Puzzled to Death (6 page)

“Sometimes the Rainbow Room,” Charlotte conceded. “But sometimes somewhere else.”

“Well, it wasn’t me,” Betty protested. “I never told him anything about his wife. Even if I know things, I always keep them to myself.”

“What sort of things?” Cora asked sweetly.

Betty made a face. “That was just a for-instance. I don’t know anything. I didn’t even know they’d had a fight.”

“Well, I did,” Charlotte said. “I heard Joey storm out of here. Last night, right before supper. At least before
my
supper.
He
didn’t get any supper. Pulled into the driveway, slammed the car door. I knew it was going to be bad just from how hard that door slammed. Then he was inside
yelling at her. Who’s it this time, does she think he’s a fool, does she think he doesn’t know?”

“Did he?” Cora inquired.

“What?”

“Know,” Cora said. “Did Joey know who it was this time?”

“Well, he knew who he thought it was. That Billy Pickens from the paper mill. At least that’s what he said.”

“And was it true?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Charlotte said. “I mind my own business.”

Cora managed to keep a straight face. “That’s too bad, under the circumstances. Is there anyone around here
doesn’t
mind their business?”

“Of course,” Betty said. She leveled her stubby finger at the house across the street. “Old lady Roth. She’s a widow, living on Social Security, sits with her nose glued to the window. Probably watching us now.”

“Did the police talk to her?”

“Sure did.”

“What’d she say?”

Charlotte snorted derisively. “As if she talks to
us
.”

The widow Roth lived in a modest two-story house that had fallen on hard times. Cora could feel eyes on her from the front window as she came up the walk. Cora went up on the porch and rang the doorbell. It didn’t work. At least she heard nothing inside—no chime, no buzz, no bell. Cora knocked on the door. After a few moments, she knocked again.

There was no sound of footsteps approaching, but the door was suddenly yanked open, and a hideous troll face peered out of the gloom inside.

“Who are you and what do you want?” snarled the troll.

Cora Felton favored the troll with her best breakfast-cereal-selling smile. “I’m Cora Felton. I’d like to talk to you about the murder across the street. That is, if you’re Mrs. Roth.”

“That’s me. Are you a reporter?”

“Oh, no. I assure you, I’m not from the press.”

Cora Felton had the impression Mrs. Roth scowled, but her face had been so forbidding from the start that it was hard to tell.

“That’s annoying,” Mrs. Roth said. “I’ve been expecting reporters.”

Cora swiftly reversed fields. “I know a reporter, and I’d be glad to send him over. If I could just ask you a few questions first …”

“Very well.” Mrs. Roth stepped aside and ushered her in to a living room that was neat as a pin and looked as if it hadn’t been used since the nineteen fifties. The couch was vinyl. A black-and-white TV was on a metal stand and had rabbit ears on top.

The windows had roller shades, which were down. The shade to the left, Cora noted, was slightly curled and had fingerprint smudges at eye level for anyone sitting down. A straight-backed chair stood between the windows in easy reach.

The living room was dark. The overhead light was out. The only illumination came from a floor lamp in a corner.

Cora sized Mrs. Roth up. The troll wore a simple print dress and a knit shawl and seemed less ogrelike in the shadows of the room.

And she had wanted to talk to a reporter.

Cora pointed to the smudges on the shade. “You watch from the window?”

“Absolutely.” Far from being offended, Mrs. Roth seemed proud. “I see everything that goes on.”

“You see the police come this morning?”

Mrs. Roth jerked her thumb at the couch. “Sit down. I’ll tell you what happened, then you tell the reporter, then he can come.”

