Last Puzzle & Testament
Page 8
“Well, there you are.” Philip Hurley rolled his eyes at Arthur Kincaid. “Your ‘expert’ is no help, so you tell me. How do I win this game?”
“I don’t know,” Arthur Kincaid replied. “But I can make a suggestion. You have one piece of the puzzle here. I suggest you take it, go away, and work on it. Perhaps solving it will tell you what to do next. Perhaps it won’t. But in the meantime, Cora Felton will solve it. So, if you’re not clear what to do, you call her and ask her.”
“As if she’d know,” Philip Hurley snorted.
“Philip, don’t be rude,” his wife, Ethel, said.
“Rude, hell,” Philip shot back. “Fifteen million smackeroos at stake, she’s drunk, and nobody knows what to do. And I’m rude?”
In a lifetime of hard drinking, there was nothing that sobered Cora Felton up faster than someone calling her drunk.
“I know what to do,” Cora said. “I don’t know about you, but I’m solving this puzzle.”
Her declaration might have sounded more convincing if she hadn’t slurred her words; still it was enough to spur the heirs into action.
Philip and Phyllis Hurley looked at each other, and turned to the lawyer.
“Give me one,” Philip said.
“Hey, I was first,” Phyllis said.
“Were not,” Philip said.
“Now, now, don’t push. There’s enough for everyone,” Arthur Kincaid said, handing them grids and clues. “And here’s a set for you, Daniel. And one for Annabel.” He handed sets to the bearded youth and the flat-faced woman. “And one for you, Chester.” He held a set out to the old man with bad teeth.
Chester Hurley made no move to take the pages. He stood with his hands folded over the bib of his overalls, and snorted contemptuously. “Stupid game.”
“You don’t have to play if you don’t want to,” Arthur Kincaid srth
“Damn right, I don’t,” Chester Hurley said. “I don’t have to do anything. I’ll take this because Emma wanted me to. Why, I don’t know, but she did, so I will. But that don’t mean I’m gonna play.”
Chester Hurley stomped across the beautiful old bedroom in his work boots, snatched the grid and clues from the lawyer. “Come on, Annabel,” he said to the woman with the flat face. “You want a ride, let’s go. I’m gettin’ out of here.”
But he stopped in the doorway. “Stupid game,” he repeated, and ushered Annabel out the door.
The remaining heirs all looked at each other for a moment, then turned and bolted for the door.
Only Daniel Hurley lagged behind. “I gotta go along with the old man,” he said. He chuckled, shook his head. “Stupid, stupid game.”
“Oh, my head,” Cora groaned, as they drove away from the Hurley mansion.
“Could you look a little less like you’re dying?” Sherry asked. “There’s cars behind us.”
“Who?”
“The banker, for one.”
“Banker? What banker?”
“Aunt Cora, how much of what just happened actually registered?”
“Don’t be disrespectful.” Cora Felton jerked her thumb at herself. “I’m the judge!” She smiled, then frowned and looked puzzled. “What am I judging?”
“Aunt Cora.”
“No, no, I remember. Some whacko puzzle.” She frowned again. “Why am I judging a puzzle? I thought there was a murder.”
“There may be a murder. It could be accidental.”
“What could be accidental?”
“The drunk died in a drainage ditch.”
“The dr—That’s a tongue twister. You mean it’s not a murder?” Cora sounded disappointed.
“We don’t know. But right now we need to concentrate on the puzzle.”
“Whacko puzzle.”
“You know you’re getting paid for judging this puzzle?”
“I am?”
“Yes, you are vrth" align="j. You mean you missed that part too?”
“It’s a trifle fuzzy. How much am I getting paid?”
“Fifty thousand dollars.”
Cora Felton’s mouth fell open. “Did you say fifty dollars?”
“Fifty thousand dollars.”
“Fifty thousand? Sherry, can you solve the puzzle?”
“I don’t know. I don’t have all the clues.”
“You don’t have all the clues?”
“Cora, don’t you remember anything?”
