The KenKen Killings

by Parnell Hall

  “He has an attorney.”

  “He has a divorce lawyer. You think little Mr. Shysterpants ever handled a murder case? He’ll need a criminal attorney. He’ll hire Becky Baldwin.”

  “He can’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “She’ll turn him down.”

  “Yeah, right. Becky’s really in a position to turn down a six-figure retainer.”

  “Six-figure?”

  “Melvin’s got it. Melvin’s always got money. Anyway, he’ll tie up Becky Baldwin so she can’t represent me in the alimony suit.”

  “But you hired her first.”

  “Right. I’m sure that will be a point in my favor when I stand up to Melvin and say, ‘No, you can’t have her, I had her first,’ while Becky is saying, ‘Yes, he can.’ ”

  “You’re not going to turn over the gun?”

  “Of course I’m going to turn over the gun. I’m just not going to turn it over like this.”

  “So, what are you going to do?”

  “The same thing you’re going to do. I’m going to go back to the house, look Bambi straight in the eye, and tell her we searched the motel room and couldn’t find a thing.”

  Chapter

  32

  Bambi was incredulous. “Nothing?”

  “Absolutely nothing. A hundred and six must mean something else.”

  Bambi scrunched up her nose. “I don’t understand.”

  “There’s nothing to understand. There was nothing there.”

  Aaron had been feeding Bambi coffee and she seemed to have sobered up. “That’s stupid. With so much coincidence, it must be true.”

  “What coincidence?” Cora said.

  “Well, the letter. Coming under our door. In one oh five. And telling us to look in one oh six.”

  “It doesn’t really tell us to look in one oh six.”

  “It adds up to one oh six.”

  “That was your idea. It’s just a theory. There are other theories.”

  “Like what?”

  “One oh six could be a post office box number.”

  “That’s silly.”

  “The idea the numbers add up at all is far-fetched.”

  “But the crossword said—”

  “Yes, it did. Let me take another look at the puzzle.”

  Cora scanned the crossword, looking for something she could point to.

  The word main jumped out at her.

  “Look at that,” Cora said.

  “What?”

  “33 Across. Main. We have a Main Street in town.”

  “Every town has a Main Street.”

  “Every town doesn’t have a murder and a crossword puzzle and a KenKen.”

  Cora slapped the puzzle on the coffee table, headed for the door.

  “Where are you going?” Bambi said.

  “To check out this lead.”

  “What lead? There’s no lead. What are you talking about, ‘this lead’?”

  “Sherry, come with me. Aaron, keep feeding her coffee. You’re doing a great job.”

  Sherry ran after Cora, hopped into the car as Cora took off down the drive. “Where are you going?”

  “I’m following this new lead. One oh six Main Street. It seems very promising. I want to check it out.”

  “Slow down. What’s the hurry?”

  “I want to get there before Bambi overpowers your hubby and catches up with us.”

  “That’s not going to happen.”

  “You don’t know for sure. Women have an amazing amount of strength where Melvin is involved. They can bench-press five times their own body weight.”

  “Cora.”

  “What’s the street number of the police station?”

  “I never noticed.”

  “Me either. It would be embarrassing if it was one oh six. But I don’t think it has a number. I think it just says ‘Police Station.’ I mean, it’s not that it doesn’t have a number, I’m sure it has a number, it’s just that it doesn’t say the number.”

  “Watch the road, will you?”

  “I’m driving just fine. But you’re right. It would be a hell of a time to get pulled over.”

  Cora cruised into town. The police station was indeed without a number. But the library across the street was 11.

  “There you are,” Cora said. “The police station must be ten or twelve or something. And, yes, the drugstore’s eighteen. The numbers go up as you go out of town.”

  Cora drove along Main. A half mile out of town, the houses got farther apart.

  “Here we go. Let’s see, ninety-six, a hundred, a hundred and two, a hundred and eight.”

  Cora slammed on the brakes. The car skidded to a stop.

  “No hundred and six?” Sherry said.

  “Shut up.”

  “Gee, it was such a good theory.”

  “It’s still a good theory.”

  “How?”

  “It’s a two-way street.”

  “What?”

  Cora wrenched the wheel through a U-turn, sped back toward town. Slowed as she neared the library.

  “Okay, here we go. Eleven. Seven. Five. And we’re at the corner. Look. See? The numbers start up again.”

  “This is North Street,” Sherry said.

  “North Main Street.”

  “It’s North Street.”

  “So what? It’s the same street. Did we turn a corner? No. We’re going in a straight line.”

  “I don’t recall the word north in the puzzle.”

  “I don’t either.”

  “So what made you try this way?”

  “Because it wasn’t that way.”

  “Cora.”

  “Sherry, I’ve got a gun in my purse. Actually, two guns. One I always have. The other is superfluous. I’ve gotta get rid of it. I’d like to do that without making us accessories to a murder. Which we would be if I threw it in the woods. Which is starting to look more and more tempting.”

  “Don’t you dare.”

  “Well, then, stop with the North Street. I know it’s North Street. I’m doing the best I can.”

