A Puzzle to Be Named Later--A Puzzle Lady Mystery

by Parnell Hall

“Hi, Cora. Thought I saw you in here. Hey, thanks for the invite.”

  Chapter

  20

  The young man at the gate had a clipboard and a Yankees hat. “Let me see. Grant. Aaron, Sherry Carter, and Jennifer.” He turned to Cora. “I don’t see you, ma’am.”

  “Because I’m not a Grant. My name is Felton. F-e-l-t-o-n. It should be above Grant, if your list is alphabetical.”

  The young man moved his finger up the list. “Hah! Cora Felton.”

  “Thank you,” Cora said. “Are you with the Yankees?”

  He smiled. “Batboy.”

  “I thought so. You’ve got that Yankee pride.” She leaned her head in conspiratorially. “Can you tell me something? Is Derek Jeter on the list?”

  The young man beamed. “He’s already here.”

  “Then what are we standing around for? Come on, gang. It’s a party!”

  “Party!” Jennifer shrieked. She set off across the front lawn with her parents and Cora in hot pursuit. All they needed was Buddy to complete the picture, but dogs were not invited.

  Everyone else was. Cars lined the road in both directions. There must have been a hundred people there, but none were in front of the house. Everything was happening around back.

  Matt Greystone’s wife stood in the side yard, a recognizable beacon, attracting newcomers and ushering them around to the back of the house where the party was in full swing.

  At least half of the guests were in bathing suits, though few were actually in the pool. One young man was doing laps. Another bobbed up and down in the water. One comely young lady in a bathing suit lay beside the pool, her wet hair attesting to the fact she’d been in.

  “Wanna swim!” Jennifer said.

  “With your life jacket,” Sherry told her.

  “Don’t need a life jacket.”

  “No,” Sherry said, “but you wear it anyway.”

  “Why?”

  Sherry had a bathing suit on in case she needed to rescue Jennifer, but she wasn’t planning on it. “So Mommy doesn’t have to get wet.”

  “Ah, there you are,” Matt Greystone said. He wore a bathing suit, T-shirt, Yankees cap, and a particularly bulky padded sling. “A compromise,” he said, pointing to it. “The doctors let me have the party, as long as I look like I have no business going near it. Come in, have a drink, it’s all informal. Lunch is a barbecue, eat anytime you feel like. Some people have to get back to the stadium, so no one’s standing on ceremony.”

  “I’m not a big ceremony stander,” Cora said.

  “Cora, thank you so much for helping me out with this. If there’s anything I can do for you.”

  “Actually, you can. Where’s Derek Jeter?”

  Matt grinned. “Don’t worry. He’ll find you.”

  “Huh?”

  More guests were arriving, and Matt Greystone moved on to his duties as host.

  There was a splash. Cora looked around to see Jennifer had plunged into the pool. Sherry sat on the edge, dangling her legs in, watching her little girl.

  Cora looked around. For the most part, the guests were gathered in small clumps. The guests were largely segregated into Bakerhaven residents and Yankees. Cora didn’t see anyone she knew. It had been years since she’d been to Yankee Stadium, and the roster had turned over considerably. Still, she watched TV, and she didn’t recognize anyone. It occurred to her with a game that night, most of the people there were not players but Yankee brass.

  The only one Cora recognized was Matt’s agent, who appeared to be putting in double duty as a publicist and a bodyguard. While telling glowing tales of Matt’s rehabilitation, Lenny always seemed to be on hand to block any gesture that might have jostled Matt’s arm. Cora’s assessment of the agent vacillated between gallant and desperate.

  Cora headed for the bar.

  “Cora!”

  Cora’s mouth fell open. The man descending on her was Harvey Beerbaum. The portly cruciverbalist wore aviator sunglasses and a loud Hawaiian shirt.

  “Isn’t this wonderful?” Harvey said. “Talk about upper crust. It’s like the elite of the elite.”

  “Why, Harvey Beerbaum. I never would have imagined you to be starstruck.”

  “I’m not starstruck. It’s just there’s some baseball players you’d hardly ever see outside of a crossword fill. It’s not like Mel Ott is here. I bet it never dawned on him he’d be the most famous of them all. But A-Rod, there’s a fill name.”

