NYPD Puzzle

by Parnell Hall

  “Waiver?”

  “Waiver of false arrest. Any time we have a lawyer in here screaming false arrest, the ADAs like us to have ’em sign ’em.”

  “We’re not signing any waivers of false arrest,” Becky said.

  Crowley nodded, as if that was exactly what he expected. “That’s too bad. You’ll have to go back to the holding cells while I schedule an arraignment. I have certain discretionary powers, but I can’t let suspects go when they’re threatening me with false arrest.”

  “Let suspects go?” Cora said.

  “The ADA would chew my ass. Letting you go is tantamount to admitting you shouldn’t have been picked up in the first place. At least with a lawyer involved.”

  “You’re letting us go?” Cora said.

  Crowley shrugged. “It’s not like you’re a flight risk. Everyone in America knows your face. I can’t imagine your attorney would be screaming for a ballistics test if she thought it would prove you’re guilty. I’d just as soon dismiss the charges, as long as it doesn’t get me in trouble. So if you’d like to voluntarily take a paraffin test, since your attorney has only hypothetically conceded you fired a gun, and if you’re willing to sign waivers saying you won’t sue me for doing so…”

  Crowley shrugged again. “I’d just as soon let you go.”

  Chapter

  10

  “So how’d you like the play?” Cora said as they drove the Hutchinson River Parkway into the Merritt.

  “Frankly,” Becky said, “it wasn’t uppermost in my mind.”

  “Okay. Aside from that, Mrs. Lincoln, how did you like the play?”

  “It was wonderful. Under any other circumstances, I’d have had a really good time. As it was, I sat there obsessing on the last thing that damn sergeant said.”

  “The fact he let us go?”

  “No. The crossword puzzle.”

  Cora reacted well to the comment by not driving off the road. “Must we come back to the crossword puzzle?”

  “Yeah, we must,” Becky said. “It’s the most intriguing thing about the murder. I wish we had a copy.”

  “Why didn’t you ask for one?”

  “I was afraid to. After insisting it didn’t mean anything.”

  “He knew we were lying.”

  “How would he know that?”

  “It has to mean something. Everywhere I go, there’s a goddamned crossword puzzle. It always means something.”

  “You always insist it doesn’t.”

  “That’s so I won’t have to solve them. The fact it’s there is significant. And you know what’s really significant?”

  “What?”

  “Who knew I was coming? The guy hired you. He didn’t hire me. He didn’t ask you to bring me. By all rights, he didn’t want you to bring me. He didn’t know I was coming.”

  “I’ll buy that.”

  “But the killer knew I was coming? How does that make any sense?”

  “It doesn’t,” Becky said. “Which is why I didn’t want to show too much interest in the crossword puzzle. And make it look as if I thought it was significant.”

  “It is significant.”

  “You’re going around again, Cora.”

  “And then the guy lets us go. What, is he nuts? If I had to make a list of the courses of action available to the sergeant, letting us go would not have been in the top ten. Hell, I doubt if it would have made the list.”

  “His reasons made sense.”

  “You find that reassuring? I don’t. He’s just a dumb cop. You expect his reasons to make sense? I wouldn’t expect him to reason beyond ‘she had the gun, she’s guilty.’”

  “Maybe he was acting on instructions,” Becky said.

  “Who from?”

  “The ADA.”

  “There wasn’t an ADA present. Most of what he was acting on was what we gave him in the interview.”

  “We didn’t give him anything.”

  “Exactly,” Cora said. “You think an ADA lets us walk without telling a story.”

  “Maybe he’s just a nice guy.”

  Cora offered a brief, pungent ejaculation.

  “Even if he’s not a nice guy, I’m not sure he deserved that,” Becky said.

  Cora didn’t answer. She kept her eyes on the road ahead and said casually, “Becky.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t look around, but there’s a black sedan following us.”

  Becky blinked, managed to restrain herself from looking. “How do you know it’s following us?”

