by Parnell Hall
Matt turned to Cora and Aaron. Before he could introduce himself, his wife stepped in front of him. “Ditch the limo, Lenny.”
“Jackie. How are you?”
“Fine. Ditch the limo.”
“Jackie—”
“We walked here, Lenny. Let’s not stage a photo op that makes it look like he came in a limo.”
The agent gave in with poor grace, signaled to the limo driver to drive off.
Iris Cooper came surging back, with Rick Reed and his microphone in tow. “Matt Greystone. Iris Cooper. I’m the first selectman. It is an honor to welcome you to our town.”
“Well, thank you, but that’s not necessary. This is the Fourth of July. That’s what the day is about. That’s why all you people are here. I wouldn’t want to do anything to take away from that.”
“Well, that’s a fine spirit, I’m sure,” Iris Cooper said.
Perfectly handled, Cora thought. Now if only Iris is quick enough to forestall Rick Reed, who seemed poised with a question. In light of the young man’s tasteful statement, it would be the worst of all possible worlds.
Wrong again.
Iris Cooper said, “There’s just one person I’d like you to meet. Allow me to introduce the Puzzle Lady, Cora Felton.”
The young man looked pained as he turned to her. Cora felt for him. He couldn’t rudely ignore her, but prolonging his time in the spotlight was the last thing in the world he wanted.
“And I would like to commend you on what you just said,” Cora told him. “Today is the day to celebrate our country, not ourselves.” She offered Matt her arm. “Would you allow me to walk you out of the spotlight?” Deliberately steering him away from Rick Reed, she proceeded to do so.
There was a stunned silence, followed by a rousing applause.
As they moved out of microphone range, Matt Greystone said to Cora in a low voice, “Thank you.”
And just like that it was over. Iris Cooper looked startled. Rick Reed looked betrayed. Everyone clearly would have liked to see more of Matt Greystone. But in light of his modest comment about not wanting to undermine the Fourth of July, no one could resent him for it. Particularly since he hopped out among the blankets like an overgrown kid and joined the children throwing Frisbees. His good-natured enthusiasm was infectious. Cora couldn’t help smiling.
Until she noticed he was throwing left-handed.
Cora felt a hand on her arm. She turned. Mrs. Matt Greystone was smiling at her.
“Cora. Hi. I’m Jackie. I just wanted to thank you.”
Cora smiled, shook her hand. “For what?”
“Walking Matt out of there. This was all his agent’s doing. He wants to keep Matt in the limelight. He’s afraid Matt won’t be the same when he comes back from his injury and he’ll lose his market value.”
“The Yankees still have to pay him.”
“He’s thinking of commercials, endorsements. He wants to make them now while Matt’s still news.”
“Won’t a star player coming back from a serious injury be a huge news story?”
“If he’s successful, sure. He’s going to be out all year. He needs to come back next spring. But nothing’s certain. If he does and goes ten and ten, good enough for your average starting pitcher, he’ll look like he’s completely lost it. And suppose he gets shelled. Suppose he gets sent down to the minor leagues. Comes back, can’t cut it, gets sent down again.”
“You’re talking worst-case scenario,” Cora said. She gave Jackie an encouraging smile. “He looks like the type of guy who bounces back.”
“Yeah. Anyway, I wanted to thank you. And I need your help.”
“You got it,” Cora said. “Moving here from New York is a big step. I know, I did it myself. So if there’s anything I can do.”
“Great,” Jackie said. “I was hoping you could help me with this.” She dug in her purse, came out with a sheet of paper, handed it to Cora.
It was a crossword puzzle.
Chapter
4
Cora’s face fell.
The day had begun on such a positive note. She was going to meet Matt Greystone, one of her Yankee heroes. He had turned out to be a nice guy. She had ingratiated herself with him and his wife.
And now this.
A crossword puzzle. A rotten, stinking crossword puzzle. The worst of all possible worlds. A crossword puzzle she could not solve in a million years. And here was Matt Greystone’s attractive young wife waiting for her to solve it, which she had about as much chance of doing as Matt had of pitching a perfect game on his broken arm.
“Where’d you get this?” Cora said.
“It came in the mail.”
“To you?”
“No, to Matt.”
“Who sent it?”
“I have no idea.”
“What’s Matt say about it?”
“Nothing. He has no idea who sent it.”
“Does he do crossword puzzles?”
“No, he doesn’t. He does Sudoku now and then. You know how it is with a starting pitcher. One day on, four days off. When he’s sitting around, he’ll sometimes do the Sudoku in the Post. But crosswords just aren’t his thing.”
“Do you do crosswords?”
“No, or I’d have solved it. That’s why I was hoping you would.”
“Why do you care?”
“Someone sent this to Matt with no explanation whatsoever. It’s kind of strange. I thought the puzzle itself might tell me why.” Jackie smiled. “Look, I know it’s like walking up to a doctor at a party and telling him your symptoms. If you don’t want to do it, I understand.”
Cora smiled. “Hey, you want it solved, I’ll take it home, see what it says. How can I get in touch with you?”
