The Puzzle Lady vs. the Sudoku Lady
Page 1
Table of Contents
Title Page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
DUELING DETECTIVES: THE SUDOKU LADY VS. THE PUZZLE LADY
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
The Perpetrators
Also by Parnell Hall
Copyright Page
For Ruth,
who suggested The Sudoku Lady
Chapter 1
“You don’t have to go.”
“Oh, yes I do,” Cora said. “You’re young, you’re in love, you just got married. You’re setting up your home. You don’t need some spinster aunt in the spare room cramping your style.”
Sherry smiled. “I don’t think a woman who’s been married five or six times qualifies as a spinster.”
“I don’t care what you call me, the fact is I’m a drag. I gotta get out of here.”
“Cora. Aaron’s been living here the last six months. Nothing’s changed just because we said ‘I do.’”
“Are you kidding me? Everything changes when you say ‘I do.’ You stop making allowances, treating each other nice, ignoring each other’s faults, forgiving each other’s sins. Good lord, girl, what’s the point of getting him hooked if you’re not going to reel him in?”
Sherry smiled. “You’re not that cynical. You’re talking tough right now because you’re not in love. Just let a handsome man come around, you’ll melt like butter.”
After a long courtship, Sherry Carter had finally tied the knot with young reporter Aaron Grant. The newlyweds were back from their honeymoon, and Cora Felton had brought up her avowed intention of moving out. The prefab ranch house Cora shared with her niece in Bakerhaven, Connecticut, was small, to say the least, particularly since they’d converted the third bedroom into an office.
“You haven’t thought this through.”
Cora winced. “I hate that expression. It’s a euphemism for ‘You’re a dotty old lady with the brains of a tree stump.’”
“That isn’t what I said.”
“Of course, it isn’t. That’s what euphemism means. I don’t have to tell you. You’re the wordsmith.”
Which she was. Sherry Carter was a brilliant crossword puzzle constructor, whose puzzles appeared daily in a nationally syndicated column. Only no one knew it. At the time Sherry came up with the idea, she was keeping a low profile on account of her obsessive and abusive ex-husband. So she put her aunt’s name on the column. Which worked like a charm. No one observing Cora Felton’s benign, grandmotherly face, with twinkling eyes and beatific smile, could ever suspect that the amiable fraud couldn’t solve a crossword puzzle with a gun to her head.
“You’re the Puzzle Lady. When people ask you to solve a puzzle, what are you going to tell them?”
“I’m on vacation.”
“Permanent vacation? Are you never going to solve a puzzle again?”
“Works for me.”
“What if someone brings you a crossword puzzle involved in a crime?”
“Don’t be silly.”
“Why is that silly?”
“That isn’t going to happen.”
“It happens all the time. You can’t turn around without someone knocking on the door wanting you to solve a puzzle found at the scene of a murder.”
Cora smiled, spread her hands. “Exactly. I have used up my quota. The law of averages says it won’t happen again.”
“The law of averages doesn’t apply.”
“No?”
“Of course not. We’re flipping a coin. Each time we flip it, it’s as likely to come up heads as it is tails. Isn’t that right?”
“Of course.”
“Even if it’s come up heads ten times in a row?”
“Huh?”
“Say I flip a coin. It comes up heads ten times in a row. Now I flip it again. Is it more likely to come up heads or tails?”
“Sherry, you’re my niece and I love you. But if you torture me with logic, I’m going to tie that supple body of yours in a knot.”
“You’re good at logic.”
“Human logic. Practical puzzles. Not this theoretical crap.”
“The point is, you can’t function without me.”
“Give me a break. You went off on your honeymoon; I did just fine.”
“You text-messaged me in Africa. You sent me a puzzle as an attached file.”
“Aren’t you proud of me for knowing how to do that?”
“I left you instructions a child could follow.”
“Exactly. Kids are much better at computers than grown-ups. I think I did remarkably well.”
“I give up. If you want to leave, I can’t stop you. But, please, don’t think Aaron and I are driving you away.”
The kitchen phone rang.
Sherry scooped the receiver off the wall. “Hello?” Her face hardened. “You have to stop calling,” she said, and hung up.
“Dennis?” Cora asked.
Sherry frowned. “I’m going to have to get caller ID.”
“That guy is seriously sick.”
“I’d hoped my getting married would give him a hint. It seems to have just ticked him off.”
“Good thing you’ve got a restraining order.”
“Yeah, like that’s going to stop him. Particularly when he’s drunk. It’s not good. Aaron’s gone all day. I’m helpless here.”
“I could teach you how to shoot.”
“I don’t want to shoot him. I just want to be left alone.”
“That’s why I’m moving out.”
The phone rang again.