  “It’s been behind us since the city.”

  “A lot of cars have been behind us since the city. If you drive from New York to Connecticut, this is sort of the way you go.”

  “Laugh it off if you want to. I’ll be a lot happier if he doesn’t take 7 North.”

  “If he’s going north, he’ll take 7 North or 8 North. Seven North is first, it’s shorter, it’s more likely, we take it. You gonna freak out if he does?”

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake.” Cora switched on the right-hand blinker.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Stopping for gas.”

  “You filled up on the way down.”

  “Okay, you need to go to the bathroom.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “All right, I need to go to the bathroom. You stay here and spot the tail.”

  Cora pulled into one of the many service stations that line the Merritt Parkway. She drove by the pumps and parked in a head-in diagonal space.

  “You’ll have to switch seats, though. It’s easier to watch the rearview mirror from the driver’s side.”

  “Is this just a ploy to get me to drive again?” Becky said.

  “God, I hope so.”

  Cora got out of the car and headed back toward the station. The black sedan hadn’t followed them past the pumps, but on the far side of the station, a car was idling in the shadows. With the headlights shining at her, she couldn’t tell if it was the same vehicle.

  Cora had an instant decision to make. Should she stride up to the car, bang on the window, and demand to know what the driver was doing? Or should she pretend she hadn’t spotted him and see what he did. Her instinct was to promote the confrontation—Cora always favored action over inaction—but approaching a car head-on in the dark was a risky proposition. Even cops used caution. Those who didn’t occasionally got their heads blown off. The killer had a gun. He wasn’t afraid to use it. He might not take kindly to having been spotted.

  Cora reached the front door of the station. The driver’s face still wasn’t visible. Damn. In detective novels, she’d see his face in the glow of the cigarette. No one smoked anymore.

  Still grumbling to herself, Cora went inside. She had a faint hope that maybe the guy’d follow her in and Becky would see him.

  Becky couldn’t see a thing. She’d moved to the driver’s seat and the mirror was angled just fine, but she couldn’t see around the station. A car on the other side wouldn’t be visible unless it pulled up to the pumps.

  Becky watched Cora go into the station. No one followed her in. No car pulled up to the pumps. Had any car driven past while they were arguing? No, it had not. And here she was, sitting in the parking lot like a fool, where she couldn’t see a damn thing.

  It occurred to Becky she could use a stick of gum. She didn’t have to chew it, she just had to buy it. For less than a buck, she could pop in and out of the station and get a look at the other side.

  As she drew near the pumps, she could see a car parked in the shadows on the far side of the station. The motor wasn’t running, and the headlights were off. Becky couldn’t see if there was anyone in the driver’s seat.

  But Becky’s attention wasn’t focused on the car. She was too distracted by the man with his coat collar pulled up and his hat down over his face who had just passed the corner of the pumps and was headed up the steps into the store.

  Whoops.

  Was the man from the car? Was that the same car? Wa
s the man following Cora into the service station to make sure she didn’t slip out some side door?

  Did the man know who Becky was? Had he recognized her as the other woman in the car he was following?

  Becky bit her lip. If he did know who she was, stopping and turning around would be a dead giveaway. The advantage she and Cora had was that the man didn’t know they’d spotted him. If she blew it, Cora would be furious. Of course, having been arrested for murder, Cora was in a mood to be furious. She’d probably be mad at her just for getting out of the car.

  Becky barely broke stride. She skipped up the steps and came in the door of the service station right on the man’s heels.

  The man glanced around. So did Becky. Cora wasn’t there. The man headed in the direction of the rest rooms. If he was headed for the men’s room, Becky should snag Cora out of the ladies’ and they should drive off and leave him stranded.

  He wasn’t. He stopped just before the door to the women’s room and began inspecting one of the stand-up coolers of soda.

  Becky headed in the opposite direction and looked for gum. There was none. Damn it. There was no one in line at the counter; she could just buy it and go.

