by Parnell Hall
“You didn’t have that either? Wow, it’s great to be ahead of everybody. Except Dennis, of course.”
“What?”
“Yeah. Good news. He’s not poking around Sherry. He’s poking around the crime.”
“Who’s the witness?”
“Promise you won’t write it?”
“Write it? It sounds like fifth-hand information. Damn it, what’s Dennis still doing in town?”
“Talk to his lawyer. On second thought, that’s not such a good idea either. Anyway, I’d like to know if Dennis tipped our Japanese friend off. That’s assuming he didn’t follow her in the first place. Which I would not like at all, because it would mean she was ahead of me. Bad enough it’s just Dennis.”
Aaron looked at her suspiciously. “You’re always keeping me away from Dennis. Now you’re throwing him in my face. Why?”
“No reason. But you might pay me back for the heads-up.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’d kind of like to know if Sudoku-face is being interviewed or going through the files on Mrs. Fielding’s lover.”
“Did you follow her here? Was the whole wanting-to-talk-tome-about-moving-out bit just a ruse?”
“Not at all. It’s a legitimate concern. But as a reporter, aren’t you interested in whether Minami is actually up there doing research?”
Aaron exhaled sharply, turned, and stalked off back to the paper.
He was out in five minutes.
“Well?” Cora said.
“She’s in Freddie’s office. She’s doing the interview. She isn’t going through the files.”
“Oh.”
Aaron cocked his head.
“Her niece is.”
“Really?”
“It doesn’t have to mean anything. She’s probably just a nosy teenager.”
“Yeah, maybe. Where’s Zombie Agent?”
“Sitting in on the interview. I get the impression he’s trying to run things.”
Cora grimaced. “That can’t be good.”
Aaron shrugged. “Come on. How could it possibly matter?”
Chapter 20
DUELING DETECTIVES: THE SUDOKU LADY VS. THE PUZZLE LADY
Underneath the banner headline in the Bakerhaven Gazette were two pictures: Minami in full geisha regalia, and Cora Felton holding up a box of Granville Grains Post Toasties.
The Sudoku Lady versus the Puzzle Lady? It sounds like a comic book, but it might be a reality. Minami, the internationally famous Sudoku Lady, has come all the way from Japan to challenge Cora Felton, Bakerhaven’s own Puzzle Lady, to a duel.
Charming, polite, and respectful, Minami had nothing but kind words for her American counterpart, but her agent, Irving Swartzman, was less reticent. “Minami is not some American ripoff. She’s the real deal. A genuine Japanese Sudoku Lady. Always has been. Always will be. Not some crossword puzzle person who hopped on the sudoku bandwagon when it became hot.”
Harsh words but not without a grain of truth. Cora Felton is admittedly a newcomer to the sudoku game. And why should this matter? The demure Sudoku Lady was reluctant to say, but as Mr. Swartzman pointed out, “Crime is mathematical. A person good with numbers is apt to be good at crime. In her own country Minami is often called in to assist the police. She could do the same here, if they were smart enough to ask her.”
Even without police cooperation, Swartzman insists, the Sudoku Lady could beat the Puzzle Lady hands down. In fact, while he could not talk about it, Mr. Swartzman hinted that the Sudoku Lady might have some opinions about an ongoing investigation. “Mark my words. The Sudoku Lady is going to solve a crime before the Puzzle Lady. And that’s a promise.”
Will the challenge be taken up? Only time will tell.
The Puzzle Lady could not be reached for comment.
Chief Harper lowered the paper and cocked his head at Cora. “Would you care to comment?”
“Bite me.”
“Let me get this straight. This is all because on a given Sunday your book sold more than her book on the Japanese best-seller list?”
“I don’t think you actually sell books on a list. I think it’s the books that are sold that get you on it.”
“You know what I mean. Stop changing the subject. The point is, this woman is making trouble because of you.”
“If you want to look at it that way.”
“How else can I look at it?”
“I would say you’re lucky she didn’t plant a sudoku at the scene of the crime so she could solve it and show you how smart she was.”
“That’s absurd.”
“Is it? How about her body-in-the-freezer theory? Short of mystery books, you’re not going to find that one.”
“That’s different.”
“Why?”
“Well, there’s nothing Japanese about it.”
“There’s nothing Japanese about sudoku, either. They didn’t invent ’em, they just took ’em over.”
“You sound angry.”
“Of course, I’m angry. Here’s this woman stirring up trouble where there’s none, challenging me to prove there’s none. Was there ever anything so unfair? Now I got Dennis sticking his nose in—a coincidental lover that had nothing to do with what is actually an accidental trip-and-fall, but that woman’s going to make a big deal of it.”
“It’s not your problem.”
“Of course it’s my problem. The woman called me out. Am I supposed to get on my high horse, say, ‘Don’t be silly, I don’t wanna play?’”
“That would seem like the thing to do.”
“Yeah, if I want my book sales to plummet in Japan.”
“You’re worried about your book sales?”
“I’m not worried about my book sales. I think it’s unfair that a woman comes halfway around the world to screw with my book sales.”
“This Steve Preston.”
“What about him?”
