Puzzled to Death (17 page)

“Who?”

“An elderly woman who showed up alone. Surely you remember her?”

Paul Thornhill shrugged helplessly. “I talk to so many people at these events.…”

“You remember the man who complained about you helping your wife?” Cora put in.

“Him I remember.”

“Mrs. Roth was the woman who pulled him away.”

“Oh, her. Yes, I remember her now.” Thornhill looked inquiringly at the chief. “Why do you want to know?”

“She was found dead early this morning.”

Paul Thornhill’s mouth dropped open, but nothing emerged.

“The woman was murdered. It becomes necessary to trace her movements.”

“But that’s ridiculous.”

“Yes, it is,” Chief Harper said. “If I had to choose a word to sum up the situation,
ridiculous
would be a good choice. Unfortunately, that’s what I’m stuck with. The woman was killed. I have to find out why. So I’d appreciate the answer to some ridiculous questions.”

“A harmless old lady like that. Who would want to kill her?” Paul Thornhill seemed overwhelmed.

“Who, indeed? Can you recall what she was talking to you about?”

“Nothing much. I had been pointed out to her as a celebrity. She wanted to know what it was like playing in tournaments. At least, that was what she kept asking. I got the impression she didn’t care about the questions, she just wanted to talk to someone famous. Not that I’m famous, but you know what I mean.”

“She didn’t mention the other murder?”

“The other murder? No, why should she?”

“She lived across the street from the victim.”

Before Paul Thornhill could comment, Craig Carmichael came out the door. He took one look at the assembled gathering and slithered away to his corner of the steps.

“Who’s he?” Chief Harper demanded.

“That’s Craig Carmichael,” Cora told him. “One of the contestants.”

“Well, he acts guilty as hell.”

“He isn’t. That’s how he always acts.”

Ned Doowacker came out, looked around, announced glumly, “Still third.” If he noted the presence of Bakerhaven’s chief of police, he didn’t acknowledge it. “That was a tough one. Even you took longer this time, Thornhill. No matter. I’m still third, and if I get in the finals, anything can happen.”

More contestants came out the door. Chief Harper looked at them, scratched his head, and motioned Cora Felton off to the side. Iris Cooper came too.

“All right,” Chief Harper said. “I got a hundred people in there, and I haven’t a clue which ones are witnesses. You mentioned her talking to three people. This Thornhill guy. Marty the mechanic. And who would the third be?”

“Billy Pickens.”

“Now, there’s a name I’ve heard before. Is Pickens inside?”

“I’m a cohost, Chief, not a ticket taker.”

“What about you, Iris?”

“I don’t even know Billy Pickens.”

“Well, can you find out?”

“As soon as the game’s over.”

Chief Harper shook his head grimly. “No. Find out now. Otherwise, I’m stoppin’ your game.”

Iris Cooper gave him a withering look but went inside. She was out a minute later with a clipboard. “Okay, I got a list of contestants here. It’s not alphabetical, but Billy Pickens doesn’t seem to be on it.”

Chief Harper grabbed the list, scanned it quickly. He sighed. “Okay, Iris. You wanna keep your tournament going, we’ll effect a compromise. Leave Harvey Beerbaum in charge.” He jerked his thumb at Cora Felton. “But
she’s
coming with me.”

A
ARON AND
S
HERRY FOLLOWED
B
ECKY
B
ALDWIN’S CAR
as it bumped over the tracks and turned onto the short street where Mrs. Roth’s house stood. Two police cars, the doctor’s car, an ambulance, and the Channel 8 van were parked out front. There was a crime-scene ribbon around the porch. Officer Sam Brogan sat on the front steps. The neighbors were gathered in the side yard.

Aaron pulled in behind Becky Baldwin, and he and Sherry got out.

The Channel 8 news team was preparing to shoot. The crew set up the camera, while Rick Reed combed his hair and made sure the crest of his Channel 8 blazer could be seen poking out from under his topcoat.

Rick Reed spotted Becky Baldwin, waved her over. “Ms. Baldwin,” he said, thrusting the microphone in her face. “As attorney for Joey Vale, do you have any comment on this second murder, the murder of Judy Vale’s friend and good neighbor—” He broke off and said, “Oh, hell! What’s her name?”

“Felicity Roth,” Becky Baldwin said. “Yes, I do. My client, despondent over the tragic death of his wife, drank too much and was thrown in jail. He’s been in jail since yesterday afternoon. He was behind bars when Ms. Roth was killed. This second murder, unfortunate as it is, completely exonerates my client from suspicion.”

“Nice,” Rick Reed said to Becky Baldwin. He turned to the camera crew. “Okay, on me. Medium close-up, crime-scene ribbon in the background. Are we focused? Good.
And there you have it. The violent murder of Mrs. Roth from the perspective of Joey Vale, whom just a day ago the police were touting as a suspect
.

“
Now we have two murders, and according to Joey Vale’s lawyer, we have two
unsolved
murders. This is Rick Reed, Channel 8 News, in Bakerhaven, Connecticut
.

“Cut,” Rick Reed said. To his sound man he added, “Remind me to loop a wild line of the name
Felicity Roth.
” He swung back to Becky Baldwin. “Of course, we probably won’t use that wrap-up. It’s early in the day, who knows what we’re gonna get. We always shoot a lot more than we use.” He flashed a mouthful of capped teeth. “Of course, I’m
sure
we’ll use
you.
”

“Yeah,” Becky said, but it was clear she wasn’t listening. Having given her statement, she had no more use at the moment for Rick Reed. She strode over to Mrs. Roth’s house, where Sam Brogan was riding herd over the crime-scene ribbon. If anyone was immune to Becky Baldwin’s charm, it had to be the cranky Bakerhaven police officer. Brogan stroked his mustache, popped his gum, and declared, “Can’t go in.”

