Puzzled to Death (26 page)

Becky Baldwin seemed poised to offer comfort, but at that moment Chief Harper appeared.

Jessica Thornhill rushed to him. “Who did this?” she cried. “Do you know? Can you tell me? Who did this awful thing?”

“That’s what I intend to find out,” Chief Harper said.

It was an unfortunate choice of words.

“You mean you don’t
know
?” she demanded. “You have no idea? How is that possible? Tell me it isn’t true. Tell me you have a lead.”

Cora Felton, watching closely, said, “We have leads. That’s why I came to talk to you tonight.”

“Yes,” Jessica said. “Because that woman talked to my husband. Now she’s dead, and so is he, and what does it mean? Nothing.”

“Oh, it means something, all right,” Chief Harper said. “And I intend to get to the bottom of it. Now then, you were worried about your husband.”

“Of course I was. Of course I was.”

“Because he went out for brandy and didn’t come back.”

“You’re telling me stuff I know.”

“I need to get it straight. How did you get here just now?”

“How did I get here?”

“Your husband had the car. What are you driving?”

“I rented a car.”

“You rented a car and went looking for him?”

“That’s right.”

“There’s no car rentals in town. Where’d you find one?”

“In Danbury.”

Chief Harper frowned. “How’d you get to Danbury?”

“I didn’t. I called them, had them deliver a car.” Jessica snuffled. Her eyes were wide. “Why are you asking me this? What does it matter?”

“I’m just trying to get the picture, Mrs. Thornhill. So you were out this evening, driving around, looking for your husband—is that right?”

Rick Reed suddenly perked up.

So did Becky Baldwin. “Chief Harper. If you’re suspecting Mrs. Thornhill of a crime, may I point out you’ve not advised her of her rights.”

Jessica Thornhill looked at her. “You’re a lawyer?”

“That’s right.”

“Yes. You’re the one Paul was talking to this afternoon when I came out. He said you were a lawyer. I said, ‘Why would we ever need a lawyer?’ And now I do. Can I hire you?”

“You don’t have a lawyer?”

“I have New York lawyers. They’re in New York. If I need advice now, let me hire you. What’s one lawyer, more or less.”

“Sorry,” Becky said. “There’s a conflict of interest. I’m representing Joey Vale.”

“Who’s that?”

“A suspect in the killings. At least he was. I doubt if he is now, but I still represent his interests.”

“So you can’t advise me?”

“No, just him,” Becky said, pointing to Chief Harper. “I’m advising him to read you your rights.”

“My rights,” Jessica cried. “My rights. I didn’t kill my husband, what’s this talk of rights?”

“It’s a formality,” Chief Harper said. “I’m questioning you in your husband’s death. You have the right to an attorney, you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.”

“That’s an awfully informal Miranda,” Becky Baldwin pointed out.

Chief Harper glared at her.

Jessica Thornhill began to cry.

Rick Reed moved in, as if to console her, but she jerked away. “No,” she said. “I have to be strong, I have to get through this. Whoever did this must pay.” She wheeled on Chief Harper. “What do you want to know?”

“Can you think of anyone who would want to kill your husband?”

Her lip trembled. “Of course not. Everybody loved Paul. He was a wonderful man, so smart, so talented. Obviously it had nothing to do with him. It had to do with that old woman.” Jessica added, as if by inspiration, “What about that awful man? The one she pulled away from my husband. There’s someone connected to both of them. Why aren’t you looking for him?”

“I will, Mrs. Thornhill. He’ll be one of the first ones I question,” Chief Harper assured her, but he couldn’t for a moment imagine Marty Haskel killing anyone. “Can you think of anyone else?”

Jessica Thornhill studied him. It was as if in spite of the enormity of the tragedy, she could still recognize the stupidity of the question.

“No, I can’t,” she said. “We’re from New York. We don’t know anyone here. Just the other contestants and Harvey Beerbaum.”

“What about the other contestants?” Chief Harper asked. “Is there anything there? Any he’s known for some time who for some reason or other don’t happen to like him?”