  They had reached a stretch of meadowland where the mailboxes were infrequent and the houses were set back from the road.

  “Seventy-five. Good. All right, here we go. What’s that number? Ninety-four. Come on, one oh six. Come on, one oh six.”

  “You sound like you’re in Vegas.”

  “I wish I were in Vegas.”

  “What’s the next number? Ninety-eight. Every four numbers. Good. One oh two, one oh six. Come on. Come on. And the next mailbox is…”

  A hundred.

  “Damn! That throws the whole thing off!”

  The next mailbox was 102.

  “Back on track!”

  Cora flashed around a curve. There was a driveway at the top of a hill.

  “If that’s one oh eight, I’m going to lose it.”

  It was 106.

  Cora hit the brakes, screeched into a turn, stopped at the mailbox. In front of her was a two-story frame house with no car in the drive.

  “Good. Perfect.”

  Cora jumped out of the car, raced to the mailbox, and jerked it open.

  It was full of mail.

  Well, nothing she could do about that now.

  Cora reached in her purse, pulled out a gun, thrust it into the mailbox. Pulled it out, double-checked to make sure it was the right one. It was. She put it back in the mailbox and snapped it shut. She took a breath, opened the mailbox, pulled out the gun. She ran back to the car and hopped in.

  “Sherry. We have to go to the police. I just found a gun.”

  Chapter

  33

  Chief Harper could not have looked more skeptical had Cora attempted to sell him snake oil.

  “You found this gun in a mailbox?”

  “That’s right.”

  “On North Street?”

  “North Main Street.”

  “It’s just called North Street.”

 
“Oh.”

  “And how did you come to find it?”

  “I’m not prepared to answer that.”

  “What!”

  “There’s a gray area here, Chief. I don’t want to get into any trouble.”

  “You don’t want to get into any trouble? You’re bringing me a gun which is most likely the murder weapon and you won’t tell me how you found it and you don’t want to get into any trouble?”

  “I’m glad you understand the situation.”

  A vein was bulging in Chief Harper’s forehead. “I don’t understand the situation. I was trying to ridicule the idea that I understood the situation.”

  “That’s a little harsh on you, Chief. You’re usually very good at understanding.”

  “Cora, so help me, I will come over the desk and strangle you.”

  “A very inadvisable move, Chief. I can’t see any way that would play well on TV.”

  “Just what do you think you’re doing?”

  “I’m trying to fulfill my civic duty by placing in your hands the evidence that your investigation should have. I mean to cooperate with you in every way.”

  Chief Harper picked up the plastic Ziploc bag in which Cora had delivered the gun. “If this turns out to be the murder weapon, and there is every indication it will, then you had in your possession the very gun used to kill a key witness against you in your trial.”

  “It’s not a trial, Chief. Just an alimony hearing.”

  “I don’t care if it’s a clambake. The witness was shot dead. There’s the gun. You had it. You won’t explain. You expect me to be happy?”

  Cora put up her hand. “To be fair, Chief, I do not expect you to be happy. Even though I’ve done you a big favor by bringing you the gun.”

  “Just what do you expect me to do with it?”

  “Well, I’m not the chief of police, but if I were you, I would run it down to the lab in Danbury and see if it matches up with the fatal bullet.”

  “Yeah, great.” Harper mopped his brow. “The public and the media are screaming for blood. The prosecutor’s needling me to make an arrest. And all I’ve got is you.”

  “Whoa. Nasty situation. I suppose I should call my lawyer.”

  “You don’t need a lawyer.”

  “What is that, Chief, a reverse Miranda warning? ‘You have the right to keep talking and not hire an attorney?’ Ratface is going to love you for that.”

  “That’s not what I mean and you know it.”

  “Even so, I think I wanna speak to my lawyer. I do get one phone call, don’t I?”

  Chief Harper sat seething while Cora dialed the phone.

  “Becky, Cora. I’m in the police station surrendering what looks like the murder weapon, and the police aren’t happy with my answers to their questions. Wanna swing by?… Okay, thanks.” Cora hung up the phone. “She told me to shut up, she’ll be right over.”

  “Great.”

  Becky’s office was just around the corner. She made it in two minutes flat.

  “You stop to put on your lipstick?” Cora said.

  “I’d like to talk to my client alone and in private.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Harper said.

  “Apparently it will. If I understand the situation, my client has brought you a key piece of evidence, in return for which she has been subjected to a grueling cross-examination. Under the circumstances, I’m advising my client to make no statement until I’ve had a chance to confer with her.”

  “The grueling cross-examination consisted of me asking her where she got the gun.”

  “Potato, potato,” Becky said. “Come on, Cora, let’s have a little chat.”

  Harper gave the women a disgusted look, went out, and closed the door.

  Once they were alone, Becky said, “What gives?”

  Cora gave Becky a rundown of the situation.

  “The evidence points to Melvin?” Becky said.

  “He got what appears to be a blackmail note.”

  “How is that a blackmail note?”

  “It points to the gun.”

  “The gun was next door.”

