by Parnell Hall
“Yes, they did.”
“Why?”
“I have no idea.”
“Aren’t you curious?”
“Yes, I am. If you find out, I’d like to know.”
“You’re not going to help me solve this?”
“Solve what? The crime that wasn’t?”
“Someone clearly wants you to.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because of the number puzzle.”
“It’s a KenKen.”
“Whatever. The fact is you’re being challenged.”
“I’m always being challenged. It’s like open season on the Puzzle Lady around here.”
“You’re not going to do anything?”
“There’s nothing to do. This either means nothing, in which case there’s nothing we have to do. Or it means something we don’t know, so there’s nothing we can do.”
That answer did not satisfy Roger Randolph. “So, what are you going to do?” he said irritably.
Cora frowned. “It’s Thursday, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. So?”
She smiled. “I’m going to play bridge.”
Chapter
7
“Four hearts,” Cora said.
Iris Cooper’s face fell. The first selectman had just bid three no-trump and was obviously looking forward to playing a cold contract. Iris was not at all happy to have her partner take her out.
Cora wasn’t sorry. With a singleton ace of spades and no other outside entry, she was happy to play in hearts.
Cora smiled when she saw the dummy. Iris had a king, queen, doubleton of hearts. Cora didn’t have the ace. In no-trump, the defenders could have knocked out her only entry, rendering the long suit worthless. Iris, trying to take nine tricks without it, would have fallen one short.
“I lose a heart and a club, making five,” Cora said, tabling her hand.
Iris Cooper looked at the cards and smiled. “Oh. I see. Well done.”
“This round’s on me,” Cora said. She looked around for a waiter.
Cora was playing penny-a-point bridge in the bar of the Country Kitchen, Bakerhaven’s popular home-style restaurant. The bridge group played there every Thursday night. Cora had joined the game when she was still drinking. Somehow the transition hadn’t bothered her.
Cora caught the waiter’s eye. “I’m having a Diet Coke with a twist of lemon. These bad girls are drinking booze. Fill ’em up, and put it on my tab.”
The waiter was just leaving when a middle-aged man in a business suit said, “Are you the Puzzle Lady?”
Cora didn’t like being approached by fans, particularly when she was playing bridge. But the man wasn’t bad-looking, and pickings had been slim. She mustered a smile. “That’s me.”
“Miss Cora Felton, the Puzzle Lady?”
“That’s right. I’m playing cards right now, but if you’d care to stick around…”
“That won’t be necessary.” The man reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a paper, and thrust it in her hand. “Summons to appear in court. No need to get angry. Just doing my job.”
Cora felt the need to get angry. “What!?” she thundered, erupting from her chair. “You low-life son of a bitch! To ambush me at the bridge table! At a game I’m actually winning! Of all the miserable, sneaky, low-down—”
The process server was evidently used to encountering reactions of this sort. Before Cora could even launch into her more vulgar constructions, the man was gone.
Cora followed him out into the parking lot, waving the summons and offering to put an end to his career as a process server forever unless he was able to figure out a way to serve subpoenas on the Internet by typing with his nose. She did not stop until the man’s car rocketed out the driveway and disappeared into the night.
Cora went back inside, where her friends were commiserating over her bad fortune.
“What is it?” Iris Cooper asked.
“I don’t know,” Cora told her. “I’m too angry to read it.”
“Let me,” Iris said. She took the summons from Cora, smoothed it out, looked it over. “It appears to be a divorce complaint.”
“A divorce complaint? How can it be a divorce complaint? I’m not married!”
“It’s not a divorce complaint,” Iris said.
“It’s not? You just said it was.”
“I thought it was. It reads pretty much the same. But the guy doesn’t want a divorce. He wants an annulment.”
“An annulment!” Cora said. “That’s ridiculous! I may not remember all my marriages, but I damn sure never had one that wasn’t consummated. Who is this jerk?”
“Let’s see.” Iris flipped the page. “Ah, here we are. A Mr. Melvin Crabtree.”
Cora’s mouth fell open.
Chapter
8
Sherry couldn’t believe it. “Melvin?”
“Yes.”
“Your fifth husband?”
Cora waggled her fingers. “Give or take.”
“Cora.”
“Well, there’s a gray area.”
“As I recall, you didn’t like Melvin.”
“Your recollection is correct. Actually, I didn’t like any of my husbands, but for Melvin I had a particular loathing.”
“You didn’t like any of your husbands?”
“Oh, when I married them I did. Otherwise, why would I? Unless they were particularly rich.”
“You’re not really that cynical,” Sherry said. “You’re just talking tough because you’re scared.”
“Why, Sherry Carter, are you lecturing me? I swear, you’re acting very maternal.”
“That joke’s getting stale. You know perfectly well I’ve been lecturing you for years.”
“It’s nice to hear you finally admit it.”
“You’re doing everything in your power to avoid talking about Melvin.”
“I’m doing everything in my power to avoid Melvin. The man was out of my life, and here he is, back to haunt me. Even if it is only on a sheet of paper.”
