by Parnell Hall
Cora got back in the other room to find Chief Harper giving Matt Greystone a hard time. At least she could infer that from the fact Matt’s agent was on his feet and had moved in between the two of them, and Chief Harper was attempting to placate him.
“You’re too quick to take offense,” Chief Harper said. “Yes, I changed the subject to the murder. The murder took place on this property, and is as yet unsolved. I’m sorry you think it’s unfair I should bring it up, but, trust me, it’s a legitimate topic for conversation.”
“My client clearly doesn’t want to talk about it,” Lenny said.
“I didn’t say I didn’t want to talk about it,” Matt protested.
“You were getting pissed,” Lenny said. “Trust me, I can tell when you’re pissed. And I quite understand it. You haven’t had a particularly easy time.”
“No one’s trying to give anyone a hard time,” Harper said. “We’d love to get out of your hair as soon as possible. Believe me, that’s all I’m trying to do.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Matt Greystone said. “I don’t mean to be cranky, Chief, but I’d feel a lot better about this whole thing if you could come up with any suspect other than my wife.”
Harper sighed. “So would I.”
Chapter
36
“I got another one,” Cora announced.
Sherry looked up from the stove where she was stirring a lamb stew. “Too general. Another boyfriend? Another ex-husband? Another bad habit?”
“Is that nice?”
“Well, if you’re going to set me up like that.”
“I got another crossword puzzle.”
“I think I prefer another bad habit. Actually, bringing me crossword puzzles is getting to be a bad habit.”
“This one has a title.”
“What’s the title?”
“‘Matt.’”
“Uh oh. Where’d you get it?”
“From his wife.”
“And he doesn’t know she’s got it?”
“Well, he was talking to Chief Harper at the time.”
“So Chief Harper doesn’t know she’s got it?”
“Well, I didn’t want to interrupt them.”
“And you’re so hot to do this because it’s a chance to aid a wife who’s holding out on her husband?”
“And a murder suspect,” Cora pointed out.
“Hasn’t Chief Harper come to the conclusion she didn’t do it?”
“Actually, Ratface has come to the conclusion there’s not enough evidence for him to proceed with the prosecution. That doesn’t mean they’ve given up trying.”
“And how did Mrs. Greystone happen to give you this crossword puzzle?”
“When Chief Harper and I went over to see if someone was trying to kill her husband.”
“What?”
Cora filled Sherry in on the automobile accident.
“So now Chief Harper thinks someone’s trying to kill Matt Greystone?”
“Well, someone’s clearly trying to kill someone,” Cora said.
“What do you mean?”
“Matt Greystone hasn’t been driving his car. When he goes out, other people drive him. His wife uses the car from time to time.”
“Oh?”
“Says she likes it. Since he’s not going to be using it, sometimes when she goes out she takes his.”
“Who knew that?”
“You have a keen detecting mind. Who knew that is certainly the question. I would imagine that is a rather select group. With Matt’s agent Lenny at the top of the list.”
“You think Lenny tried to kill his best client? On the surface it makes no sense.”
“Any way you look at it that makes no sense. He’s not going to kill his meal ticket. He may be mad at him for busting up his arm, but that would be a crazy way to show it. On the other hand, he might have a reason to get rid of Matt’s wife. Only thing is, Lenny’s the one who drove it off the road.”
The phone rang.
Sherry snatched it off the wall, said “Hello?… Yeah, she’s here.” She held out the receiver to Cora. “Dan Finley.”
Cora took the phone. “Yes, Dan?”
“I’m down at Hank Farley’s garage. Hank’s got Matt Greystone’s car up on the lift.”
“And?”
“The brake lines have been cut.”
Chapter
37
Cora nearly beat Chief Harper there, which wouldn’t have been good. The chief would have suspected Dan Finley called her first. As it was, she pulled in just behind the chief.
The car was still up on the lift.
Hank Farley came over. The station owner prided himself on his grease stains. Cora couldn’t recall a time she’d seen him without one somewhere on his face. Today it was the bridge of his nose, with highlights on his left cheek.
“You say the brake lines had been cut?” Harper said.
Hank put up his hands. “Hey, I’m not the detective, I’m just the mechanic. I can show you the brake lines. I can show you the cuts halfway through. The conclusion someone made those cuts, that’s your department.”
“Well, can’t you tell it’s not a coincidence?”
“It would be a hell of a coincidence for them to be cut like that on both sides.”
“You told Dan the lines had been cut.”
“Well, sure, then it occurred to me that’s your call to make. I mean, here we are, just speaking casual, I’d say, yeah, the lines have been cut. But if you’re the chief of police and you’re talking all official, you know, like you was gonna put me on the stand, well, I could say I found cut lines, but as to what caused ’em, that would have to be proven beyond a reasonable doubt.”
Chief Harper wheeled on Cora. “Did you call Becky Baldwin?”
“Absolutely not. This man came to his position on his own. Becky’s a smart lawyer, with a lot of tactics, but obfuscation isn’t one of them.”
“Don’t you throw big words at me. It makes me think you’re hiding something.”