  “Exactly. Because the blackmail note doesn’t say where he has the gun. It says where he ditched it.”

  Becky frowned. “That’s pretty far-fetched.”

  “No fair. Anytime you mix a crossword puzzle and a KenKen in with a murder, it’s bound to be far-fetched.”

  “It still has to make sense on its own level.”

  “I know,” Cora said. “And this doesn’t. It doesn’t make any sense at all. And you know what that means. The police will ignore all subtleties and go straight for the obvious. They’ll wind up arresting Melvin.”

  “So?”

  “And you can’t represent him.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you’re representing me.”

  “Oh, for goodness’ sakes.”

  “What?”

  “So that’s your plan. To hold out on the police so they’ll hassle you, so I’ll have to represent you, so I’ll be tied up and I can’t represent him.”

  “You have a keen legal mind.”

  “What makes you think I’d represent him in the first place?”

  “You’re an attorney. A professional bottom-dweller. You’ll represent anybody.”

  “That isn’t true.”

  “You represented Dennis.”

  “That’s different.”

  “How is that different?”

  “I wasn’t representing Sherry.”

  “Then it’s a good thing you’re representing me.”

  “I was already representing you.”

  “Not for the murder.”

  “Are you really afraid Melvin is going to get charged with murder and try to hire me?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What if he did? What’s the worst that can happen?”

  “The worst that can happen is he marries you and ruins your life.”

  “He’s already married.”

  “That’s never stopped him before.”

  “Okay. Say I represent him for murder. What’s the second worst thing that can happen?”

  “You get him off.”

  Chapter

  34

  “So,” Becky said, “my client would like to make a statement.”

  “I can’t wait.”

  “My client is making a statement voluntarily and of her own free will. Purely because she wishes to aid the police in their investigation.”

  “She’s a saint,” Harper said. “Get on with it.”

  “She is making it with the understanding that there will be no attempt to prosecute her or hold her liable in any way for failing to make a statement earlier. She merely wished, as is her right, to have a chance to confer with her attorney.”

  “Even though she’s done nothing wrong,” Chief Harper said ironically.

  “That goes without saying. But since you’ve said it, let’s reiterate it. My client is blameless for any initial reluctance to share the rather bizarre circumstances surrounding the finding of this gun.”

  “Granted. What are the circumstances?”

  Cora produced the crossword puzzle and the KenKen.

  Harper looked them over. “So?”

  “That’s what led me to the gun.”

  “How in the name of heaven does that lead you to the gun?”

  “My client will explain if you’ll let her. I can’t promise you’re going to like the explanation.”

  “I’m sure I won’t like the explanation. What is it?”

  Cora explained how the crossword puzzle suggested the numbers in the KenKen be added. “Since the numbers in the solution would always add up to the same thing, we tried adding the numbers in the problem.”

  “The what?” Harper said.

  Cora explained adding the numbers and getting 106. “Since that wasn’t particularly helpful, I looked around to see if there was any other hint in the puzzle. I found the word main. So I figured the answe
r was one oh six Main Street.”

  “The mailbox was one oh six North Street.”

  “One oh six North Main Street.”

  “It’s just North Street. How in the world did you wind up at one oh six North Street?”

  “Because there wasn’t any one oh six Main Street. So I turned around and went out of town in the other direction until I hit one oh six. You say that’s one oh six North. To me it’s one oh six Main. Anyway, here’s the gun.”

  Harper frowned. “I don’t like it.”

  “I hate it like hell. But it’s my civic duty, so here it is.”

  “All right. Where’d you get the puzzles?”

  Cora grimaced. “Now we get into hearsay evidence, which I know you don’t want.”

  “Now we get into locking up the witness until she cooperates, which I know you don’t want.”

  “Was that a threat?” Becky said. “I certainly hope that wasn’t a threat.”

  “Oh, come on. My nerves are frayed. Drop the legal mumbo jumbo and tell me what happened. Where’d you get the puzzles?”

  “They were given to me,” Cora said. “That’s why it’s hearsay.”

  “It’s not hearsay who gave them to you. Who was it?”

  “Melvin’s wife.”

  “You’re kidding!”

  “See,” Cora said. “You tell the truth, and all you get is skepticism and disbelief. Melvin’s wife came to me very upset. Someone had put these puzzles in an envelope and slipped them under the motel room door.”

  “She brought them to you?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did your ex-husband have to say about that?”

  “He didn’t know.”

  “Why not?”

  “Now,” Cora said, “this is where you’re getting into hearsay and speculation. I only know what she told me, and I can’t vouch for any of it. But according to Melvin’s wife, he was in bed passed out. She didn’t know what to do, she panicked, and brought it to me.”

  “Without telling Melvin?”

  “She knew he wouldn’t let her. He’s my ex-husband. He’s suing me in court. He wouldn’t let her come near me.”

  “But she did anyway.”

  “She wanted to know what the puzzles meant. After all, someone is dead.”

  “And through the most convoluted logic possible, this led you to a gun. Why in the world is Melvin connected to the gun?”