“Will he be in court?”
“How the hell should I know. I didn’t expect to be in court.”
“You show this to Becky Baldwin?”
“No. I brought it home to show you.”
“I think you need a lawyer. Why don’t you ask Becky to represent you.”
“She’d probably want me to pay her.”
“Lawyers do like to be paid.”
“Damn it.”
“What’s the big deal, Cora? You got some money from your book sales.”
“Yes. Along with my alimony, it keeps me going.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“He wants to stop my alimony.”
“Melvin’s paying you alimony?”
“Of course he is. You think I’d let that son of a bitch get off scot-free?”
“Of course you wouldn’t.”
“Not that it’s princely. Twelve hundred a month doesn’t go nearly as far these days. I was actually thinking of asking the judge to increase it.”
“And Melvin wants it stopped?”
“Of course he does.”
“On what grounds?”
“That I have another husband living.”
Sherry’s eyes widened. “Chester T. Markowitz?”
Cora waggled her finger. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“You know like what. Like ‘I told you so.’ ”
“I was not looking at you like that.”
“What were you doing?”
“All right, I was looking at you like that. Don’t you think you deserve it?”
“Right, right. Kick a person when they’re down.”
“Cora, if you really stand to lose twelve hundred a month, isn’t it worth spending some of it on a lawyer to see that it doesn’t happen?”
“I know. It’s just the principle of the thing. The thought that Melvin would cost me a penny.”
“Wel
l, you’re costing him quite a bit.”
“And he deserves every cent. Oh, my God, Sherry. If you had any idea what that man was like. It wasn’t just the cheating and throwing it in my face and undermining me to my friends behind my back. Or making fun of my cooking.”
“You cooked?”
“Don’t start with me. The son of a bitch made me cook. Wheedled and cajoled me into cooking. Then ridiculed me for it. As he did everything else.”
“Everything else?”
“I don’t care to discuss it. The man was a master manipulator. Never laid a finger on me, I’ll give him that. But he could be the most sinister son of a bitch this side of the Marquis de Sade. I tell you, twelve hundred a month is a slap on the wrist. I wouldn’t go through it again for five grand.”
“You must have liked him at one time.”
“Of course I liked him. He was a fascinating, charismatic bad boy. He’s the one who taught me to shoot, for God’s sake. Utterly irresistible, as long as he was being a bad boy to somebody else.”
“You broke up his marriage.”
“Did I say that?”
“But you did, didn’t you? You were the other woman.”
Cora made a face. “Well, of course it sounds bad when you say it like that.”
“You liked being the other woman. Beating the wife’s time. It didn’t occur to you there’d be another other woman and the wife would be you.”
“Are you trying to piss me off?”
Sherry’s eyes twinkled. “So, you don’t like it when a person won’t stop teasing you?”
Cora smoldered in silence.
“You really haven’t been married since Melvin?”
“I almost was.”
“Oh. Right.”
Cora’s last engagement had ended badly. It coincided with her stopping drinking. Cora hadn’t come close to the altar since. Sherry wondered if there was a connection. She wasn’t about to point it out.
“So, marrying would have stopped Melvin’s alimony. A good reason to stay single.”
“Not the only one,” Cora said. “You get married, the first thing you know you’re knocked up and trying to deny it.”
Sherry ignored the jab. “Nice try. The topic is your ex-husband. Which is somewhat ironic. When we started living together, the topic was my ex-husband. But Dennis has been a good boy lately. Haven’t heard from him in months.”
“What am I going to do?” Cora said.
“Only one thing I can think of.”
“What’s that?”
Sherry smiled. “Why don’t we put my picture on the Puzzle Lady column, and I’ll pretend I write it, so you can hide from your abusive ex-husband.”
Chapter
9
Becky Baldwin could have passed for a Victoria’s Secret model. Men wanting to hire her were hopelessly torn. They liked the idea of having her around but doubted that anyone who looked like her could know any law.
They would be wrong. Becky Baldwin was as sharp as they came, probably could have made partner in some prestigious law firm, if she could have stood working for someone. But Becky liked calling her own shots.
She looked up from reading the summons.
“Well?” Cora said.
“This isn’t good.”
“I don’t need a lawyer to tell me that.”
“I always like to make the circumstances seem dire before I jack up my fee.”
“I’m not amused, Becky.”
“I wasn’t joking. This is a court appearance with a lot of money involved. If I win, I get mine.”
“You’re taking it on contingency?”
“Yes, wouldn’t that be nice. I’m taking it on retainer against contingency. You pay me to go to court. If I win, you pay me more.”
“Since when did you get so hard-nosed?”
“There’s a lot of money involved. Your alimony is twelve hundred forty-three bucks. That’s more than the monthly rent on my office and apartment combined. And your books are selling.”
“How do you know that?”
“Amazon.com. When you called for the appointment, I logged on and checked your numbers. You’re doing very well indeed.”
“Great,” Cora said. “So how do I win the case?”
“I don’t know. It seems you rather injudiciously accepted a check for ten thousand dollars from a man you never met.”
