Puzzled to Death (34 page)

I
T SEEMED FITTING THAT IN A TOWN WHERE MOST
houses were white with black shutters, Zelda Zisk had managed to find one that looked like a gingerbread house. Zelda’s bed-and-breakfast had more pointed peaks than structures twice its size, its facing was stucco rather than wood, and it was painted light chocolate brown with dark chocolate trim. The house couldn’t have suited Zelda better if she’d owned it, though Cora knew she was from New York.

Zelda was subdued, for her. “You’re here about Paul.” She sighed tragically and shook her head. The effect was like dropping a box of silverware on the sidewalk. “Horrible business. Come on in. They let me use the living room. We can talk there.”

Cora and Sherry followed Zelda inside to a living room dominated by a large marble fireplace and decorated with dolls. There were china dolls, straw dolls, cloth dolls, plastic and rubber dolls. They lined the mantlepiece and the
windowsills, nestled on shelves and end tables, even hung on the walls.

“I know, I know,” Zelda said, as Cora and Sherry gawked at the surroundings. “It’s like being on the ‘It’s a Small World After All’ ride at Disney World.” Zelda laughed deeply, then seemed to recall the solemnity of the occasion. “You get used to it after a while. Sit down and let’s talk. You’ll pardon me if I move things along, but I gotta make calls if I’m not gonna be back to the city till tomorrow.”

“Oh?” Cora said. “If you don’t mind my asking, you have a day job?”

“Of course I do.” Zelda snorted. “What, you think I do puzzles for a living? I’m a stockbroker. If I’m not gonna be back till tomorrow afternoon, someone’s gotta cover.”

“What if they can’t?”

“Then I go home. No disrespect meant, but it’s just a charity tournament.”

“What about the police investigation?” Cora asked.

Zelda shrugged. “I don’t recall anyone instructing me to stay. If they want me, they know where to find me.”

“Have the police talked to you already?”

“Why would they? Frankly, I don’t understand why
you’re
talking to me.”

“You knew Paul Thornhill.”

“Yes, I did. And I’m saddened and dismayed by his loss. But there’s nothing I can do. We have to move on.”

“I’d kind of like to catch his killer,” Cora said.

“And I’d like to help you. But I don’t know anything that would be of use.”

“Maybe not. But would you mind answering a few questions?”

“Hey, I let you in. But could you make it quick? I gotta make those calls.”

“Did you know Thornhill well?”

“I knew him from the games. Young up-and-comer. Bright, handsome, personable, everything going for him. And then he marries an heiress. Real rags-to-riches story. If I were a guy, I might be jealous of another guy having so much luck.”

“Were you jealous anyway?”

Zelda smiled and bobbed her head, resulting in chimes. “Yes, I was. Good point. Gender doesn’t enter into it. Yes, I was. Paul was just so successful in every way. So talented. And so skilled. He wasn’t just a good solver, he was a good constructor too.”

“Don’t the two go hand in hand?”

“Not at all.
You
construct, and I’ve never seen
you
compete. On the other hand, I’ve been in the top ten for years, and I can’t construct worth a damn.” Zelda made a face. “That’s why I did those drawings. Not that I can draw either. But Harvey asked me and I had to do something. It doesn’t really hurt me to be bad at drawing—so the sketches aren’t great, it doesn’t matter, it’s not what I do. Better that than turn in a lousy puzzle, let ’em see how poorly I construct.”

“And you weren’t jealous that Paul could?”

“Of course I was. He had a real flair. Sensitive, artistic, imaginative. He constructed really clever, ingenious puzzles. But I didn’t kill him because of it. That would be absurd.”

“I admit it seems unlikely,” Cora mused. “Tell me something. You were at old Beerbaum’s barbecue when this tournament was first planned last September?”

“That’s right. Why?”

“Did you go out afterward?”

“No. As I recall, I went straight home to the city.”

“You drove home that night?”

“I don’t remember, but I must have.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I didn’t stay here. I booked this bed-and-breakfast for the tournament, and it’s the first time I’ve stayed in Bakerhaven. Why do you want to know about the barbecue?”