Cora sat on the couch. Mrs. Roth sat opposite in an easy chair. “So,” Mrs. Roth said. “The woman came this morning to pick her up for tennis. How do I know? Because it’s the same woman all the time, and Judy always carries a racket when she leaves. So I see the woman’s car pull in the drive, routine, no big deal, I don’t bother to watch. In fact, I went in the kitchen, made myself a cup of tea. I get back and the car’s still there. Which makes no sense. How long does it take to pick someone up? Then I hear the siren, and the police car pulls up. It’s the chief himself. He runs inside, is out minutes later with Cindy Fuller. That’s the woman came to pick her up. Believe me, he is not happy. Now I know why. Cops don’t like it when you run around a crime scene. Cindy Fuller goes in, finds Judy dead on the kitchen floor, and—get this—uses the kitchen phone to call the cops. No wonder the chief’s upset.”

“And what happened then?” Cora prompted, unnecessarily. Mrs. Roth was clearly primed to spill all she knew.

“Another police car pulls up with the young cop in it. Dan Finley. The chief passes Cindy Fuller off to Finley. Just in time to deal with the EMS guys. They all go in together. The doctor shows up last.”

“And the police talked to you?”

“Sure did. The chief, himself, came over to take my statement.”

“And what did you tell him?”

“Oh, I knew a thing or two. But I didn’t let him off as easy as that. You think he got anything out of me without talking first?”

“You made him tell you what was going on?”

Mrs. Roth’s eyes twinkled. “I merely inquired why he needed to know. He soon realized he wasn’t going to get any information unless I felt it was relevant.”

“What did he tell you?”

“What I already knew. Cindy Fuller’d come to pick up Judy Vale, rung the bell, got no answer, gone inside, found her dead on the kitchen floor.”

“How’d Cindy get in?”

“The front door was unlocked.”

“Was that usual?”

“I don’t know, because Judy always came to the door before.”

“Good point,” Cora agreed. “So what did you tell the chief?”

“What I saw.”

“Which was?”

“Joey and Judy had a fight last night.”

“Was
that
usual?”

“Like the sun coming up.”

“What did they fight about?”

“Another man.”

“Who?”

“Couldn’t tell you.”

Cora frowned. “How come?”

Mrs. Roth pointed toward the window. “The light over her front door. Most nights it’s on. But some nights it’s off. Those were the nights. The nights he’d come.”

“Her lover?”

“Well, what do you think? The TV repairman? Who
comes at night when her husband’s gone and the lights are all out?”

“How often did he come?”

“
He
? What makes you think it’s one?”

“What makes you think it’s more?”

“Even in the dark you can tell the difference. Light step. Heavy tread.”

“But never during the day? Why not during the day when her husband works?”

“For all to see?” Mrs. Roth scoffed. “Trip up the path in broad daylight? I think not. And most men work too. Anyway, that’s how she does it. At night, when her husband takes off, she turns out the light. And then someone sneaks over.”

“From where?”

“No one’s stupid enough to drive up the drive. If it’s no one from around here, they must leave the car down the road and walk up. Anyway, that’s what Joey’s bawling her out about last night. Then he takes off in a huff, and, wouldn’t you know it, after he’s gone her light goes out again.”

Cora’s eyes widened. “Her lover came by last night!”

“That he did. And isn’t that a fine state of affairs, the very same night her husband’s bawling her out.”

“You told this to the police?”

“Absolutely. The chief was very interested. He was disappointed I couldn’t give him a name.”

“But you heard the man call on her. Around what time was that?”

“Late. Around ten o’clock.”

“What time did the man leave?”

“I don’t know. I went to bed.”

“You went to bed?”

“Well, why not? It’s not like I could see anything. Or
hear anything. Their bedroom’s in the back. So I don’t know, it’s just how long he stays, why should I wait up for that?”

“What if her husband came home?”

“But he wouldn’t. Joey’s off drinking, he stays till the Rainbow Room closes, one o’clock. Which is what she counts on, why it’s safe for men to come. As long as they’re gone before one. Not that she ever cuts it that close. Gone before midnight, sure enough, every time I’ve waited up.”

“Except last night you didn’t.”

Mrs. Roth seemed crestfallen. “No, I didn’t. The one time it would have done some good. ’Course, I would have had to wait up till after one. When Joey came home. And finally went too far.”

“That’s your theory?” Cora said, sensing a kindred spirit. “That Joey killed her when he got home?”