“You talk to his wife?”
Cora’s eyes widened. “Why do you say that?”
“Well, one theory is he killed Mrs. Fielding to keep her from telling his wife. Another would be his wife found out and killed her rival. Actually a simpler motive.”
“A simple-minded motive. Of a convoluted crime.”
“You just called this a convoluted crime.”
“So?”
“If it’s an accidental death, there’s no crime.”
“So what?”
“So you started thinking of it as a crime.”
“I misspoke.”
“That’s unusual for a wordsmith who contorts words into intricate constructions seldom heard in the annals of English history.”
Cora contorted some words into intricate constructions that George Carlin couldn’t say on TV.
Chief Harper went to the file cabinet, jerked it open, and pulled out a file. “You see this?” He pointed to the word stamped on the side. “C-L-O-S-E-D. CLOSED. This is Mrs. Fielding’s file. It’s closed. It’s got nothing to do with you. You got nothing to do with it.”
“What if Sally Sudoku comes to me with a theory?”
“Take it to Chief Harper. That’s what you tell her. Tell her to bring it to me. You got nothing to do with the case—she should bring it to me.”
“And if she doesn’t like that answer and rips out my heart with a mat knife?”
“I’ll arrest her. Your life will be avenged.”
“Somehow I find that small consolation.”
“Okay, tell her you got a better theory, and then prove it.”
Cora grimaced. “I was afraid you’d say that.”
Chapter 21
Cora knew Sheila Preston. At least she knew her by sight. Sheila Preston was one of the young professional wives who hung out in Cushman’s Bake Shop early in the morning before heading off to their appointed careers. Sheila’s was in marketing. Low-level marketing. Entry-level, actually. She was a cashier at Wal-Mart.
Aaron had once done a feature on Sheila Preston, not on her
specifically but on a group of women’s annual pledge drive for public radio. Cora, who hated pledge drives, had refused to participate, only one in a long line of charitable causes for which her celebrity status had attracted unwelcome solicitations.
Armed with the newspaper clipping for identification, Cora drove out to the mall to accost the young woman on her lunch hour.
She wasn’t there, neither among the cashiers at the registers nor those lunching in the lounge. Cora hunted up the manager, a stocky man with a rather self-satisfied smile.
“Nope, not here.”
“I can see that. Where is she?”
“She got laid off. Almost three weeks now.”
“How come?”
“Not my place to say.”
“You’re the manager. Whose place is it?”
“I mean it wouldn’t be right for me to comment on an employee’s performance.”
“Suppose I was thinking about hiring her?”
“Are you?”
“Let’s say I am?”
“Where and at what?”
“At Kmart.”
“You don’t work for Kmart.”
“What gave me away?”
“If you want to know why she left, why don’t you ask her yourself?”
“I would, but she’s not here. Where is she?”
He shrugged. “If she hasn’t gotten another job, she’s probably home.”
“Where’s home?”
“I’m not at liberty to say.”
“Who is?”
“Beats me.” He shrugged again. “I imagine it’s in the phone book.”
It was. Sheila Preston lived on a pleasant tree-lined street on the edge of town in a two-story wood-frame house on a block of such structures. There was a car parked in the driveway and another car out front, which was good in that she was probably home and bad in that someone was probably with her. Cora pulled up to the curb halfway down the street and cut the motor.
The front door burst open.
A flurry of silk emerged, whirled in multicolored swirls as if doubling back, then glided down the front path to the car, wrenched the door open, hopped in, and took off.
Well, that was interesting. Why was Minami fleeing from Sheila’s house? Why had she turned back? Why had she changed her mind? And what the devil had lit such a fire under her in the first place?
Cora considered her options. One was to chase after Minami and see where she went. The other was to call Chief Harper and tell him what the woman had done.
Yeah, right.
Cora got out of her car, walked down the street to the house, went up on the porch, and rang the bell. She could hear it ring inside the house. It was loud. No way the woman couldn’t hear. But there was no answer.
Cora noticed the front door was open a crack. That must have been why Minami turned back. To close the door. Only she hadn’t. It was clearly open. Unless the lock was off-kilter and there was just an unusual gap.
Cora pushed on the door.
It swung open.
Uh oh.
Cora stuck her head in and called, “Mrs. Preston?”
There was no answer.
Cora slipped through the front door, found herself in a small foyer with a living room off to the left, a kitchen off to the right, and a stairway to the second floor.
Cora went into the living room.
Mrs. Preston lay in the hearth.
Her head had been bashed in, but not by falling on the andiron. She’d been hit with a poker. It lay next to the body.
There was a piece of paper under the poker.
A sudoku.
Chapter 22
Cora whipped out her cell phone and called Chief Harper. “Chief, it’s Cora. I just found Sheila Preston, dead. Come and take charge.”
At least that was the fantasy that raced through her head as she stood there. The chance of it happening was slim. For one thing, Cora didn’t have a cell phone. For another, calling the police, though the right and proper thing to do, was not high on her list of options.
Cora took a quick look around to make sure that in addition to the sudoku there wasn’t any damn crossword puzzle. She found none.