  “He’s not here.”

  “Or K-Rod.”

  “Not a Yankee. But I know what you mean. Glad you’re enjoying yourself, Harvey.”

  Cora turned around and found herself face-to-face with Derek Jeter. He wore a bathing suit and a Hawaiian shirt somewhat less loud than Harvey Beerbaum’s.

  “Cora Felton. What a pleasure. How nice to meet you. I’m Derek Jeter. May I have your autograph?”

  Cora was overwhelmed. She blinked. “My autograph?”

  “I’m a big fan. You know, a lot of us do Sudoku in the dugout. It’s relaxing and sharpens the mind. Your Sudoku books got us through some long rain delays. Glad you got here. I can’t stay that long, but I did want to meet you. And if you wouldn’t mind.” Derek Jeter thrust forward a piece of paper. “Could you sign this?”

  It was a Sudoku.

  “Oh, my goodness!” Cora said.

  “I know,” Derek said. “You must get this all the time. But I’ve heard you’re a whiz at these things. Not just constructing them, but solving them, too. This isn’t one of your puzzles. I got this from a book by Will Shortz. I was wondering if you’d mind showing me how fast you can solve it. If you don’t mind me watching you work.”

  Cora practically beamed. “Do you know how much fun I’ve had watching you work? Just hang on. You ain’t seen nothing yet.”

  Cora whipped out a pen and zipped through the puzzle with a speed she hadn’t displayed since the time Harvey Beerbaum challenged her to a Sudoku contest.

  Cora signed the Sudoku with a flourish, and handed it over.

  “There you go, Derek.”

  “Amazing! Thank you so much.”

  Cora was on the brink of proposing marriage when Derek Jeter was recognized and swept away by a throng of fans.

  Cora bellied up to the bar triumphantly. “I’ll have a Diet Coke with a slice of lemon.”

  “Livin’ on the edge, are you?” said the bartender.

  “You have no idea.”

  Aaron came over. “Well, my daughter can swim with a life jacket.”

  “I never thought she couldn’t.”

  “I never thought she would.”

  “How’d you talk her into it?”

  “I didn’t have to.” Aaron jerked his thumb over at the pool.

  The witch lay floating on her back in the pool. She wore a life jacket. It was stylishly cut to show off the curves of her bathing suit, still it was a life jacket.

  “See?” Aaron said. “Now it’s a big-girl jacket. I won’t be able to get it off her.”

  “This is why I never had children,” Cora said.

  “This is why?”

  “Well, this and half a dozen time-proven methods of birth control.”

  “Did you get Derek Jeter’s autograph?”

  “No, he got mine.”

  “What?”

  Cora floated around the party, lighter than air. A cluster of Yankee contingent caught her attention. Derek Jeter was elsewhere, and this was clearly another celebrity. Cora wondered who. She edged her way into the pack and stopped.

  It was Becky Baldwin in a bikini. Becky looked good. Cora couldn’t deny it. Becky always looked good, whether parading in front of the jury or simply holding down the desk at her office. But Becky Baldwin in a bikini at a Yankees party was a Yankee fan’s trifecta. It was like the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue come to life.

  Jackie, who was standing watching, made a face.

  “What is it?” Cora said.

  Jackie jerked her thumb at the group. “Party cr
ashers.”

  A middle-aged man in shorts and a sports shirt was insinuating himself around the periphery of the Yankee brass, trying to listen in.

  Cora was disappointed. She’d thought Jackie was jealous of Becky Baldwin. “You know him?”

  “Not really. Just a hanger-on. When you’re famous there’s always a group of people who pretend they know you. They’re everywhere. That’s the way these people work. They figure they’re not worth throwing out. They’re harassing you, but if you complain about it, you’re difficult. It’s better not to make a scene.”

  “He’s harassing you?”

  “He’s a gossip columnist. Always looking to dig up dirt.”

  “It must be hard.”

  “It’s all relative. Matt not being able to pitch is hard. Men like that are an annoyance.”

  Jackie moved off to greet some late arrivals.

  Chief Harper came by. His wife was triumphantly in tow.

  “Hello, Cora,” she said. “How nice to see you here.”