“Whoever killed Thornhill probably knew him. Most of the people who knew him were there that day.”

“You mean Craig Carmichael and Ned Doowacker? That’s quite a stretch.”

“Did they go out with him after the barbecue?”

“I have no idea.”

“But you don’t think either of them would have killed him?”

“No, I don’t.”

“That leaves you.”

Zelda laughed, causing her jaw to ripple. “Oh ho. Clever interrogation technique. I think you’ve trapped me.”

“Somehow I doubt it,” Cora said cheerfully. “Do you have an alibi for the time of the murder?”

“Am I supposed to know the time of the murder?”

“You do if you killed him.”

“Unfortunately, I didn’t. Kill him, that is. Therefore I don’t have an alibi for the time of the murder—whenever that was—and you got me dead to rights.”

“How about yesterday evening, eight to midnight?”

“I can give you eight to ten. I was at the Country Kitchen. You saw me there. Having drinks with a young woman who happens to know my mother-in-law.” Zelda made a face. “How’s that for
inhibiting
? Ordinarily, I might have stayed out, let some guy buy me a drink. But under the circumstances, I was back here by ten.”

“Anyone see you come in?”

“Nope. I’m the only guest. And the people who run this place were out.” Zelda cocked her head, which was both musical and disconcerting. “So how about it? Is my alibi good enough?”

“I’m afraid not,” Cora told her.

“That’s what I figured.” Zelda’s eyes twinkled. “Then I guess those business calls will have to wait. There’s another call I gotta make first.”

Cora frowned. “Gonna call your lawyer?”

“No, my husband.” Zelda giggled, and jingled. “I can’t wait to hear what he says when I tell him I’m a murder suspect.”

C
HARLOTTE
D
RAKE WAS HOME
. S
HE USHERED
S
HERRY
and Cora into a neat but inexpensively furnished living room, said, “All right, talk. But make it quick.”

Cora Felton smiled. “Make it quick? You act as if I have something to tell you.”

“You mean you don’t?” Charlotte said.

“Quite the contrary. I think you have something to tell me.”

“Well, I don’t,” Charlotte said.

Cora sized her up. Charlotte was dressed today in sweater and jeans but had makeup on and her hair curled. “You just come from the town hall?” Cora asked.

“What’s that got to do with you?”

Cora shrugged. “It’s not a big admission. Everybody was just at the town hall. Were you there with your husband?”

“Yeah. So?”

“Where’s he?”

“He and Ray went over to Chuck’s to watch the football game. Chuck’s got a big-screen TV.”

“At eleven in the morning?”

“They like to get a head start.”

“Uh-huh,” Cora said. “The police been here yet?”

Charlotte paled. “What?”

“I take it they haven’t. You better get ready.”

“Why would the police come here?”

“Because Thornhill got bumped off last night.”

“So? What’s that got to do with me?”

“Ned Doowacker’s a suspect. You’re his alibi.”

“Oh, my God!” Charlotte gasped.

“Exactly,” Cora said. “Now what have you got to tell me?”

“Oh, my God!”

“That’s a bit repetitious,” Cora said, “but it’ll do for a start. You alibiing Ned Doowacker for the whole night, say eight to twelve, or just for an hour or two?”

“This can’t be happening,” Charlotte said. “The police think Ned did it?”

“He’s just one of many suspects. But they asked him for an alibi, and guess what he said?”

“Damn it to hell.”

“Not quite. But he wasn’t particularly pleased. When pressed, he named you.”

“To the police?”

“That’s right. You’re the alibi he gave them to check.”

“That son of a bitch—”

Cora nodded. “Admittedly, not the most heroic of men.”

“So how will they check? The police are gonna come here?”

“Unless you head them off by going there. You could
drop by the station, make a statement.” Cora could almost see Charlotte’s mind whirring, calculating. “Before the football game’s over,” she added.

“Yeah, I could do that,” Charlotte said.

“I assume Ned Doowacker has a perfect alibi, otherwise you wouldn’t be so eager to supply it.”