“It’s a little vague. What about the clues you’ve got?”
“I haven’t had time to look at them.”
“Look at them now.”
“I’m driving the car.”
“I’ll drive, you look.”
“Not on your life.”
Sherry drove on, ignoring Cora’s protests.
At the gas station on the edge of town Sherry saw a motorcycle parked by one of the pumps. Daniel Hurley stood next to it talking to Becky Baldwin, who had pulled up alongside.
Sherry frowned. By rights, Daniel should be working on his great-aunt’s puzzle, not talking to a lawyer. And why was Becky talking to him? Wasn’t she leaving town? After all, her client was dead now. Sherry had to tell herself it was none of her business.
Sherry drove home, parked the car in the drive, shook Cora Felton awake, and wrestled her inside.
“Sherry,” Cora said. “Thank goodness it’s you. You gotta help me. Someone’s dead, and there’s a puzzle.”
“There certainly is,” Sherry muttered. She dragged Cora into the office, flopped her in a chair, and sat down at the computer.
“What are you doing?” Cora said. “You’ve gotta work on the puzzle.”
“I am working on the puzzle.”
Sherry moved the mouse and clicked on the Crossword Compiler icon. “This is how I work.”
A blank crossword-puzzle grid filled the screen. A fifteen-by-fifteen grid of all-white squares. Sherry began to re-create the grid from Emma Hurley’s puzzle on her screen. When she was finished, she had a grid exactly like the one on the piece of paper Cora had received from Arthur Kincaid.
She propped {>Shper Cora hthe clues up below it.
ACROSS
1. Italian village
6.____ fall
13. WWII vessel
14. Sharpen
16. Place to woo?
19. Affirmative
20. Ages
23. Useful quality
DOWN
1. Ricardo
2. Woodwind
3. Entre ____ (fr)
4. Tibetan town
5. Swear
6. Call
7. Deckhand
8. R.S.V.P.
9. Youth
17. Stockings
Cora Felton peered over her shoulder. “Can you solve it?”
“I should think so,” Sherry said. “In the first place, it’s a quadrant.”
“A what?”
“It’s a quarter of the puzzle. All of the clues are from the upper-left quadrant. There are no clues from the other three quarters of the grid.”
“Huh?”
“Tell you later,” Sherry said. “Anyway, it’s only a quarter of Emma Hurley’s puzzle. I assume I can solve it. But what good will that do?”
“You got anything yet?”
“Sure. Six across. Blank fall has to be prat.”
“Great. You’re practically done.” Cora put her arm around Sherry’s shoulders, leaned on her heavily. The odor of stale Bloody Mary was overpowering. “What else have you got?”
“It’s hard to concentrate with you bugging me.”
“Hey. Let’s remember who’s the judge.”
“Okay, Judge. Let’s make a deal. Division of labor. I’ll solve the puzzle. You get sober enough to tell people you solved it.”
“Well, I like that,” Cora said. She hiccuped, clapped her hand to her mouth. “Oops. On second thought, maybe I could make some coffee.” She peered over Sherry’s shoulder at the grid and chuckled.
Sherry looked at her in annoyance. “What’s so
funny?”
“I was just wondering.”
“What?”
“How our heirs are doing.”
“Come on, come on, read me the clues,” Phyllis Hurley Applegate snarled as she sped along the narrow country road.
~>Shpegate sn01C;Slow down!” her husband squeaked. “What good will it do to solve the puzzle if you kill us all?”
“I’m not going to kill us all. I just got a little excited and drove in the wrong direction. It could have happened to anyone.”
“Of course it could. Now slow down.”
“And let Philip get ahead? No way. Read me the clues.”
“You have to concentrate on your driving.”
“I can concentrate.”
“Phyllis.”
“Read me the clues or I’ll grab that darn paper and read ’em myself.”
“Okay, okay. Give me a minute.”
“Are there blanks?”
“Huh?”
“I thought I saw clues with blanks. If there’s any clues with blanks, start with them. They’re easier.”