Okay. Good. Now let’s make sense of the scene. Minami comes to interview the woman and …
Panics and runs away?
Nonsense. Why would she do that? She got freaked out by the sudoku? No way. She’s the Sudoku Lady. She expects a sudoku. The killer’s bound to leave her one.
So why hightail it out of there? Why not call the cops? What is it about the sudoku … ?
Cora stopped.
Her mouth fell open.
Minami calls on the woman, finds her dead.
There is no sudoku.
Minami plants a sudoku. To make herself important. To make it appear that the killer is taunting her. To involve herself in the investigation of the crime.
In which case, she doesn’t want to discover the body. She wants someone else to discover the body.
Cora was damned if it was going to be her.
She glanced around. Was there anything she hadn’t noticed? No. Was there anything she’d touched? Just the door. No problem there. She’d have to touch the door. She could leave.
Except …
Was the woman dead?
That was rather major. She should make sure that she’s dead. How could she do that? Give her another whack with the poker? Old joke. Feel her pulse?
Pulse, hell. She’s dead as a doorknob.
The one she touched.
God, she was losing it.
Get out, get out, get out.
Cora came out the front door, hurried down the walk. Saw no one. Slipped into her car.
Okay, now what?
Drive to the police station, get Chief Harper. No. That was as bad as finding the body. Telling him she found the body. Worse. She should have stayed with the body. No, what she needed was someone else to find the body. A neighbor, maybe. Let’s see. How could she motivate a neighbor?
The direct approach. Bang on a neighbor’s door. Say she’d been ringing the doorbell and getting no answer, but the woman had to be there because her car was there, and did the neighbor see her go out? Get the neighbor interested. Talk the neighbor into coming with her. Let the neighbor discover the door was ajar. “How stupid of me, I should have noticed. Do you think we should go in?” Let the neighbor go first, find the body, freak out. Keep the neighbor from touching anything, wrestle her outside, make her go back to her house and call the police.
Cora grimaced. Harper wouldn’t buy it. Harper would know she was pulling a fast one.
Harper would think she planted the damn sudoku.
While Cora was wrestling with her conscience, a black rental car pulled up and stopped in front of the house.
Dennis Pride got out.
Cora’s mouth fell open. Jesus Christ. Someone was coming to find the body. But it was the last person in the world she wanted. What would Dennis do? Call the cops? Not likely. Steal the sudoku? Wipe the poker? Even Dennis wasn’t that crazy. Unless he committed the crime himself, there was no one he’d care enough to protect. Except Sherry. And Sherry had nothing to do with it. Dennis must know that.
Dennis looked up and down the street.
Cora ducked behind the steering wheel. Had he recognized her car? She risked a glance. After all, if he’d seen her, the jig was up.
But he hadn’t. Dennis was on his way up the walk. He reached the front door, rang the bell. Waited a while, rang again.
Uh oh.
Dennis spotted the door.
Pushed it open, slipped inside.
He was back in a minute, as freaked out as Cora had ever seen him. He glanced around, practically sprinted down the walk, hopped in his car, and sped off.
Well, it was a cinch he wasn’t going to call the cops.
Back to square one. Dead body. No witness.
So what now? Should she phone in an anonymous tip?
A car came down the str
eet. What was this—Grand Central Station? If it was someone else calling on Mrs. Preston, Cora was going to lose it.
Sure enough, the car stopped right in front of her house.
Michiko got out, sullen as ever in her T-shirt and jeans. Minami followed and, flapping silk sleeves like a giant moth, herded her teenage niece up the walk and in the front door.
The two women were out moments later, Michiko looking slightly less bored. She whipped a cell phone out of her jeans.
Cora didn’t wait to see who the girl called. She slipped the Toyota into gear and sped off.
A minute and a half later she screeched to a stop in front of the police station.
Chief Harper was coming out the door.
Cora rolled down the window. “Hey, Chief!”
Harper waved her off. “Not now! There’s been another one!”
“Oh?”
Harper hopped in the cruiser and took off. Cora was right behind.
With his lights and siren, Chief Harper made it to Mrs. Preston’s house in just slightly more time than it had taken Cora to come from it.
Minami and Michiko were huddled out front.
“Okay, where is it?” Harper barked.
Minami pointed up the path.
“All right. Officers are on the way. You stay here, don’t talk to anyone until I get back.” As Cora came bustling up, he added, “Particularly her.”
“What happened?” Cora said.
Minami set her lips, raised her chin.
Her niece’s eyes were wide. “There’s a dead woman in there!”
“Michiko!”
“Well, there is.”
“Did you not hear the policeman? He said not to talk.”
“Of course,” Cora said. “And that’s exactly what your lawyer will tell you.”
“Lawyer!” Minami said.
“Yes, of course. Anyone finding a dead body is a natural suspect. Especially when the police have no one else to arrest. They probably don’t. Unless it’s a domestic thing. Who is it—the housewife?” Cora grimaced. “I hate to promote the stereotype. The fact is, there’s a lot of housewives. It’s the first thing you think of. Not the househusband.”
“It’s her.”
“Michiko!”
“Wow. That must be something. You ever see a dead body before?”
