by Parnell Hall
“You read the file?”
Cora took a breath. “Of course I read the file. You bought some chairs. You reported them stolen. From the barn out back. Under interrogation, you admitted you might have left the door open.”
Wilbur dismissed that with a brief, exceptionally pungent comment.
“You didn’t admit you might have left the door open?”
“If you knew that, when I broke the window, why’d you ask me if that was how the robber got in?”
So. The guy was sharper than she’d thought. “Why are the chairs important?” Cora asked.
“What?”
“Are these valuable chairs? How much did you pay for them?”
“Isn’t it in the file?”
“Is the file accurate?”
“You first.”
Cora flipped open the file. “It says you bought the chairs for fifty bucks apiece, but you claim they’re worth closer to a hundred.”
“They are.”
“Is that why you bought them? Because they were cheap?”
“Sure.”
“You were looking to make a profit on the chairs?”
Wilbur said nothing.
“That’s a hundred percent profit. If you sell ’em at a hundred bucks apiece. You report the loss to your insurance company?”
“What’s that got to do with it?”
“I assume you want to get your money back. Of course, you couldn’t get a hundred bucks a chair.”
“What the hell are you talking about? I don’t want the damn money. I want my chairs.”
“I understand. How’s that working out for you so far?”
Wilbur opened his mouth to retort, closed it again. Tugged at the sleeves of his sweater. Peered at her with crafty eyes. “Okay, lady. You wanna help, I’m glad to have you. Not that I’m letting Harper off the hook. It’s a police matter, and you ain’t police. If Harper thinks sending you out here takes care of it, he’s dead wrong. Now, do I gotta tell him that in person, or will you communicate it to him?”
“I can promise you it will come up in conversation.”
Cora had the impression she might have detected a smile at the corner of Wilbur’s mouth.
“All right, lady. Find my chairs.”
“How?”
“You’re the detective. You tell me.”
“Let’s look at the scene of the crime.”
“Why?”
“That’s how crimes are solved.”
“Not this time. I had chairs. They’re gone.”
“Can I see where they were?”
“Not gonna help you much.”
“So whaddya expect me to do?”
“Find them.”
“With nothing to go on?”
“There’s a picture in the file.”
“You took a picture of the chairs?”
“No. It was in the auction catalogue.”
Cora pulled out the photo of a chair. It was a wooden straight-back chair, with curved arms and a woven seat. It looked decidedly uncomfortable. Cora wouldn’t have given ten bucks for it, let alone fifty. “They all look like this?”
“More or less. Some needed repair.”
“But they all went for fifty bucks?”
“It was a single lot. They all went together.”
“All right. You bought ’em at auction. You brought ’em home, you locked ’em in the barn.”
“That’s right.”
“When was the next time you looked for ’em?”
“It was a while.”
“Why?”
“I was busy. I bought ’em to sell.”
“Did you put ’em on the market?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“They needed work. I didn’t get around to it.”
“And then you did. The chairs were gone. There was no sign of a break-in. You reported this to the police.”
“That’s right.”
“Who would have wanted to steal your chairs?”
He shrugged. “I dunno. Antiques dealer.”
“Why would an antiques dealer take those chairs and leave everything else?”
“I have no idea.”
“You have any enemies? Anyone out to get you? Any rival like to see you fail?”
“Don’t be silly.”
“Why is that silly?”
“I fail because of a few chairs?”
“That was a generalization. How about it? Anyone you got a blood feud with looking to give you trouble?”
“No.”
“The chairs were stolen when?”
“It’s in the file.”
“Yes, it is.” Cora consulted the file. “About a year ago.” She snapped the file shut. “Okay. Thanks for your time.”
“You giving up?”
Cora smiled her trademark Puzzle Lady smile, though she doubted if Wilbur would recognize it. “Not at all,” she told him.
HARVEY BEERBAUM COULDN’T believe his good fortune. Cora Felton hadn’t been at his house in months, and never alone. The last time was when he threw a garden party for the selectmen. Cora wasn’t a selectman, but Iris Cooper had suggested she come. Cora had been suspicious that Harvey had pressured the First Selectman to ask her. He had, but Iris didn’t let on. At least, not officially. Not in front of him. Now that he recalled, the two ladies had spent a good deal of the party giggling in the azaleas.
Harvey’s house befitted the portly cruciverbalist. The walls were hung with crossword puzzle momentos. A framed copy of the first puzzle he’d ever had published in the New York Times. A third-place trophy he’d taken in the nationals—he’d have won it, too, if he hadn’t written an E for an A, a simple-enough mistake when one is solving a difficult Saturday puzzle in front of three hundred people with the knowledge that at any moment one of the other two finalists may shout, “Done!” and all will be lost.
Hanging from the ceiling was a huge crossword puzzle grid. Not the one he’d missed, but the one created by ace constructor Merl Reagle for a charity event, and then auctioned off to the highest bidder. Merl had signed it, too, in magic marker, making it well worth the two hundred dollars he had spent for it.
Harvey, thrilled by the company, fluttered about like a mother hen.