“Not at all. I tell you, everyone liked him. Oh, Ned Doowacker was jealous, but so what? Ned Doowacker was always jealous.”

“And Ned Doowacker is …”

“One of the contestants.”

“And you say he was jealous of your husband?”

“Yes, but so what? It’s no big deal.”

Chief Harper barely restrained himself from saying,
I’ll be the judge of that
. “Even so,” he said. “Tell me more. Was this just in terms of this tournament or was it an ongoing thing?”

“Just in general. It’s a competitive thing among the top contestants. Ned often felt slighted. In this tournament, for instance. Paul, Craig, and Zelda were singled out as celebrity contestants while Ned wasn’t.”

“And this caused resentment?”

Jessica waved her arm angrily. “Chief, you’re off on the wrong track. Ned didn’t want to kill him, just beat him. He couldn’t stand it that Paul was number one.”

“You mean in general? Nationwide?”

Jessica Thornhill frowned. Said irritably, “No, of course not. There’s lots of stars at the nationals. But Paul was always ahead of him, and in this tournament he was number one.”

“Is that right?” Chief Harper asked Cora.

“Most likely.”

“Not most likely,” Jessica said. “He was number one so far.”

“How do you know that?” Cora asked.

“Don’t you even know your own tournament? They posted the standings right after dinner.”

“That’s interesting,” Chief Harper said. “Where did they post them?”

“In the town-hall lobby. So anyone could come in and get their score.”

“And your husband was number one?” Chief Harper said.

“Didn’t I just say that? Of course he was. By a wide margin.”

“Who was number two?” Cora asked.

“I don’t remember.”

“Was it this Ned Doowacker?” Chief Harper asked.

“I don’t think Ned was that high. But he might have been. I really didn’t pay that much attention.”

“And you say this was posted after dinner? Where any of the contestants could have gone in and seen it?”

“Yes. But I tell you, this had nothing to do with it. Who would want to kill Paul over a lousy contest?”

“Who indeed?” Chief Harper said. He raised his voice, called, “Sam. Look out for Mrs. Thornhill, will you? I’m leaving you in charge. I have to run into town.”

“Where you going, Chief?” Cora said as he headed for the car.

“Town hall. I wanna see that score.”

“Oh, come on, Chief. You really think it means something?”

“I don’t know. But at this point I’ll take anything I can get.”

“Can I come too?”

“It might look better if you drove your own car.”

“It’s blocked in.”

“Okay, so get Aaron and Sherry to take you.”

Cora Felton said nothing.

Looking around, Chief Harper said, “Say, where are they? I thought I just saw them.”

“I was busy talking to you,” Cora said.

“Well, they’re not here now.”

Cora Felton smiled slightly.

“Gee, I guess they aren’t.”

“W
HAT DO YOU MEAN
, I
CAN’T WRITE IT?
” A
ARON
G
RANT
complained.

“Just what I said,” Sherry Carter told him. “You’re getting the inside track on a very interesting story, and you can’t write it.”

“How can you do that to me?”

“I didn’t do that to you. Cora did that to you. When she slipped us the high sign and told us to leave.”

“And you knew what that meant?”

“Yes, I did.”

“And just how did you happen to know what that meant?”

“Speaking not for publication, I’d be happy to tell you.”

“Give me a break,” Aaron said. “At least tell me where we’re going.”

“We’re driving along this road. We’re following my directions. When we come to an understanding, I’ll name our destination.”

“Come on, Sherry. We just left a murder scene. I
should be writing it up, not following some lead I can’t write about.”

“I thought the paper’d gone to bed.”

“It has.”

“So you’ve got all day to write up your murder scene, haven’t you? Unless you’re expecting an extra.”

“The
Gazette
hasn’t run an extra in twenty years.”

“So what’s your problem?”

“I’d like to know what we’re doing.”

“You will, as soon as we have a deal.”

“How can I make a deal without knowing the facts?”

“It’s called trust, Aaron,” Sherry said pointedly. “You trust me not to do anything to hurt you.”

