the phone. “Okay, thanks,” he said, and slammed it down. He picked up a pencil, made a notation on a pad of paper.

“Hi, Chief. How’s it going?” Cora announced cheerfully.

Harper raised one eye from the paper to glare at her.

“That good, eh? What happened?”

He held up one finger. “If this winds up in the paper,” he warned.

“It won’t come from me. Of course, if they’re quoting Rick Reed…”

“Dan Finley will be looking for another job. I’ve had enough of these news leaks.”

“I’m sure you have. You mind telling me what it is I’m not leaking?”

Harper sighed. “The couple took off.”

“What couple?”

“The couple from the Guilfords’. The ones I didn’t drag in and interrogate. Because they agreed not to check out.”

“They checked out?”

“They took off. Didn’t tell a soul. Went out for a drive and never came back. I’m checking car rental companies for rentals that came back early.”

“You have the license number?”

“No, I
don’t
have the license number. I didn’t
take
the license plate number. I was dealing with suspicious relatives found in the bushes with crossword puzzles. The couple was unimportant. Until they took off.”

“They unimportant now, Chief. They’re married, and not to each other. They’re scared to death of having to make a statement and give their names.”

“I know that. You think I don’t know that? They’re not a lead. They’re a loose end I have to tie up. So some unscrupulous defense attorney—and God forbid Becky Baldwin should fall into that category—can’t trot them out as reasonable doubt and get a killer off. In the event that happens, I don’t want to live in the same town as Henry Firth.”

“Chief. If you’ll pardon me saying so, you’re spending a lot of effort protecting your backside when the attack isn’t coming from the rear. You rent the video yet?”

“No, I have not had time to rent the video.”

“That’s a shame. It would tell you what to look out for.”

“You mean like suspects skipping out?”

“They’re not suspects. They’re a red herring. Don’t waste your time on them.”

“There’s no such thing as red herrings, except in fiction.”

“The movie
is
fiction.”

“Huh?”

“Did you think it was a documentary? Some writer made it up.”

“Yeah, but he didn’t kill these people. A killer did. A flesh-and-blood killer. And I have to track him down.”

“Bad pronoun, Chief.”

“What?”

“Assuming the killer’s male. Particularly in this case. In the movie, most of the killings are done by the women.”

“You want to see a murder done by a man? Keep taunting me about this damn movie.”

“I’m not taunting you. I’m just saying, now that it’s been on TV and everyone’s talking about the movie, it would behoove you to know something about it.”

“I got more important things to do.”

“Yeah. Tracing two people who’ve got nothing to do with anything. Look, if you’re not going to watch the movie, at least take some advice from someone who has.”

“That would be you?”

“Well, I’m right here. You don’t even have to pick up the phone.”

“Fine. What’s your great advice?”

“You probably ought to dig up the cellar.”

“What?”

“The Guilford cellar. You ought to dig it up.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s where the bodies are buried.”

Chapter

28

Chief Harper was
giving a good impression of a man who’d been kidnapped. He sat in the front seat of Dan Finley’s cruiser, arms folded, mouth clamped in a firm line.

Cora Felton, on the other hand, had the triumphant look of an officer who’d bagged a perp. She sat in the backseat and kept quiet. Having made the sale, she saw no reason to prod the chief, for fear he might change his mind.

Dan Finley had no such restraint. “This is a good idea, Chief. After all, it’s been on the news. You wanna check it out before some clown takes it into his head to do it himself.”

“And
why
was it on the news?” Chief Harper snapped.

“Water under the bridge,” Dan said. “Just because you didn’t think to clamp the lid on the story is no reason to beat yourself up.”

Harper smoldered in silence. Cora could practically see the steam coming up from his head. She prayed Dan Finley would shut up and drive.

“I don’t suppose the missing couple is buried in the basement,” Dan said.

Cora would have kicked him if she’d been in the front seat.

Dan pulled into the Guilford driveway, killed the motor.

Chief Harper didn’t move. “I feel like a fool.”

“You’re not a fool,” Cora said. “You’re the chief of police. There’s a subtle difference.”

Dan Finley was already on his way up the walk.

Harper got out of the car and trailed along behind.

Cora brought up the rear, as if, left to his own devices, Chief Harper might suddenly make a run for it.

Edith Guilford opened the door. “Why, Chief Harper. And your young officer. And Cora Felton. Do come in, let me make you some tea.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Harper said.

“Nonsense, everyone needs their tea. Charlotte, we have company.”

There was no answer.

“Maybe she went out,” Dan Finley said. “There’s no car in the drive.”