“I’m not hiding a damn thing,” Cora said. “Hank Farley, you’ve been watching too many cop shows. I’m not a cop, I’m a private citizen, and we’re just talking here together like two folks. Now, tell me what happened without tripping all over your tongue. The brakes had been cut?”
“Yeah.”
“Deliberately?”
“Isn’t that a legal question?”
“Yeah, but forget that for now. Let me put it another way. Is there any way they could have been cut accidently?”
“No. Look here. See where the line’s sliced halfway through and the brake fluid ran out? Same thing on the other side. You apply the brakes now and nothing’s gonna happen. These lines are worthless. I gotta pull ’em out and replace ’em.” He turned to Chief Harper deferentially. “When you guys say I can.”
“Hold off for now. I’ll give you the go-ahead. You got room to store the car?”
“I can leave it out back.”
“Can you leave it inside?”
“Not while I’m working. I can roll it in at the end of the day.”
“Do that for now,” Harper said. “I may want someone else to see it.”
“I’ll have to charge something for it.”
“That’s fine, as long as it’s reasonable.”
“Now, you and I may have a different idea as to what’s reasonable.”
“Yeah, but we both know what’s highway robbery,” Harper said. “You hang on to the car. If anyone wants to see it who hasn’t already been cleared, you let us know.”
Harper and Cora walked out to their cars.
“You keeping the car as evidence?” Cora said.
“I wasn’t going to till Hank came down with a case of star witness syndrome. Could you imagine him in court? I’m going to have someone look it over who could testify if it ever came to that.”
“Too bad,” Cora said.
Harper frowned. “Why do you say that?”
“It would be fu
n laying odds on whether Hank showed up in court with grease on his face.”
Chapter
38
Cora got back to find Jennifer racing in circles around the lawn. Buddy was gamely attempting to keep up with her. Sherry was sitting in a lawn chair watching the two of them.
“Jennifer woke up from her nap,” Sherry said.
“No nap,” Jennifer said as she raced by.
“Sorry,” Sherry said. “Jennifer’s a big girl, she doesn’t take naps. The nap they weren’t taking was in the playroom downstairs. Jennifer was pretending to be a sleeping dog, and Buddy was pretending to be a human and letting her lie.”
“Yeah, yeah, where’s the puzzle?” Cora said.
“On the kitchen table.”
Cora banged through the screen door and went into the kitchen. The puzzle was in the middle of the kitchen table. Cora snatched it up, looked at it.
The puzzle was blank.
Cora’s face turned red. She stomped out the front door.
“You didn’t solve it.”
“No.”
“Why didn’t you solve it?”
“I don’t need to.”
“Why not?”
“Did you look at it?”
“Yes, I looked at it. It’s an empty grid.”
“Did you look at the clues?”
“I can’t solve the clues.”
“Can you remember them?”
“Huh?”
“You’ve seen them before.”
“What are you talking about?”
“It’s the same puzzle you already gave me. The one that said ‘Untitled.’ Now it’s titled.”
“What?”
“It’s the puzzle that said check the files. Apparently you didn’t make a good job of it, so now they’re telling you whose files to check.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“Well, that’s a conclusion on my part, but it’s a pretty obvious one. Whoever created this puzzle didn’t think you needed a title to figure it out. When you couldn’t, they decided to give you a hint.”
“Yeah, but the puzzle wasn’t for me.”
“Right, right, it was for Matt Greystone. Whose wife immediately gave it to you. Which was to be expected. All puzzles are basically for you.”
“That’s cruel, Sherry.”
“I know.”
“I don’t understand. I already searched the witch’s files. I already found the file marked ‘Matt.’”
“You didn’t look at it.”
“I couldn’t look at it, and now it’s gone. Telling me to look at it is not particularly useful.”
“You also found Matt’s files at the gossip columnist’s office.”
“Yeah.”
“And you looked at them. Right here on our computer. By virtue of your stolen memory card.”
“Are you wearing a wire?”
“Pay attention.”
“It’s hard when you keep throwing out felonies you want me to casually admit to.”
“The point is you got a puzzle saying check his files. You checked the witch’s files. You checked Leon Bratz’s computer files. You found files referring to Matt and you checked them. After that you get another copy of the puzzle telling you to check Matt’s files.”
“What’s your point?”
“Obviously you checked the wrong files. The puzzle maker’s not going to let you get away with that. It’s like the puzzle maker saying, no, idiot, you checked the wrong files.”
“So?” Cora said.
Sherry cocked her head. “Didn’t Leon Bratz also have a file cabinet?”
Chapter
39
“Well,” Cora said, “this is certainly not the first time I’ve ever cheated on a man I was involved with, but I believe it’s the first time I’ve ever done it with a woman.”
“I’m happy to broaden your horizon,” Stephanie said.
Stephanie and Cora had been friends ever since they’d met. Or at least since shortly after they first met. The meeting had been a shock to Cora, who wasn’t aware that Sergeant Crowley, with whom she’d been involved, was also involved with another woman, and it had taken her awhile to adjust to the fact. Not to dealing with another woman, Cora was quite adept at that, but actually becoming acquainted with the other woman. Stephanie was the first other woman Cora had liked, and the experience was eye-opening.