“Give me your cell phone. I’ll program my number into it.”
“I haven’t got a cell phone.”
“You haven’t got a cell phone?”
“I never got out of the dark ages. You got a pen, you can write it on the back of the crossword puzzle.”
Jackie scrawled her number on the crossword puzzle, handed it over. “There’s one other thing I was hoping you could help me with.”
“What’s that?”
Jackie pointed to the top of the puzzle. “See? It says ‘Untitled.’ What does that mean?”
“It means it doesn’t have a title.”
“Well, lots of puzzles don’t have titles, don’t they? Why say so?”
“I have no idea.”
“Neither do I. But it’s a little creepy. I mean, why would someone send that to Matt and say it was untitled?”
“Why indeed?” Cora said.
Chapter
5
Sherry Carter shook her head. “I can’t leave you alone for a minute without you bringing back a crossword puzzle?”
“Believe me, it wasn’t my idea.”
“It’s never your idea. You think that makes it any better?”
“What are you crabbing about? If it weren’t for me, you’d be the Puzzle Lady and people would be bringing them directly to you.”
“Not so often,” Sherry said. “They expect you to solve the puzzle and the problem. I could solve the puzzle, which wouldn’t help them much. It’s the secret behind the puzzle they really want to know, and that’s what you’re good at.”
“Yeah, well, I can’t find the secret behind the puzzle unless you solve the damn thing. Besides, this one’s different.”
“How is it different?”
“This one has a title.”
“Lots of puzzles have titles.”
“Yeah, but it’s ‘Untitled.’”
“Huh? I thought you said it has a title.”
“Yeah, it’s ‘Untitled.’”
“Cora—”
“Look.”
Cora held up the puzzle.
Sherry took it, looked it over. “Oh, sure. This was created in Crossword Compiler. No one entered a title, so it says ‘Untitled.’”
“Yeah, but—”
“But what?”
“I’ve seen lots of printouts of puzzles. They don’t say ‘Untitled.’ They just don’t have a title.”
“Sure. Because that’s what the constructor told Crossword Compiler. If you don’t want it to have a title, you tell it not to have a title, and it leaves off the title. If you want a title, you type in a title and it prints. If you have it set for a title, but you don’t enter one, it just says ‘Untitled.’ That’s a puzzle you might want to have a title for, but you haven’t titled it yet.”
“So this was done deliberately?”
“Or as an oversight.”
“Sherry—”
“When I solve this, maybe I can tell if the title was intended.”
“So solve it.”
“I would, but I’m busy.”
“Doing what?”
“Your job. The Puzzle Lady column doesn’t write itself. I gotta write a new one every day.”
“Come on, Sherry. You’re so good at it you can do it in your sleep. Solve it before I run into Matt Greystone’s wife and she wants to know why I haven’t.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll get to it,” Sherry said.
The phone rang. “Saved by the bell,” Sherry said. She scooped it up. “Hi, Chief. Yeah, she’s here.”
Cora gave her a dirty look and picked up the phone. “Hi, Chief. It’s all right. No one missed you.”
“What?”
“In fact no one noticed you weren’t there.”
“That’s what Dan said. He wasn’t trying to get my goat?”
“No more than I am.”
Cora filled Chief Harper in on the happenings at the fairgrounds.
“So it won’t even make the evening news?” Harper said.
“Oh, I’m sure it will. But Rick Reed’s going to have to make it up himself.”
“Like what?”
“Oh, you know. Like ‘Chief Harper ducked out on Matt Greystone, cutting short the introductions at the Bakerhaven fairgrounds. The premier Yankee pitcher did his best to carry on in the chief’s absence, and left the stage after a curt dismissal of the entire proceedings.’”
“Oh, yeah? Well, the robbery turned out to be something.”
“What was that?”
“It’s a little complicated. You want to come down to the station?”
“Oh, great, Chief. First I fill in for you at the picnic, now you want me to solve your robbery.”
“I don’t want any such thing. I just want to talk it over with you to make sure I’m not going mad.”
“Don’t lob ’em across the plate like that, Chief.”
“Very funny. Will you come in?”
“Not unless you give me a hint what this is all about.”
“I told you. A robbery.”
“And where was this robbery?”
“At Amanda Hoyt’s.”
“And just what was taken?”
“That’s the thing. It may not have been taken. It may just be lost.”
“All right. What has Amanda Hoyt lost?”
“Her memory.”
Chapter
6
Cora drove down to the Bakerhaven police station. The town had emptied out in the late afternoon. It would fill up again when people came back to the fairgrounds to watch the fireworks. Though not nearly as many as for the picnic. The fireworks on the river could be seen from a good distance.
Cora parked in front of Cushman’s Bake Shop. She couldn’t resist going in for a corn muffin. Mrs. Cushman got her baked goods from the Silver Moon Bakery in Manhattan, so her pastries were top of the line. Cora ordered a corn muffin and a cappuccino, took it down to the police station.
Dan Finley was manning the desk.
“Did you tease the chief about Matt Greystone?” Cora said.
“Did you?”
“That’s not the point. I’m not one of his officers.”