Aaron didn’t like her tone of voice, tried to make light of it. “Of course I do. I also trust you to always try to win.”

“This isn’t a game. This is a case of doing the right thing.”

“The right thing being …”

“Do we have a deal?”

“Why did we sneak off? Is this something you’re keeping from Chief Harper?”

“Of course.”

“Deal,” Aaron said firmly.

Sherry made a face. “You’re making all the wrong moves lately, Aaron. You won’t make a deal just to please me. But to spite Chief Harper, you can’t wait.”

“I’m doing this to please you. Spiting Chief Harper’s just the icing on the cake.”

“I thought you liked Chief Harper.”

“I do. Hey, didn’t I agree to withhold the minor detail about the crossword puzzle in the guy’s mouth? I play ball with Harper. But he’s a cop. It’s always nice to put one over on a cop.”

Aaron reached an intersection, turned left.

“I didn’t tell you to turn,” Sherry said.

“I know, but this is the way to Billy Pickens’s.”

“How do you know that’s where we’re going?”

“Isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but how’d you know?”

“The way his name didn’t come up in the conversation.”

“Sure hope he has an alibi.”

“Yeah, that would be nice, wouldn’t it?”

Aaron pulled into Billy Pickens’s driveway behind a Ford station wagon. Sara Pickens opened the door in her nightgown. “Yes?” she said. She didn’t look pleased to see them.

Sherry Carter didn’t waste time. “There was another murder tonight. Get your husband—we need to talk before the police get here.”

Sara Pickens gaped at them, then said softly, “Come in.” She left them in the kitchen, returned minutes later with her husband.

Billy Pickens was wearing blue pajamas and his bathrobe. At the sight of Aaron Grant he drew back in alarm. “You are not putting our family in the paper.”

“That’s right,” Aaron said. “This is off the record. At least until the police take some action.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? And what’s this about another murder? Who got killed?”

“Paul Thornhill, the big-deal celebrity contestant. Someone murdered him.”

“When?” Sara Pickens asked.

Billy Pickens frowned.

“The police don’t know yet,” Aaron answered, “but it was apparently sometime this evening. According to his wife, he went out to the liquor store and never came
back. So it’s important to pin down where everybody was tonight. Was your husband home all evening, Mrs. Pickens?”

Sara Pickens stared at him. “How can you ask me that? Billy had absolutely nothing to do with that man.”

“Maybe not,” Aaron said, “but Mrs. Roth was seen talking to him, just as she was seen talking to Billy.”

“This is insane,” Billy said. “Absolutely insane. Are you telling me I’m in danger?”

“That may well be,” Sherry Carter said before Aaron could reply. “But the immediate danger is that the police may suspect anyone with any connection to Mrs. Roth. She talked to both of you, and that’s enough for them. You’re gonna need an alibi, so if you had one it would be good. So were you here all evening?”

Billy glared at her. Sherry knew how he felt. It was a hell of a thing to be asking him in front of his wife, in light of the fact he’d snuck out to call on Cora.

“I went out earlier for pizza,” he said. “For the girls.”

“How much earlier?”

“I don’t know. Say around seven.”

“And after that?”

“I was home.”

“Is that right, Mrs. Pickens?”

“You doubt his word?” Sara Pickens said.

“Don’t be absurd,” Sherry told her. “If the police want an alibi, they don’t take anyone’s word, they want corroboration. Can you vouch for your husband’s whereabouts the rest of the evening?”

Sara Pickens grimaced. “Actually, I went out.”

“At what time?”

“Eight-thirty, nine.”

“Which was it, eight-thirty or nine?”

“Hey,” Billy said. “Leave my wife alone.”

“Get real,” Sherry told him. “When the police ask these questions, they’ll be very insistent. Let’s try to pin it down now.”

“It was probably closer to eight-thirty,” Sara told her. “I went to the store. The supermarket. Out at the mall.”

“When’d you get back?”

“I don’t know. Somewhere around ten.”

“You were gone an hour and a half?” Aaron said.