“I assure you it was completely innocent,” Charlotte said. “We had some drinks, shot some pool.”

“How’s Ned shoot?” Sherry asked.

Charlotte frowned at the interruption. “Why?”

“No reason. He just doesn’t strike me as the pool type.”

“Ned’s very smart.” Charlotte said it defensively. “You live with a man who watches football all the time, it’s nice to talk to someone who’s smart.”

“And last night wasn’t the first time you’d ever seen Ned,” Cora said. “You made the date the night before. But you’d met him some time back.”

“What if I did?”

“The police may not be interested, but I am. Way back in September, when you first met Ned—was that in the Rainbow Room?”

“How do you know?”

“I have his side of the story. I’d like to hear yours.”

“Side of the story?”

“Bad choice of words. Viewpoint, perhaps. He remembers Judy Vale as being there. He doesn’t remember her, really, but he recognized her as someone he’d seen before, and that’s the only place where it could have happened. So I’m wondering if you know if she was there that night.”

“Sure I do. As a matter of fact, I got a ride there with her because it was Saturday night and the boys were playing cards.”

“Did you notice who else was there that night?”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s been a lot of talk about Billy Pickens being the guy Judy was sweet on. Could they have been together at the Rainbow Room that night?”

Charlotte shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Well, where did you get the idea those two were an item?”

“Are you kidding? I got it from Judy.”

“She told you about Pickens herself?”

“Sure she did. Judy wasn’t one to keep a secret.”

“I see,” Cora said. “And what about you? Did you tell Judy about Ned?”

“Me?” Charlotte said. “What’s there to tell? It’s not like we were sleeping together.”

“Maybe not, but did you tell her anyway?”

“I might have.”

“And did she tell you anything in return? About what went on that evening? Say, maybe on the car ride home?”

Charlotte’s gaze faltered. Cora pounced.

“What is it?” she demanded. “Didn’t you go home with Judy that night?”

“No,” Charlotte said defensively. “But there’s absolutely nothing wrong. So Ned gave me a ride home. What’s the big deal?”

“Nothing,” Cora said. “So you went home with Ned that night. And Judy drove herself home, and you talked about it later?”

“Oh, all right,” Charlotte snapped. “She wanted to know all about Ned. And there was really nothing to tell.”

“Maybe not,” Cora said. “But Judy wouldn’t leave it at that, would she? She wanted to know about the guy who drove you home.”

“Well, sure, that was only natural, since I didn’t go home with her.”

“What did you tell her?”

“I told her I met a crossword-puzzle guy, brainy type, quiet and shy.”

“What did she say to that?”

“For some reason that really amused her. She said, ‘What a coincidence. Quiet and shy, huh?’ ”

“What did she mean by that?”

“I don’t know. I thought she meant she met a shy guy too, but she didn’t say. The next thing I know she’s running around with Billy Pickens, so maybe she’s talking about him. But he’s not shy.”

“Uh-huh. Tell me something. Were there other crossword-puzzle people at the Rainbow Room that night?”

“I didn’t notice.”

“What about Zelda Zisk?”

“Who?”

“The really big woman with all the jewelry. And the makeup. Surely you would have noticed her.”

“Well, I didn’t. I got involved talking with Ned.”

“If he’s so shy, how’d that happen?”

Charlotte smiled. “That’s funny, really. He spilled my drink. Ned’s kind of clumsy. He was sitting next to me at the bar, he reached for some peanuts, he knocked my glass over. Of course he apologized and cleaned it up and bought me another. And we got to talking.”

“Interesting,” Cora said. “You think he did it on purpose? Knocked your glass over?”

Charlotte frowned. “No, Ned wouldn’t do that,” she said, but she was clearly considering it.

“Now, last night, when you were talking with Ned, did he mention that first night you met?”

“Why do you want to know that?”

“Humor me. Did Ned talk about it?”

“Well, of course he did. He laughed about it. Spilling my drink and all. He asked if I wanted him to spill another.”

“Witty guy,” Cora said. “And of course he must have talked about the tournament, and how he was doing, and how he felt about it.”