“Come on, Cora. If I can’t tease the chief now and then, what’s the use of the job?”
“Wasn’t there something about protect and defend?”
“I didn’t read the rules all that closely.”
“Is the chief in?”
“That he is. Fourth of July, we got two policemen in the station. How do you like that?”
“How do you like that?”
“I get holiday pay. What’s not to like?”
Cora went into the office, found the chief on the computer. That couldn’t be good. The chief understood computers even less than Cora did when she started using them. Now she could whip around the Internet, going in and out of chat rooms, purchasing things online. Chief Harper needed help just logging on.
“What are you up to, Chief?”
“Just looking for help with my robbery.”
“It is a robbery?”
“I think so.”
“You’re not sure?”
“She’s not sure.”
“Amanda Hoyt?”
“Yeah.”
Amanda Hoyt was the village witch, at least as far as the kids were concerned. She was a medium, specialized in tarot cards and palm reading. She was rumored to hold séances, though no one would admit having been to one.
“And she’s lost her memory?”
“Unless it was taken.”
Cora blinked. “Please tell me you didn’t say that, Chief.”
“That was my first reaction. But apparently she has her data from her laptop backed up on some memory card.”
“Oh, for goodness sakes.”
“What?”
“She lost the memory card from her laptop?”
“Isn’t that what I just said?”
“It’s slightly less occult than what you just said.”
“Huh?”
“If someone stole a memory card, it’s a simple, straightforward crime.”
“Except the thing’s so damn small, she can’t swear it’s not lost.”
“It’s probably lost.”
“Then why did someone break in?”
“Someone broke in?”
“Didn’t I say that?”
“No, Chief. It’s probably good you didn’t introduce Matt Greystone if you can’t even describe a simple crime.”
“Sorry. This case has me spooked.”
Cora’s eyes widened. “You’re afraid of the witch.”
“I’m not afraid of the witch. There’s just something creepy about it. Makes it hard to take what she says seriously.”
“What’s on this card that’s so all-fired important?”
Harper made a face. “That’s just it. She won’t say.”
“You’re kidding.”
“She says she can’t violate a client’s confidentiality. Just like if she was a doctor or lawyer or something.”
“She has her séances on tape?”
“I don’t know if it’s recordings or written documents or what. Says she won’t say, but it’s confidential and she wants it back.”
“If it’s gone.”
“She’s sure it was taken.”
“Why?”
“Because nothing else was.”
“What makes her think anything was taken?”
“Because her house was broken into.”
“How’d the intruder break in?”
“That’s the thing.”
Cora looked at him. “Everything about this case seems to be the thing. It has more qualifiers than a used-car warranty. What’s the thing about this break-in?”
“I can’t even be sure there was one.”
“Excuse me?”
“According to Amanda the kitchen door was ajar. She swears she always keeps it locked. She claims the lock was forced.”
“Was it?”
“It’s an old house. There’s scratches all over the door and the jamb.”
“Are they fresh?”
“I can’t tell. But enough of the wood’s eaten away it wouldn’t be hard to stick a knife blade between the door and the jamb if you wanted to slip the lock.
So taking the woman at her word, her house was broken into.”
“Say her house was broken into. She didn’t have any money or jewelry worth taking?”
“She says nothing else is missing.”
“It doesn’t sound very promising, Chief. Frankly, I don’t know what to suggest.”
“I was hoping for a little more help than that.”
“I’m not clear what you want me to do, Chief.”
“I thought you might want to investigate the scene of the crime.”
Cora cocked her head. “Oh, did you now?”
“Cora—”
“Investigate the scene of the crime. The scene of what crime? You’re not even sure there is a crime. From what you tell me, there’s nothing to see. So. You want me to talk to the witch.”
“I just thought—”
“You’re scared of the witch, so you want me to go talk to her.”
“I’d like to know what her game is.”
“You and half the town, Chief. You think she might tell me something she wouldn’t tell you?”
“Why don’t you run over there, say I sent you? At least it will show we’re taking this thing seriously.”
“It’s the Fourth of July. She may not be home.”
“She’s home. I had Dan do a drive-by.”
“He didn’t mention that.”
“I told him to keep it quiet.”
“I can see why.”
Before Chief Harper could retort, Cora was out the door.
Chapter
7
Cora had never been to Amanda Hoyt’s house before. She’d seen it of course, but, like the rest of the town, she’d given it a wide berth. Trick-or-treaters skipped the house, and, even in the short time she had lived in town, there were tales, probably apocryphal, of unwise boys and girls who’d dared. Cora had kept away, not through any fear of the supernatural, but from a disinclination to disturb anyone who didn’t wish to be disturbed.
If the woman had lost her memory, that was something else. It was a mystery, and Cora loved a mystery, despite her ritual feigned indifference with Chief Harper. It seemed only prudent to gripe about something besides crossword puzzles.
Not that there was anything strange about the house itself. It was, like most of the houses in Bakerhaven, a wood-frame house, white with green shutters, with two steps up to a wooden front porch. What kept people away was the woman’s reputation.