The look that Mrs. Roth gave her implied that Cora must not have a brain in her head. “Of course he did. He got home, found the proof she’d been seeing another man. What, I don’t know, but he did. Maybe it was footprints from the guy’s boots. Or something he dropped—a handkerchief, a card, maybe even a condom wrapper. Whatever, Joey
knows
the guy’s been there, and he blows up and strangles Judy.”

“At one o’clock in the morning?”

“That’s right.”

“And then he sits up all night with the corpse and calmly leaves for work in the morning.”

“Calmly, no, but leaves for work, yes, he does, ’cause as far as he’s concerned he’s gotta go on acting like nothing happened.”

“You saw him leave for work?”

“Oh, yes, I did.”

“And he was excited?”

“Excited doesn’t cover it. It’s too mild a word.”

“Wait a minute,” Cora objected. “You’re saying when Joey Vale left for work this morning you
knew
something was wrong?”

“That I did.”

“Then how come you didn’t call the police?”

“I knew something was
wrong
. I didn’t know Judy was
dead.
”

“Couldn’t what was wrong be the fact they fought and never made up? And he got up and left for work still in a foul mood? And after he did, someone came and strangled his wife?”

“Couldn’t have happened.” Mrs. Roth was firm.

“Why not?”

“No one came near that house from the time Joey left for work until Cindy Fuller came to pick Judy up to play tennis. I’d have seen anyone.”

“Okay,” Cora said. “So what about the night before? You say you went to bed. What if the guy who came last night killed Judy
before
he left? Then Joey gets home around one, climbs into bed in the dark, climbs out of bed in the morning, and goes off to work with no idea anything was wrong?”

“He didn’t.”

“Oh?”

“I told you. I saw Joey leave for work.”

“And?”

Mrs. Roth looked smug. “He
knew
something was wrong.”

“How do you know?”

Mrs. Roth grimaced. “Here’s where the police are giving
me a hard time. They claim I should have notified them. Like you were saying before. But is that fair? I think not. After all, it’s his house.”

“What do you mean, it’s his house?”

“Just like I say. Maybe he was acting funny, but he wasn’t doing anything illegal. So why should I call the police?”

“About what?” Cora said, baffled. “What did you see Joey Vale do?”

Mrs. Roth pointed toward her window. “The road curves. From that window there you can see the front of their house. You can also see the side. The kitchen side. Where she was found.”

“So? What did you see?”

“Joey Vale, breaking the lock on his own kitchen door.”

“H
E DID IT,
” C
ORA
F
ELTON SAID BITTERLY, TWISTING
the top off the vodka bottle. Cora was making herself a Bloody Mary, and nothing Sherry could say was going to stop her. Cora simply wasn’t in the mood. She raised the glass, tilted the bottle, poured in a generous slug.

“What makes you think he did it?” Sherry had been seated at the kitchen table making up clues for the Puzzle Lady column when Cora stomped in.

“I don’t think, I know,” Cora said. “He lied to the police, and he lied to his lawyer. Claimed he didn’t even know she was dead. Well, guess what? He knew perfectly well.”

“That’s an assumption.”

Cora snorted, fetched the tomato juice from the refrigerator. “They got a witness who saw him breaking the lock on the kitchen door. So he could claim later that someone broke in and strangled her.”

“I admit that’s not good.”

“You needn’t sound so pleased,” Cora groused. “I
know you’re eager to see Becky Baldwin fail. Well, boy, did you luck out. Her client’s a lying, killing creep.”

“Is that all you’ve got?” Sherry asked mildly.

“Isn’t that enough?” Cora was so angry she skipped the spices. She stirred the vodka and tomato juice with her finger.

“Maybe not,” Sherry said. “Say Joey found Judy’s body, panicked, figured he’d be the chief suspect, and tried to make it look like someone else did it.”

“I like it,” Cora said, taking a huge gulp. “Now you’re thinking like me. I don’t believe it for a minute, but I like it just fine.”