  “Likewise, I’m sure.” Cora lowered her voice. “Have you seen Derek Jeter yet?”

  “He’s here?”

  “Right over there.”

  “Excuse me,” Mrs. Harper said, and immediately transformed herself from policeman’s wife into infatuated groupie.

  “You brought your wife,” Cora said.

  “Damn right I brought my wife.”

  “How’d you manage that?”

  “I RSVP’d that I couldn’t attend because this afternoon was promised to my wife.”

  “And he said bring her?”

  “That he did.”

  “You’re a devious man, Chief.”

  “Thank you. Where’s the bar?”

  “That hut with the thatched roof. Are you drinking, Chief?”

  “I’m off duty.”

  Harper headed for the bar, leaving Cora to look around. The man Jackie had identified as a gossip columnist tried to approach Matt, but Lenny deftly intercepted him and guided him away. Cora had a feeling it wasn’t because the little agent was afraid he’d bump Matt’s arm.

  Over at the pool. Jennifer was rapidly turning into a prune. Sherry and Aaron’s entreaties seemed to be having absolutely no effect on her. Cora had a feeling Jennifer wasn’t getting out until the witch did, and that didn’t appear to be any time soon. The woman was now floating on a rubber raft. She was lying on her stomach, displaying enough curves to do justice to your average Kardashian.

  Cora smiled at Jennifer and shook her head. “Oh, baby, if you only knew.”

  Chapter

  21

  A booming voice split the air. “Where is he? Where is that malingerer? Come on. I’ve never known anyone to milk an injury so much. Get off your lazy butt and get back to work.”

  Matt Greystone’s eyes lit up. “Oh, my God. It’s the voice of doom. Don Upton. They let you out. And without a keeper. What’s going on?”

  The young man pulled off his sunglasses and smiled. “That shows how useful I am to the organization. We got a game this afternoon and they don’t even care if I’m there.”

  “You started yesterday, didn’t you?”

  “You make it sound like I got knocked out in the first inning. I pitched seven.”

  “Where’s the team today?”

  “Cleveland.”

  “You came all that way?”

  “I heard there’d be naked women. Where are they? Where’s the Girls Gone Wild?”

  “Look in the hot tub.”

  “They have bathing suits. Don’t you have a sauna?”

  “It only holds four people.”

  “Me and three girls. Perfect. Hey there, young lady. I’m starting up the sauna. It’s a bathing suit–free zone, feel free to join me.”

  Eyes swung to Becky Baldwin. Aaron looked in spite of himself.

  “Aaron,” Cora said.

  “Huh?”

  “It seems like a really good time to watch your daughter.”

  Aaron glanced over at the pool. Sherry looked up at him. “You and Becky are going in the sauna?” Sherry said.

  “Don’t be silly,” Aaron said. “There’s a waiting list.”

  Sherry’s mouth dropped open.

  Aaron pointed his finger. “Gotcha!”

  Don was still carrying on. “You don’t even have the sauna lit? What’s the matter, wife won’t let you? A ballplayer gets married and suddenly all the joys go out the window. Hey, Jackie. Your husband says you won’t let him use the sauna. I’d rethink that. Lying around with naked women is the fastest way off the disabled list.”

  “You can start the sauna if you want, Don, but I can’t promise you any women. You’ll have to scare them up yourself.”

  “Never been a problem,” Don said. “Or was it drinking in the dugout that’s never been a problem? That’s the thing about being a starting pitcher. There’s some days you know you don’t work. Of course in Matt’s case it’s every day. How much are they paying you this year not to pitch?”

  “Why don’t you go fire up the sauna?” Matt said. He was still smiling, but to Cora it seemed a little strained.

  “Let’s see if I can scare up some wood.” Don wandered off in the direction of the sauna bath.

  Cora edged up to Jackie. “Who is that?”

  “Don was Matt’s roommate on the road when they pitched together in the minors. Matt got called up. Don didn’t.”

  “A little over the top, isn’t he?” Cora observed.

  “Matt made it big. Don’s still there. It’s a tough situation. Well, you know. There must be crossword puzzle constructors who resent your fame.”