“It will only be a minute. The tea, I mean. I love the gas stove. So much faster than electric. Then we’ll have our tea. I wish I had some scones. If I’d known you were coming, I’d have picked some up at Cushman’s. So nice of you to drop in, of course.”
“It’s all right, Harvey. You didn’t even need to make tea.”
“Oh, but I did. I’d be a poor host not to offer refreshment of some kind. Now that you’ve stopped drinking—” Harvey broke off, flushed. “Do forgive me. I’m somewhat flustered. I don’t know what came over me. I would never make any assumptions of the kind. And I wouldn’t want you to think people were talking about you. Of course they haven’t been talking about you. Well, they have, but only in terms of your notoriety. I don’t mean notoriety, I mean fame.”
Cora, watching the little man prance back and forth from the couch where she sat to the stove where the watched pot never boiled, was rapidly losing patience. “Harvey, sit down. You’re driving me nuts. When the teapot whistles, you can get it.”
“It’s not the whistling kind.”
“I am. I’ll see it boiling, and I’ll whistle. Now sit.”
No golden retriever ever obeyed a command so quickly. Harvey perched on the edge of a chair, a bundle of nervous energy. “It’s not a teapot, of course. It’s a kettle. Not that I should be telling you words. Still—”
Even the hint of a discussion of syntax was more than Cora could bear. “Harvey, let me get right to the point. I happen to need your help.”
Harvey’s jaw descended to the vicinity of his navel. “You need my help? That’ll be the day. You do five puzzles a week, fifty-two weeks a year. You construct in your sleep. How could you possibly need my help?”
“Your water’s boiling,” Cora t
old him. “Would you like me to whistle?”
Harvey hopped to the stove, filled two teacups with hot water, brought the tray to the coffee table. On the tray was a wooden box with Heinz 57 varieties of tea.
“Which kind would you like? I’ve got Lemon Zinger, Earl Grey, camomile, Sleepytime—”
“Tea’s tea,” Cora told him. “You could give me ground oak leaves, I wouldn’t know the difference. Harvey, I need a favor.”
“Of course, of course. What do you need?”
“I want you to sell something for me.”
Harvey stopped dipping his tea bag in his cup. “I beg your pardon?”
Cora wondered vaguely what kind of tea it was. “On eBay, Harvey. I’d like you to sell something on eBay.”
“For you?”
“Yes, for me.”
“I don’t understand.”
Cora rolled her eyes. Of course he didn’t. It was too easy. There was nothing to wrap his torturous mind around.
“It’s perfectly simple, Harvey. You’re a registered seller on eBay. You have an account.”
“How do you know that?”
“It’s not a secret, Harvey. When you put something up for bids on eBay, it’s rather public.”
“You shop on eBay?”
“Ah. A meeting of the minds. Yes, Harvey. I buy things on eBay.”
“You’ve never bought anything of mine.”
“No, I haven’t,” Cora admitted. “But I’ve seen your offerings.” She repressed a shudder at the thought of the crossword puzzle cuckoo clock Harvey once had up for bids.
“And you have something you want to sell?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
Harvey frowned. “What do you mean, in a manner of speaking?”
“Well, I don’t want to sell it. I want someone to sell it for me. I’ve never sold anything on eBay. I don’t have an account. But you do. So, if you could sell the item for me, I’d really appreciate it.”
“What is the item?”
“A chair.”
“What kind of chair?”
“A rattan wicker-back chair. With wooden arms.”
“Oh. Like mine?”
Cora followed his gaze to the corner of the room where a square wooden table sat framed by four meticulously placed rattan chairs. It would have been a perfect bridge table, if Harvey only played.
“Mine’s a different style. Not that it matters.”
“Do you have it in the car?”
“No, but I have a picture of it.”
Cora dug into her drawstring purse, handed over the picture of the chair.
“I see,” Harvey said. “So, you’d like me to advertise this: ‘Rattan chair, owned by the Puzzle Lady—
Cora put up her hand. “No, no. Don’t mention me. I have nothing to do with it. It’s just a chair. You’re selling a chair. Four chairs, actually.”
“Four chairs?”
“Yes.”
“How much do you expect to get for them?”
“I have no idea. It will be interesting to see how they go.”
“How much would you want for an opening bid?”
“I don’t know. Twenty bucks apiece.”
“That’s all?”
“Well, I wouldn’t want to scare anyone off.”
“I understand. But that’s an inconveniently sized item to sell so cheap.”
“What’s inconvenient about it? You just scan the picture.”
“I mean in terms of shipping. It’s hard to move an item when the shipping cost exceeds the purchase price. It makes people reluctant to bid.”
“Well, we don’t want to do that. How about shipping cost included?”
Harvey’s eyes widened. “Are you crazy? If they go for the floor bid, you’ll wind up losing money.”
Cora sipped her tea. She’d chosen her tea bag at random, was surprised to find it had an orange flavor and wasn’t all that bad. “So what? It’s not your money.”
“No, but I’d hate to see you get taken.”
Cora smiled, patted his face. “You worry too much, Harvey.”
Harvey looked at her searchingly. “You’ve got something up your sleeve, haven’t you? Come on, Cora. It’s me. Harvey. Level with me. What’s this all about?”