Sherry looked at it in exasperation.
“I’ve got it this time,” Cora said. She snatched the phone off the hook and snarled “Yes.”
A rather disconcerted voice on the other end said, “Cora Felton?”
Cora rolled her eyes for her niece’s benefit, said, “This is she.”
“The Puzzle Lady?”
Cora managed not to groan. “That’s right.”
“This is your agent. Sebastian Billingham.”
Cora reacted as if the phone were hot. Her agent was, of course, Sherry’s agent. He handled the Puzzle Lady books Sherry published under Cora’s name. Next to Dennis, Cora couldn’t think of a person she cared less to talk to. Including Dennis, actually. Cora would get a kick out of bawling out Dennis.
“Oh, yes, Mr. Billingham. You want to talk to my personal assistant, She
rry Carter. She handles all my business affairs.”
Cora tossed the phone to Sherry and skipped out of reach before Sherry could hand it back.
Sherry looked at her aunt in exasperation, placed the phone to her ear. “This is Sherry Carter. How may I help you? … Uh huh … Uh huh … That’s good.”
Cora beamed.
Sherry frowned. “That’s not good? Why is that not good?”
Cora shot Sherry a glance as if to say, Can’t you do anything right?
“Uh huh … Uh huh … Uh huh,” Sherry said.
Cora found this less than illuminating. She spread her arms, made a face like Huh?
“Today?” Sherry said. “Well, you might have given us a little notice … What do you mean, you just found out? … I understand you’re not her agent.”
Cora’s mouth fell open. She tugged at Sherry’s shirt, hissed, “What do you mean, he’s not my agent?”
Sherry batted her hands away. “Trust me, you don’t want to tell her yourself.”
“Tell me what?” Cora demanded.
“Thank you very much. Okay. Good-bye.”
Sherry hung up the phone and turned to face her aunt.
Cora cocked her head. “What do you call it when you kill your niece? I know it’s matricide when you kill your mother. For that matter, what do you call it when you kill your agent?”
“It’s not his fault. He just found out and called to warn us.”
“About what?”
“Minami is coming.”
“Who?”
“Minami.”
“Who the hell is that?”
“The Sudoku Lady.”
Chapter 2
Cora sucked on a cigarette as if she needed every last gram of nicotine. She blew smoke out of her nose and mouth. It was a wonder it wasn’t coming out of her ears.
“So, some woman I never met, laid eyes on, or even heard of, is challenging me to a duel?”
“Not exactly.”
“How not exactly?”
“Okay. Here’s the situation. You have the number-one best-selling sudoku book in Japan. Which is great, except Minami has the number-two best-selling sudoku book in Japan. Last week she was number one. And the week before that. And the week before that. And the week before that. A foreigner comes along and knocks her book down to number two.”
“I’d like to knock her down to number two.”
“Cora.”
“Go on.”
“According to Sebastian Billingham—”
“Who?”
“Your agent.”
“Oh.”
“According to him, you brought shame and dishonor on her and all her family, and she cannot rest until she’s been avenged.”
“You’re kidding!”
“Yes, I am. The woman is not really challenging you to sudoku at forty paces.”
“Too bad. I bet I could take her.”
Cora was surprisingly good at sudoku. She was a klutz at word problems, but at number problems she was a whiz.
“You don’t have to take her. You just have to sit down and be civil.”
“Why?”
“Am I a mind reader? You want me to psychoanalyze, sight unseen, the motivations of a Japanese sudoku constructor?”
There came the sound of tires in the driveway.
“Oh, my God, she’s here! Cora, you’re not dressed!”
“What do you mean I’m not dressed?”
Cora was wearing her Wicked Witch of the West outfit, a loose-fitting smock with food stains and cigarette burns and dangling threads and small tears.
“You can’t meet her like that. I’ll stall her. You go change.”
“I’m not kowtowing to any Japanese diva.”
“Wrong attitude! For any number of reasons.” Sherry herded her aunt out of the kitchen. “Just throw something on.”
Muttering to herself, Cora padded down the hall to her bedroom, pulled the Wicked Witch of the West smock up over her head. She was not dressing up for the woman. Her standard Miss Marplewear, a tweed skirt and jacket, would do perfectly well.
Even if the skirt was a little tight. Which was why Cora was wearing the free-flowing smock. Was it time to start dieting again? Not without a man in the picture. What was the point? Sweets were no substitute for a suitor, but the thought of doing without either was more than one could bear.
Cora snapped her skirt, pulled on the matching tweed jacket. She could hear Sherry opening the front door. Cora steeled herself, went out to meet her visitor.
It was Chief Harper.