  Becky strode up to the clerk. She worked behind a glass window, practically unnecessary these days, with everyone using credit cards and nobody paying cash.

  “You got any gum?” Becky said. She felt like a fool. The woman was chewing gum.

  The woman pointed down.

  Becky looked. There was a box of Trident on the bottom shelf. She grabbed a pack, slid it through the window.

  The woman scanned it. They scanned everything these days. It was a dollar one with tax. Becky didn’t have a penny. She slid two dollars through the window.

  The woman pushed one back, said, “Close enough.”

  Becky grabbed the gum and turned around.

  The man with the hat over his eyes was still hanging out by the women’s room, pretending to look at soda. Becky ignored the man, went out the front door.

  The car was still parked in the shadows. Becky wasn’t surprised. It occurred to her the guy would have to sprint for it when Cora came out of the women’s room. She wondered how he’d do that if she was watching. It was an intriguing thought. If the guy didn’t know he’d been spotted, he wouldn’t want to be. His dilemma would be the best of all possible worlds.

  Becky stopped on the steps, unwrapped the pack of gum. No need to rush. Let’s see, these packs had drawstrings, didn’t they? Where was it? On the end. No, the other end.

  Her fingernails were long enough to pry it up just fine, but too long to grip it well. How could she pull it around the pack?

  Hmm. Not that big a problem. How long could she pretend to be thwarted by it? Not that the man would see her do it; he’d just come out and find her unwrapping a stick of gum. Would it occur to him, Boy that took a long time, how klutzy is this broad? It might if he was following her; otherwise, why would he even notice?

  Becky had the top of the pack open. She wrestled a stick of gum out. Okay, no way unwrapping a stick is as tough as unwrapping a pack.

  Becky heard footsteps behind her. Without looking around, she couldn’t tell if it was him or if it was someone else. She unwrapped the gum, fed it into her mouth. As she did, the man with the hat over his face came down the steps. He took no notice of her, headed back in the direction of his car.

  When he reached the end of the pumps, he hung a right and walked around the back of the Mini Cooper parked there. He had a bottle of soda in his hand. He hopped into the Mini Cooper, started the engine, and took off.

  Becky felt foolish as hell. She turned and walked back to Cora’s Toyota and slipped into the driver’s seat.

  Moments later, the door opened and Cora slid into the passenger seat.

  “Had to go to the bathroom after all,” Cora said. “So. Any luck? You see the guy?”

  Becky was grateful for the question. It was one she could answer truthfully without having to embellish. “No,” she said.

  “I didn’t think so. There’s a car parked in the shadows the other side of the station. Pull out, see if he follows.”

  “Fine,” Becky said. She started the engine.

  Cora looked at Becky, frowned. “Are you chewing gum?”

  Chapter

  11

  The black sedan followed them up the Merritt Parkway and turned north on Route 7 when they did.

  “Believe me now?” Cora said.

  “I believed you then,” Becky said. “I just didn’t want to.”

  “Well, it answers one question.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Why Crowley let us go.”

  “You mean that’s him?”

  “Well, not him personally. But one of his boys. Perkins, perhaps. He seemed to like you.”

  “You really think it’s the cops?”

  “I prefer it to the killer.”

  “Cora.”

  “What do you want me to say? ‘There, there, Becky, it’s all right. The killer isn’t on your tail.’ I have no idea who’s in the car behind us. But I prefer knowing about it to not knowing about it. Anyway, whoever it is, it’s interesting.”

  “Unless it’s a businessman on his way home,” Becky said.

  “Who followed us to a service station on the Merritt, parked in the shadows while we went inside, and then followed us out of the station?”

  “All right, a rather weird businessman on his way home.”

  “Hey, I’ll give the guy the benefit of the doubt if he’ll just turn off.”