“I know that, Sam,” Becky purred. “I’m just wondering what you can tell me.”

“I can tell you you can’t go in.”

“Can you tell me anything about the crime?”

“Nope.”

“Can you tell me who’s in there now?”

Sam Brogan popped his gum.

“I know it’s not Chief Harper,” Becky persisted sweetly, “ ’cause I just left him back at town hall. Is Dan Finley in there?”

“I ain’t sayin’. You wanna count police cruisers, I can’t stop you.”

“I’m counting two, which means Dan’s in there. You think I could talk to him?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“If he’s not there, you can’t talk to him. And if he is there, you can’t go in.”

“What if he came out?”

Sam Brogan said nothing.

“Thanks for your help,” Becky said.

“Pleasure,” Sam grunted.

Becky Baldwin looked at her watch, snorted in disgust. She walked back over to Rick Reed. “I’m out of here. This is a waste of time.”

“Where are you going?”

“Back to town hall to hunt up the judge and bail out my client.”

“Hold up a minute.” Rick Reed seemed torn. “I should be here, the body’s comin’ out. But according to them”—he jerked his thumb at the neighbors—“old lady Roth was at your puzzle shindig last night, talking to your hotshot crossword-puzzle guy.”

“Paul Thornhill?”

“Who else?” Rick Reed said. He was clearly not pleased. “Listen, guys,” he told his crew. “Stay here and
shoot the corpse. I’m running over to town hall to check out a lead. Soon as you’re done, hurry over and meet me there.”

Rick Reed and Becky Baldwin climbed into her car and took off.

Aaron Grant, watching them go, seemed as torn as Rick Reed had been. At least in Sherry’s estimation.

“You wanna go too?” Sherry said to him.

“I gotta follow the story.”

“That’s the only reason?”

“What other reason would there be?”

“You tell me.”

“No other reason.”

“Fine.”

Sherry turned her back, studied the crime scene.

Aaron grabbed her by the arm, turned her around. He held her by the shoulders, looked at her.

Sherry twisted away. “Don’t do that.”

“I just wanna talk.”

“You wanna talk, talk. Lay off the physical.”

“I thought we had a relationship.”

“A relationship does not mean pushing someone around.” Sherry exhaled, ran her hand over her face. “I’m sorry. My husband was an abusive schmuck. I won’t be manhandled.”

“That was not my intention.”

“Maybe not. That doesn’t make it any better.” Sherry paused, then asked, “What did you want to say?”

“I was wrong. When I said there was no other reason. I hate that guy Reed. I don’t want him getting a jump on me. It really burns me.”

“I can see that it does,” Sherry said.

Aaron looked at her sharply.

Sherry said, “You think the story’s there or here? Because
you thought the story was
here
. You were there, and we came here. Now you’re here, and you wanna go there. Why the change of mind?”

“It would appear there’s nothing here to get.”

“In that case,” Sherry said, “let’s go.”

“Where?”

“Back to town hall.”

“You agree with me?”

“Agree? What’s to agree? You’re the reporter. I’m just along for the ride.”

Sherry marched back to Aaron’s car, opened the passenger door, and got in.

After a moment, Aaron followed.

C
ORA
F
ELTON COULD HARDLY BELIEVE HER GOOD FORTUNE
. Being yanked out of the crossword-puzzle tournament to take part in a murder investigation. A
double
murder investigation. It was almost too good to be true. She sat in the front of Chief Harper’s police cruiser, trying hard not to look like the cat who swallowed the cream
and
the canary.

“So, where are we going? To grill Billy Pickens?”

“No. To check out the crime scene.”

“Haven’t you already done that?”

“Yeah, but you haven’t.”

Cora blinked. “You want me to case the crime scene?”

“I value your opinion.”

“Is that so? I thought you wanted me to finger Billy Pickens. As the guy seen talking to Mrs. Roth.”

“I do, and you will. But I’d like you to see the crime scene first, before they move the body.”

Cora shivered slightly, and her skin tingled. The
words were strangely exciting. She’d seen a corpse before, but she’d never been
asked
to see one.

It was one of her finest moments.

“So, who found the body?” she asked.

“Ah,” Chief Harper said. “I was wondering how long before you asked who found the body.”

“I’d have got there sooner, except you kept giving me the I-ask-the-questions-here routine.”

“That was in front of the others. Now it’s just you and me.”

“So who found it?”

“Cleaning lady.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. She had a cleaning lady once a week, two hours, Saturday morning, ten till twelve.”

“Big spender.”

“Yeah. Basically just to do the floors. Mrs. Roth didn’t like mopping, couldn’t get the vacuum up and down stairs.”

“And this cleaning woman walked right in?”

“She had keys. That was the deal. Mrs. Roth didn’t like her underfoot, always arranged to be shopping when she was around. The cleaning lady, one Selma Howe, arrived this morning, was a little surprised to see Mrs. Roth’s car still in the driveway, walked in, and found her dead. Which is a bit of luck for Joey Vale. If it weren’t for Selma, it could be days before Mrs. Roth was found. The way things are now, Joey’s free and clear. He was arrested yesterday afternoon. Mrs. Roth was seen last night at Fun Night.
After
Joey Vale was arrested. She was alive when he went to jail, she’s dead and he’s still there.” The chief was silent a moment, then he asked, “You have any theory involving iceboxes, trunks of cars,
or what have you, any theory whatsoever how Joey Vale could have done it?”

“Two killers.”

“Huh?”

“Joey Vale snuffed his wife. Someone else croaked Mrs. Roth.”