SHERRY LOOKED UP from the computer. “Cora, have you lost your mind?”
Cora shrugged. “Well, no more than usual.”
“You have Harvey Beerbaum selling phony chairs for you?”
“They’re not phony. They don’t exist.”
“Exactly.”
“No, not exactly. Doesn’t something have to exist to be phony? I mean, you’re the wordsmith here. How can you have a phony nothing at all?”
“Cora, I’m not in the mood.”
“Marital troubles again? Amazing how you can have them when you’re not even married. Of course, I always did. But Aaron’s not married either.”
“The fact is, you’ve got Harvey involved in something you shouldn’t have. I’m surprised he was willing to do it.”
“He likes me.”
“That makes it ten times worse. You seduced him into doing something he shouldn’t.”
“I didn’t seduce him.”
“Oh, no?”
“Oh, yes. Trust me, I know when I’ve seduced someone.” Cora shrugged. “At least, since I quit drinking.”
“Was Harvey happy to do it?”
“He got a little snarky when he found out there weren’t any chairs.”
“Yeah, I would imagine he did. You could ruin his rating.”
“What rating?”
“Come on, Cora. You buy on eBay. You check the seller’s performance rating. The evaluation he got from his customers. What do you suppose it will be when he gets a reputation for fraud?”
“Reputation, schmeputation,” Cora said. “He was actually kind of amused when I told him my plan.”
“What’s your plan?”
“Well, it all goes back to the Kleinsmidt inheritance.”
“The what?”
“The eight Kleinsmidt heirs. They inherited a ten-million-dollar estate, share and share alike. Each heir got a million bucks. Two million was never found. It was rumored to be in diamonds. The famous Kleinsmidt diamonds.”
“Cora!”
“The will was read in the Kleinsmidt dining room. At a table with eight rattan chairs. Each heir was entitled to one, but they didn’t take them, and the chairs were sold with the estate. It was twenty years later be- fore anyone suspected the diamonds were hidden in the chairs.”
“You told Harvey that?”
“Well, I had to tell him something.”
“Is there such a person as Kleinsmidt?”
“I’m sure there’s one somewhere.”
“I mean a Kleinsmidt heir.”
Cora spread her arms. “I have no idea what any Kleinsmidt, living or dead, may have inherited.”
“So, you not only got Harvey to hold a fraudulent auction on eBay, you did it by telling him an outrageous lie.”
“Well, I couldn’t tell him the truth. I don’t know the truth. All I know is some guy wants his chairs back. The Kleinsmidt diamonds are as good a reason as any.”
“The Kleinsmidt diamonds don’t exist.”
“Neither do the chairs.”
Sherry took a breath. “Cora, I’m not going to argue with you. You know why? Because this has absolutely nothing to do with me. You and Harvey worked this out on your own. All the e-mail is going to go to Harvey. Harvey is the one who is going to go to jail. You’re the one who is going to be accountable.”
Cora patted her niece on the cheek. “You worry too much, Sherry. If I went to jail every time I told an outrageous lie I’d have never had time to get married.”
“Most lies aren’t illegal.”
“Well, they should be. When I think of the whoppers Henry told me—” Cora broke off, looked at Sherry searchingly. “Is that your problem with Aaron? Has he been telling lies?”
“Of course not.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“There’s no problem.”
“Right, right. You’re just enjoying a young lady’s prerogative of behaving like a peevish nitwit. Well, I’m certainly glad there’s no problem, because I need a favor.”
“Oh?”
“If you wouldn’t mind.”
“Does this have anything to do with chairs and eBay?”
“It’s legal, it’s simple, it’s right up your alley.”
“Why do I want to say no?”
“Your contrary nature?”
“No, your devious one. Whenever you get so conciliatory, Cora, I smell a rat.”
“Bite me. All I want is a crossword puzzle.”
“What?”
Cora explained about the young mother bashing in her husband’s car.
“You want me to write a crossword puzzle to soften up her husband?”
“Well, I can’t do it.”
“That’s not the point. The woman’s been deceiving her husband and you want to help her out?”
“I want to help her confess.”
“You want to make it all better? Why does this woman deserve your help? Why does she need your help? She’s afraid to tell her husband she smacked up the car?”
“I don’t think he’d beat her.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Me either. It’s just a young airhead mother, trying to make everything hunky-dory.”
“I understand. What I don’t understand is why you ever agreed to such a thing.”
“She came off like she was having an affair.
Naturally, I wanted to help. The car bash was a kick in the teeth.”
“You were going to help this woman have an affair?”
“Of course not. But I wanted to hear about it. My own sex life is virtually nonexistent.”
“Is that why you’re flirting with Harvey Beerbaum?”
“Will you knock it off about Harvey Beerbaum! I’m trying to solve a robbery. I also got finessed into writing a crossword puzzle. Which I’m not capable of doing. You wanna help me out? Or you want me to just fess up I’m not really the Puzzle Lady?”
“Not with the rent coming due.”
“Okay, so whip me up a puzzle. It doesn’t have to be great, it just has to get me off the hook with Reckless Stroller Mom.”
“Have you learned your lesson? About promising things you can’t deliver?”