“You think I should have turned it down?”
“I thought you were good at math. Or is it just putting numbers in a line? Your alimony is nearly twelve hundred fifty bucks a month. Times two would be twenty-five hundred. Times four would be five thousand. Times eight would be ten thousand. So, you tell me. Is it worth ten thousand dollars to give up your alimony?”
“I bet when you add in your fee it isn’t.”
“My fee is to keep that from happening.”
“Oh? I thought it was just to go to court. The contingency was for stopping that from happening.”
“If you’d prefer to hire some other lawyer…”
“Did I say that?”
“Relax, Cora. You’ve been in worse scrapes than this. You always come up with something. How come this time you can’t think clearly?”
“This time it’s Melvin.”
“Oh.”
Cora’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean by that?”
“You still have feelings for him.”
Cora scowled, took out a pack of cigarettes.
“No smoking.”
“You wanna needle me about my ex-husband, I’m gonna smoke.”
“So you do have feelings for him.”
“I have feelings, and they’re not kind. The man made my life a living hell.”
“In what way?”
“Why?”
“Why? Don’t be silly. If that man’s going to try to get your alimony reduced, I need all the ammunition I can get.”
“He’s not trying to get it reduced. He’s trying to get it stopped.”
“Same thing.”
“The hell it is! He’s not saying I deserve less, he’s saying he shouldn’t be paying at all!”
“I understand the situation.”
“So why does it matter what a creep he is?”
“It always matters. If this goes to the jury—”
“Jury! What the hell do you mean, jury? Alimony’s up to the judge.”
“Yes, but if there are criminal charges…”
“Criminal! Now see here! I came in with a simple property settlement, you’re blowing it up into the trial of the century.”
“That’s a bit of an exaggeration.”
“Well, the century just started.” Cora strode to the door, stepped out in the stairwell, lit her cigarette. Becky’s office was on the second floor over a pizza parlor. It was early Friday morning, but they were already open. The smell of smoke mingled with the smell of pepperoni.
“I’m not trying to scare you, Cora. But if this guy’s a jerk, he’s going to pull out all the stops. Obtaining money under false pretenses is not looked on kindly by the courts.”
“That’s why it’s up to you to show it didn’t happen. Not that I should get off lightly because my ex-husband’s a creep.”
“Of course. And that’s what I’m going to do. In the meantime, humor me. Tell me about Melvin.”
Cora exhaled a cloud of smoke. “I met him in Vegas. My marriage had fallen apart, I was drowning my sorrows in settlement money. Not really drowning my sorrows—more like taking a victory lap. I was playing poker. Seven-card stud. He was at the table. I probably wouldn’t have noticed him at all, except he folded a winning hand.”
“What do you mean?”
“I bluffed, and he folded a winner.”
“How do you know he had a winner?”
“He had me beat on board.”
“Huh?”
“Stick with law, kid. Anyway, he said, ‘Nice hand, little lady.’ He smiled. Slimy son of a bitch.”
“Never mind the slimy part. That
came later. You liked him then. How come?”
“He was an attractive man. Wavy hair, flashing eyes, lovely smile, good teeth.”
“Oh.”
“The teeth were capped, the hair was plugs, the eyes were roving. Complete phony. I should have known.”
“What did he do?”
Cora snorted. “Rat bastard bought me a drink.”
“That’s not so bad.”
“He was there with his wife.”
“Oh.” Becky considered. “That’s good.”
“How is that good?”
“If he was cheating on his wife, I can raise the inference he was cheating on you. It never hurts to stir the pot of marital infidelity.”
“You speaking as a lawyer?”
“How else would I be speaking?”
“Aaron just got married.”
“Aaron is not my first ex-boyfriend to get married.”
“Hmm. Bad track record?”
“Finish your cigarette and come back in. We don’t really need to discuss this where the people in the pizza parlor can hear.”
“You didn’t mind discussing my life where the people in the pizza parlor can hear.”
“You don’t run a business over the pizza parlor. Come in when you’re done.”
Cora stubbed out her cigarette, flipped it out the window. She went in to find Becky sitting at her desk. “Gee. I scared you back into stuffy lawyer mode.”
Becky ignored the comment, poised a pencil over a legal pad. “So, you met him in Vegas. How soon after that were you married?”
“About six months.”
“That long?”
“Well, he had to get a divorce.”
“Of course. Silly me. Are you sure he did?”
“Why?”
“Be interesting if he hadn’t. The guy’s going to throw another husband at you, you could throw another wife at him.”
“What good would that do?”
“We’re trying to put you in the better light. These are our talking points. Husbands cheat. Men are pigs. He did cheat on you, didn’t he?”
“He cheated on the honeymoon.”
“Can you prove it?”
“Yeah, if you can subpoena some nameless cocktail waitress who worked some nightclub in New York.”
“Some nightclub?”
“People drink in nightclubs. Things get fuzzy.”
“Great.” Becky sighed. “All right. Let me ask you the money question.”