“Yes, there’s two blanks. Six across. Blank fall.”
“Waterfall.”
“No, it’s four letters.”
“Why didn’t you say so?”
“I’m saying so. Blank fall. Four letters.”
“I don’t know. Any others?”
“Yeah. Three down. Entre blank. Four letters. And it’s French.”
“French?”
“It says fr. Doesn’t that mean French?”
“How should I know. You think I do crossword puzzles?”
“Well, that’s the clue. Entre blank. You know what that is?”
“You have any damn clues in English?”
“One across. Italian village.”
“Italian village?”
“That’s what it says.”
“I said in English.”
“The clue’s in English.”
“The answer isn’t. What else have you got?”
“Thirteen across. World War II vessel. Five letters.”
“World War II, for cryin’ out loud!”
“Phyllis, I didn’t write these clues. I’m just reading them.”
“Well, you’re not making me happy.”
“I know. And, Phyllis …”
“Yes?”
“There’s some other clues aren’t going to please you much.”
“Such as?”
“Four down. Tibetan town. Three letters.”
“Oh, for goodness sakes.”
They were hurtling down the main street in town. Phyllis Applegate slammed on the brakes, skidded to a stop in front of the police station, waved the car behind her around, made a U-turn, and pulled up in front of the Bakerhaven library.
“Phyllis!” Morty shrieked. “You just made a U-turn in front of the cops.”
“Big deal. There’s no one there.” Phyllis Applegate jerked the door open and got out of the car, cutting short her husband’s protests. “Come on, you want Philip to beat us?”
“What are we doing here?”
“You know a three-letter word for Tibetan town?”
“No.”
“Neither do I. Let’s go.”
Edith Potter the librarian looked up expectantly when the front door opened, but Phyllis Applegate ignored her, glanced around, and declared, “Oh, there’s the reading room,” in a voice loud enough to make Edith wince. Phyllis pushed by the front desk, stalked to the table, took out the puzzle and clues, and announced, “Let’s get organized. First off, let’s make a list of anything we need to look up.”
An old man with a newspaper cast an evil eye in her direction and said, “Shhh!”
Phyllis Applegate took no notice. “Start in on the Italian village. If we get that, it will help with the Tibetan town.”
Edith Potter appeared in the doorway. “I will have to ask you to keep the noise down. People are trying to read.”
“Sure, sure, lady.” Phyllis did not lower her voice one decibel. “Listen, where do you look stuff up?”
“Stuff?”
“Stuff you need to know. Like a town in Tibet. Stuff like that. Where would you find it?”
“If you keep your voice down, I can help you. If you’re going to be e g
“We’ll be quiet as mice,” Phyllis Applegate vowed, raising her voice for emphasis.
Edith Potter rolled her eyes and went and flushed her son, Jimmy, from the stacks, where he was at work shelving books. A tall, gawky boy of college age, Jimmy Potter had always been a little slow, but was a diligent worker, and loved to have a task.
“They want me to look stuff up?” Jimmy said.
“Yes,” Edith Potter said. “Help them look stuff up, but try to keep them quiet. Make sure they don’t disturb the other people in the reading room.”
“Okay, Mom,” Jimmy Potter said. And he certainly had the best of intentions. But when he saw they were working on a crossword puzzle, he completely forgot, and spoke right out loud. “Crossword,” he exclaimed, and grinned a big grin. “You’re working on a puzzle? Wow. Just like the lady on TV.”
“Who?” Phyllis Applegate scowled.
“The Puzzle Lady on TV. Didn’t you ever see her? She’s right here in town, you know.”
Phyllis Applegate nodded grimly. “Yeah, kid. We know.”
Daniel Hurley dumped cream in his coffee and pushed the pitcher across the table. Becky Baldwin added cream to her coffee, regarded him with interest.
Becky Baldwin was not used to men like Daniel Hurley. She was used to men who would defer to her sex, would make a point of offering her the pitcher first. The fact that he hadn’t intrigued her.