It occurred to Cora the other other women she’d encountered had all been when she was still drinking, which put a different slant on it. Her tolerance when drinking was not particularly high.
“At least as far as I know I never cheated with a woman. I used to drink a lot, and I imagine the telltale signs are few. You don’t wake up pregnant, for instance.”
“Has that ever happened to you?”
“Not as far as I know. Of course some of the past is a bit of a blur. The seventies, for instance.”
“You missed disco?”
“For the most part. I remember the Bee Gees, but that’s about it.”
“Can’t you name another disco artist?”
“Well, if you’re going to start in on the oxymorons.”
Stephanie and Cora were in a taxi riding uptown from the West Village. Sergeant Crowley had come home to his Greenwich Village apartment, hoisted a few bourbons, and passed out on the couch. Stephanie had lifted his keys and met Cora at Sheridan Square. They’d planned to take the subway, but Cora was too keyed up to wait and hailed a cab.
The cab pulled up on the corner. Stephanie hopped out while Cora paid the fare.
“Okay, where is it?” Stephanie said.
“The brownstone in the middle of the block.”
“They’re all brownstones.”
“The one with the dead man’s office.”
Stephanie gave Cora a look and followed her up the block to the front door of the brownstone.
“Okay, whiz kid, do your stuff.”
“Hey, I just lift the keys,” Stephanie said. “I don’t know how to use ’em.”
“Here, I’ll show you,” Cora said. She took the keys, held them up, and stuffed them in her drawstring purse. “You put them where they won’t get in your way, and turn the doorknob.”
Cora pushed the door open.
Stephanie gave her a look.
Cora smiled. “Hey, your boyfriend taught me that move. It’s the next lock that’s trouble.”
They went up the stairs. Cora stopped in front of Leon Bratz’s office door. She jerked the keys out of her purse, began rifling around the ring.
“Now, if I can remember what it looked like. Let’s see. It was shaped like this.” Cora tried it. “Not that one. Not this one, either. Third time’s the charm? No. All right, we’re eliminating possibilities.”
They eliminated five more before one turned the lock. Cora opened the door and they went in.
“Now then,” Cora said, “we turn the lights on like we have every right to be here, which we certainly do. And we have a sergeant’s keys to prove it.”
“He will not appreciate being cited as our authorization,” Stephanie said.
“If he kicks you out, I got room at my place.”
“In Connecticut? I run a shop in the Village,” Stephanie said.
“So let’s not get caught. Okay, the computer files are worthless. We need to get into the file cabinet.”
“Do we have a key that fits?”
“Sure, and the file we’re looking for probably bestows immortality. The problem here is your boyfriend’s seen these files. He knows what shape this cabinet was in when he wrapped the crime scene ribbon around it. He would know it had been broken into, and he would raise the alarm.”
“Yes,” Stephanie said, “but when he let you in here earlier—that wasn’t official, was it? He didn’t notify anyone, did he? He just used his keys to get in.”
“You’re saying he couldn’t claim the file cabinet hadn’t been broken into before without admitting he broke into the office?”
�
�Isn’t that the situation?”
“I wish I brought a crowbar,” Cora said.
She did pretty well with the screwdriver she found in one of Bratz’s desk drawers. The decedent might have had it to hook up some of the electronic equipment in his office, but Cora had a sneaking suspicion he’d used it for mounting microphones and spy cams.
Cora made a mess of the file drawer. It occurred to her it was very much like the mess she’s made of the witch’s file drawer, but there was nothing she could do about that.
“All right,” she said as the drawer popped open, “please, God, let the files be alphabetical.”
God didn’t choose to answer that prayer. Of course Cora couldn’t remember the last time she’d been in church without getting married. At any rate, the files were a mess. Many of the papers weren’t in folders at all. Some were in the hanging dividers that would have held folders, had Leon been that organized. The dividers were stuffed to capacity, gave the impression that papers had been stuck in willy-nilly.
Cora pulled out a bulging divider, handed it to Stephanie. “Here you go. Have a ball.”
Stephanie flopped it down on the desk. “Okay, what are we looking for?”
“Anything that might get him dead.”
“That much I know.”
“You’re looking for any mention of Matt Greystone. That would do for a start. I have to believe he’d rate his own file. Also any mention of his wife, Jackie, who’d surely rate her own file, too.”
“If she had one. You said he never printed anything about her.”
“He never printed anything, but he wrote about her. It’s all along the lines of ‘what superstar Yankees pitcher who just signed a monster contract extension should keep better track of his wife.’”
Stephanie was already leafing through the folder.
“Also any photos that you find. I don’t think he used them in his articles, and he must have had a reason for taking them.”
“I haven’t found any yet,” Stephanie said.
“Just sayin’.”
Cora continued pawing through the file drawer, looking for a likely folder. Nothing jumped out at her. She reached her hand into the cabinet, popped open the catch for the next drawer. She pulled it out and whistled.