  Cora was sure there were. She could sympathize with them, since her fame was totally undeserved.

  Jackie smiled. “Don means well, but I always have to watch him, or Matt will wind up on the front page of the Post with a topless dancer in his lap.”

  “Boys will be boys,” Cora said.

  “Yes, they will. But my boy’s news. No one gives a damn what Don does.”

  “Do you think he’ll get the sauna going?”

  “Unless he gets drunk and loses interest. Don just loves to provide fodder for the gossip columns.”

  “My niece’s husband is a reporter for the Gazette, but he doesn’t write gossip.”

  “What does he write?”

  “Real news. Something has to happen for him to write it.”

  “As long as he doesn’t make things happen. That’s the sort of columnist who gives reporters a bad name.”

  Cora glanced around for the gossip columnist, but he didn’t seem to be in evidence. After what Jackie had said, Cora could imagine him pawing through their garbage.

  Over at the pool the witch was out of the water, and the Little Mermaid had taken over the raft. She seemed to be lying in the same pose the witch had. Cora couldn’t wait to needle Sherry about it. She wandered over in that direction.

  Aaron was nowhere in sight. Cora had a panic attack thinking she’d turn around and see him in the hot tub with a topless Becky Baldwin. She spotted him easing his way into a group of men that included Derek Jeter. She wondered if he was angling for an interview. After having assured Jackie Greystone he only wrote hard news, that would be particularly embarrassing.

  Chief Harper wandered by with what appeared to be a gin and tonic, but might also have been a Sprite. Whatever it was, he looked happy. He had also managed to lose his wife. Coincidence? Cora was making no judgments.

  For the first time since she had gotten there, Cora couldn’t see her host. It only impressed itself on her because he had been so aggressively hearty, as if to show everyone he was not bitter, he was a trooper, taking his misfortune in stride.

  Matt’s agent was gone, too, doubtless fending off countless conceivable foes.

  The witch came out of the house. That was interesting, particularly with Matt gone. Had she gone in there to meet Matt? Or to spy on Matt? Or simply to use the bathroom? In which case, where was Matt? Or Jackie, for that m
atter? More people had arrived and it was getting hard to keep track of everyone.

  No sooner had Cora missed her than Jackie bustled up. “Where’s Matt?”

  “I haven’t seen him.”

  “Damn. I turn my back for one minute. Where’s Don?”

  “He went to gather wood. He’s probably in the sauna.”

  “He’s probably off with Matt, and that’s not good. You let those two loonies get together.” Jackie shook her head deploringly.

  “It can’t be as bad as all that.”

  Matt’s agent seemed to think it was. He hurried up, wide-eyed, panicked, on the verge of losing it. “I can’t find Matt. Is he off with Don?”

  “I would say that’s a pretty good bet,” Jackie said.

  “Doesn’t he have any sense at all? That gossip columnist is snooping around.”

  “He’s probably lighting the sauna,” Cora said.

  “You see any smoke coming out of the sauna?”

  “I’ll check it out,” Jackie said. She headed across the lawn.

  Lenny’s eyes widened in alarm. “If Don’s in there naked, don’t go in!”

  “Relax,” Cora said. “Naked men are my specialty.”

  “Huh?”

  “I’ll handle it.” Cora patted the agent on the cheek and set off after her.

  “Oh, my God, she went in!” Lenny said.

  Cora quickened her pace.

  Don came out of the woods with an armload of kindling. He was fully dressed, and not in the sauna. So much for that paranoid fantasy.

  Jackie staggered out of the sauna. The door banged behind her. She clung to the frame, ashen and trembling.

  Don dropped the load of wood and raced to support her. He took her in his arms, held her up.

  Cora pushed by them and flung open the door.

  It was a simple affair, two wooden benches, and an iron stove, the type that heated a stone that you poured water on to make steam.

  The stone was not in its customary place on top of the stove, however.

  The stone had been used to bash in the back of the gossip columnist’s head.

  Chapter

  22

  “I’m not a witness,” Cora said.

  The body had been examined and carted away, the crime scene had been cordoned off, and interrogations were in full swing. Matt Greystone had graciously allowed the police to use his house for the investigation, and questioning was being held in his dining room.