It seemed absolutely casual. Just two people having coffee. He takes some cream, and offers her some. Treating her as an equal with no ulterior motive.
Or he takes cream first deliberately, as a calculated display of flouting the conventions.
Or he is merely young, stupid, boorish, and doesn’t know any better.
Becky Baldwin peered at the man behind the beard, tried to determine which.
“You asked me for coffee,” Becky Baldwin reminded him.
“Yes, I did,” Daniel Hurley said. He raised his cup. “Cheers.”
Becky Baldwin took a sip of the coffee, which was rather bad, evoking memories of the diner from her high school years. “Thank you. I just wonder how you can take the time.”
“You mean when there’s a puzzle to be solved?”
“Exactly. The other relatives took off like there was no tomorrow. I’m sure they’re all working on it now. Ath="nd here you sit, having coffee.”
“And rather bad coffee at that,” Daniel Hurley said. “You might have warned me. Or haven’t you eaten here before?”
“Not in years. I would have thought by now they’d washed the pot.”
“That’s even worse,” Daniel said, “if this place is so bad you haven’t been here in years.”
“It’s not like I’ve been avoiding it. I’ve been away at law school.”
“Oh, that’s right. You’re a lawyer.” He frowned. “So, what brings you back to town?”
“Actually, I’m on my way to Boston. I just stopped off to see my folks.”
“Oh? So you’re staying with them?”
“Yeah. They have a house on Chestnut, just off Glen.”
Daniel shrugged. “Wherever that is. I’m in a bed-and-breakfast up the street.”
“Stone Mill Inn?”
“That’s the place.”
“What did the Walanders think of the motorcycle?”
“That’s their name? I don’t think they saw my bike until after I signed the register.”
“They saw you, didn’t they?”
“Yes, they did,” Daniel Hurley agreed. “But they couldn’t think of a reason not to rent to me. I bet they would have loved to be able to say the place was full.”
“Uh huh,” Becky Baldwin said. “So what do you do when you’re not i
nheriting millions?”
“Well put,” Daniel Hurley said. “You’re right, I’m a bum, guilty as charged. I have no money. I drift from job to job.”
“You’ve got a pretty neat motorcycle.”
“Dad had some insurance. Don’t ask me why. No car, no house, no possessions to speak of. And yet, a life insurance policy. Not large, but welcome. I immediately invested the money in a tangible expression of Father’s accomplishments.”
“Uh huh,” Becky Baldwin said again. She took a sip of coffee, grimaced. “All right, you’ve waited me out. I can’t take it any longer. You gonna look at the puzzle or not?”
“Is that why you agreed to have coffee with me?”
“Come on, give me a break,” Becky said. “I don’t know if I’m supposed to find this intriguing or what, but, frankly, your calnkl1C;Comculated indifference is getting on my nerves. Yes, I want to see the puzzle. I can’t imagine why you don’t want to see the puzzle.”
“Okay,” Daniel said. He fished two folded sheets of paper from the back pocket of his jeans. “Here you go.”
Becky Baldwin smoothed the pages out on the table in front of her, and studied them eagerly.
Daniel Hurley watched her with some amusement. “So,” he said, “you get anything?”
“Lucy.”
“Huh?”
“One down is Lucy.”
“Are you sure?”
She pointed. “The clue is Ricardo. So it’s Lucy. From I Love Lucy. Lucy Ricardo.”
“Why does it have to be Lucy? It could be Desi.”
“No, it couldn’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s not Desi Ricardo. It’s Desi Arnaz. It’s Ricky Ricardo. And Lucy Ricardo. And Lucille Ball. If the clue was Arnaz, it could be Desi. And if it had five letters, it could be Ricky. But a four-letter Ricardo has got to be Lucy. See?”
Daniel shrugged. “Puzzles were never my thing.”
“Really? Then how do you expect to win?”
“I don’t know,” Daniel Hurley replied pleasantly. “But I do know this. What I have here is only the first piece of the puzzle. So solving this, big deal. When someone solves this we’ll find out the next piece of the puzzle.”