  He didn’t. The black sedan was behind them all the way up Route 7, turned off when they did, followed from a discreet distance over the local roads. By the time Becky took the last turn toward Bakerhaven, there was no doubt about it.

  “Okay, Nancy Drew, you’re up,” Cora said.

  “Huh?” Becky said.

  “Where’s your car parked?”

  “Front of the library.”

  “Excellent,” Cora said. “Hop out, get in your car, and drive to the mall.”

  “I live right down the alley.”

  “Yeah, but you don’t want to go there. Head for the mall. If the guy follows you, I’ll drive up on his tail and get his plate number.”

  “What do I do then?”

  “Well, since the mall’s closed, I wouldn’t hang out there. Circle the parking lot and drive home.”

  Cora pulled up across from the library.

  “I won’t be able to sleep knowing someone’s watching me,” Becky said.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll sneak up on the guy and blow his head off.”

  “Cora.”

  “You don’t like that idea? Okay, call the cops. Dan Finley will make a point of cruising by. He’s as smitten as that Perkins guy. You know, it would be funny if Finley was protecting you from Perkins.”

  “Yeah, a laugh riot.”

  “But I don’t think it’ll happen. I think he’ll follow me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because of the crossword puzzle. If it weren’t for the crossword puzzle, I’d say he was after you. But you start throwing puzzles in the mix, someone’s out to get me.”

  “You’re probably right. So if he follows you, I tag along and get his plate number?”

  “Yeah. Not so close he kills you, just close enough to read the plate.”

  “And if he turns around and comes after me?”

  “I’ve got a gun.”

  “No, you don’t. The police kept it to compare the bullet.”

  “So don’t let him catch you.”

  “Cora.”

  “Relax. He’ll never know you’re there.”

  “What do you want me to do when I get the plate number?”

  “Go home and call me. I need to know someone’s sitting on the house anyway.”

  “But—”

  “Get out of the car already. Fella’s going to think we’re lovers.”

  Becky gave Cora a look and got out.


  Cora got out of the passenger seat, walked around to the driver’s side. “See you tomorrow,” Cora said. She hopped in and took off.

  Cora glanced in the rearview mirror. The guy was still following her. As expected. Despite what she told Becky, Cora felt a slight rush of adrenaline. She didn’t speed up or slow down, just kept going. She drove home without incident and turned up the driveway. The guy had followed all the way. Cora couldn’t see Becky, but she knew she was back there.

  Cora parked the car in the drive and walked across the lawn. The lights were out in the upstairs addition. It was after midnight. Cora had left the light on in the living room. She was happy to have it.

  The living room drapes were drawn. Cora pushed the curtain aside a crack and peered out. Nothing was moving, everything was quiet, there were no lights down by the road. Not that it meant anything. If the guy was watching the house, he’d have killed his lights. There was no way to know.

  Assuming it was the guy. Assuming it wasn’t some stupid cop.

  The phone rang and Cora jumped a mile. Good God, she was wound up! Who the hell could it be at this hour? For one time Cora wished she had a phone in the living room. She had to go in the office or the kitchen to answer, and she didn’t want to leave the window.

  The phone rang again. Cora took one last look and sprinted for the kitchen.

  She snatched the receiver off the wall. “Hello!” she snarled.

  “Well, I like that. Last time I do you a favor.”

  Cora blinked. “Becky? How’d you get home so fast?”

  “I have a cell phone, Cora.”

  “Oh. Right.”

  “Boy are you nervous. Relax. The guy went right on by your driveway and kept going.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “No. Maybe he is just some guy on the way home. I mean, someone’s gotta live around here, right?”

  “You sure he didn’t turn around and double back?”

  “I sure am. I’m still following him.”

  “You’re driving with a cell phone?”

  “Don’t worry. If I get picked up, I know a good lawyer.”

  “Becky. It’s not funny. If this guy sees you—”

  “He won’t. When I passed your house, I dropped back. He’s way up ahead.”