Chapter 3
The Bakerhaven chief of police was obviously ill at ease. Which was odd, since he and Cora Felton had worked together often enough to have developed an ongoing comaraderie, if not a mutual respect. Cora hadn’t seen him this uncomfortable since the time he’d had to arrest her for murder.
“Hi, Chief. What’s up?”
“Hi, Cora.”
“Well, don’t stand in the doorway. Sherry, aren’t you going to ask him in?”
“I can’t stay,” Harper said. “There’s been a murder.”
“Really?” Cora’s interest perked up immediately.
“Yeah. Mrs. Fielding, out on Kingston Road.”
“Ida?”
“You know her?”
“It’s a small town, Chief. I don’t know her well, but I’ve seen her in the bakeshop. If it’s the same one I’m thinking of.”
“Little woman, curly hair.”
“That’s her. How’d she die?”
“Fell in a fireplace, banged her head on an andiron.”
“And that’s murder?”
“It would seem to be accidental. But a few things don’t add up.”
“Such as?”
“If she fell on an andiron, why did it bash in the top of her head? I don’t mean the top of her head; I mean the side that was up.”
“She couldn’t have bounced?”
“Bounced? On an andiron?”
“You know what I mean. She fell on an andiron, rolled off, lay on her side, and expired.”
“I suppose she could have. And probably did.”
“Come on, Chief, what makes you think this was a crime?”
“Well …”
“Is there a crossword puzzle involved?”
“No.”
“A sudoku?”
“No.”
“An acrostic? A cryptogram? Anything like that?”
“No. No puzzle at all. She probably just fell. But I can’t help thinking, what if it’s murder?”
“Ten to one it’s a domestic thing. Why don’t you lock up her husband?”
“I did.”
“So?”
Harper grimaced. “Unfortunately, I locked him up the night before. Drunk and disorderly. Bar fight down at Benny’s. He was in jail all night.”
Cora nodded. “Which he would naturally do if he was giving himself an alibi. The minute he realized he’d killed her, he went out and got in a bar fight and got thrown in jail.”
“Not according to Barney Nathan. His preliminary estimate of the time of death is between eleven o’clock and two A.M. We locked hubby up around ten forty-five.”
“That doesn’t sound very promising.”
“No, it doesn’t.” Harper scratched his head. He seemed to be trying to think of what to say next.
Cora smiled. “Tell me, Chief, if there’s no puzzle involved, why are you here?”
“Oh.”
“You have some ulterior motive, don’t you? You’ve been acting like a shoplifter ever since you came in the door.”
“Shoplifter?”
“Spill it.”
Chief Harper exhaled. “Oh, for God’s sake, I’m the chief of police. It’s my job to solve crimes. It’s your job to write crossword puzzles.”
Cora didn’t correct the chief on that point. “So?”
“This crime doesn’t have one. There’s absolutely no reason for me to be here. If anyone knew I was talking to
you about this case, they’d want to know why.”
“Why are you talking to me about this case?”
“Because you’re good at it. That’s what I don’t get. Why are people so quick to dismiss your theories when you’re right so much of the time?”
“I’ve wondered that myself.”
“Let’s not go overboard. The fact is, you’re intuitive and perceptive when it comes to analyzing clues.”
“Careful, Chief, I’ll get a swelled head.”
“Anyway, the husband’s still in jail, and the body’s in the morgue.”
Cora squinted at him. “You want me to take a look at the scene of the crime?”
“If you wouldn’t mind.”
“Thought you’d never ask.”
Chapter 4
Michiko piloted the car around the curve, tugged at her sleeve. “I hate this damn kimono.”
Minami stuck her chin in the air, looked across at her niece. “Do not say ‘damn.’”
“It is more polite than some things I might say. Why did you bring me here?”
“You know why.”
“I know why we travel together. I do not know why we are here.”
“I must see this woman for myself,” Minami said.
“Why? Why does it matter? She has a sudoku book. You have a sudoku book. You have many sudoku books.”
“What if she writes another?”
“Then you are ready,” Michiko said, impatiently. She pouted.
“Why can’t we go to the mall?”
“We went to the mall.”
“But you did not let me buy the pants.”
“Those pants had no front.”
“What?”
“And no back.”
“That is the style.”
“The waist was around your ankles. It is not decent.”
“That is what the girls are wearing.”
“That is not what the girls are wearing. That is what the boys wish the girls were wearing.”
“Don’t you want the boys to like me?”
“You are only sixteen.”
“I am going to be seventeen.”
“Your birthday was last month.”
“And what did I get? A silk kimono!”
“You look very good.”
“I look like a silkscreen painting. I want to look like a girl.”
“We come in peace and friendship.”
“Yeah, right.”
“‘Yeah, right’? That sounds rude. Is that American? ‘Yeah, right’?”