“Oh, yes. She was going to the store. Well, come in, come in. I’m a big girl, I can handle the tea myself.” Edith led them into the kitchen, looked around. “Now where did Charlotte put that teakettle?”

“It’s on the stove,” Dan Finley said.

“Oh, so it is.” Edith grabbed it, took it to the sink. “I’m so sorry about that couple, but they didn’t check out. If Charlotte hadn’t gone in to make up the bed, we never would have known.”

“That was right before you called?” Chief Harper said.

“Well, not right before. There was some talk about what we should do. I said, ‘Chief Harper told those people to stay and if they’re gone he should know.’”

“It was today they left, not last night?”

“No, the bed was slept in. Well, at least it was unmade.” Edith blushed, perhaps considering why people might use the bed and not spend the night. “You don’t think anything’s happened to them?”

“Not at all. They probably just didn’t want to be questioned.”

Edith lit the burner, put the kettle on.

“If you don’t mind,” Chief Harper said, “while you’re making tea, we’d like to check out the cellar.”

“The cellar?” Edith said. “For goodness’ sake, why would you want to look down there?”

“Don’t you watch television?” Dan said.

“Oh, no, we don’t have a television. Some of the guests complain, but most of them like it. Makes it easier to get away from it all. Why do you ask?”

“When’s the last time you used the cellar?”

“We never use it. It’s just a dank, empty cellar. You can’t store anything down there because of the moisture. It’s not insulated. And there’s just a dirt floor.”

Dan Finley nudged Chief Harper in the ribs. “Dirt floor.”

The chief ignored him, said, “When’s the last time you were down there?”

“I really can’t remember.”

“Within the last two weeks?”

“Oh, no. There’s nothing down there I need, so I never go there.”

“What about your sister?”

“She doesn’t use it, either.”

“Perhaps her recollection would be better.”

“Perhaps, but I don’t know how it will help you. It’s surely been years.”

“Then you won’t mind if we take a look.”

“Oh, of course not. As long as you’re not going to judge us by what’s down there. I can’t imagine what you’ll find.”

“Me, either,” Dan said.

Harper gave him a dirty look. “Where’s the stairs?”

“Oh. Right through the pantry.” Edith pointed through an archway to a small room lined with cupboards.

“There’s no door,” Dan said.

“It’s on the wall to your right.”

“You were hoping some cupboard unit pulled open, weren’t you?” Cora whispered to Dan.

Harper opened the door. Rough wooden stairs led into the darkness below. “Where’s the light switch?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Edith said. “There’s no light switch.”

“There’s no lights?” Chief Harper said, dryly.

“There’s a bare bulb hanging. You have to pull the string.”

“From down there?”

“Yes.” Edith smiled. “You see why we don’t use the cellar. It’s really a nasty place.”

“I don’t suppose you have a flashlight.”

“I think we do. I wonder where Charlotte put it.”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake,” Cora said. “Here I come to save the day.” She fished a cigarette lighter out of her drawstring purse, and pushed by Chief Harper onto the top step. “Count yourself lucky I haven’t stopped smoking.”

The flame from the lighter didn’t show much. Just the raw wooden planks the stairs were made of. And the rickety-looking handrail jerry-rigged out of two-by-fours.

“Okay,” Cora said. “Hold on to the rail but don’t lean on it, and watch your step. I don’t want a few hundred pounds of policeman crashing down on me.”

“Thanks a lot,” Harper said.

“I meant the two of you.”

Cora held the lighter ahead of her, picked her way carefully down the stairs.

Halfway down it went out.

“Do that again and you’ll have to marry me,” Cora said.

“Chief!” Dan said. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Harper said irritably. “She’s trying to get my goat.”

“You brought a goat down here, Chief?” Cora said. “I’m not sure that’s wise.”

“Did your lighter just run out of fuel?”

“I don’t know. Let’s make this simple home test.”

Cora spun the dial. Flame shot up for a brief instant, illuminating the ceiling of the basement.

“I think I saw it,” Cora said.

“Saw what?”

“The lightbulb. I can’t see it anymore, but I know where it is. Okay, cover me, men, I’m going in.”

“Will you stop horsing around.”

“Oh, come on, Chief. It’s a situation that practically calls for horsing around. Anyway, I’m almost at the bottom.”

Cora stepped off the last step. “It’s a dirt floor, all right, and pretty uneven. I think the lightbulb’s right ahead of me.”

Cora took a step toward it. The flame went out as she pitched forward with a short, profane yelp.

“My God! What happened?” Harper said.

“I fell in a hole.”

“What?”

“Fell in a hole. Fell in a hole. What part of
fell in a hole
don’t you understand?”

“You fell in a hole?”

“There you go. Come on, give me a hand, will you?”