by Parnell Hall
“And who would that be?”
“Annabel Hurley. Told me about the will. Just yesterday afternoon.”
“Annabel Hurley was in here?”
“Large as life. Told me about Mildred Sims. I was glad to hear it. Fine woman, Mildred. Hardworking. Long-suffering. Deserves every penny she got.”
“I’m sure she does,” Cora Felton said. “What did Annabel Hurley come in for?”
“First-class stamps, same as you. Why do you ask?”
“Oh, no reason,” Cora said. “It’s just, well, so many things happened yesterday. The heirs heard the will, and found out about the puzzle, and got the set of clues. I don’t know, you’d think an heir would be too busy to be buying stamps.”
“I know what you mean.” Betty Roston nodded. “But Annabel said she’s not playing.”
“Oh?”
“She said she doesn’t do crossword puzzles. They bore her to tears. And she’s not after Emma’s money, she’s just interested to see how it all comes out.”
“That’s quite a way to feel about it.”
“Isn’t it? Though, in her case, I suppose it’s true.”
“Uh huh,” Cora said. “I don’t suppose any other heirs were around here yesterday?”
“Not that I noticed,” Betty Roston replied. “Of course, you wouldn’t expect them to be.”
Cora Felton nodded. “I certainly wouldnain x2019;t.”
“What was that all about?” Sherry said as they drove away from the post office.
“Is that the envelope?”
“Sure is.”
“Clues in it?”
“Sure are.”
“You look at ’em yet?”
“Just enough to make sure that’s what they were.”
“What’s twenty-seven down?”
Sherry smiled. “Why, Cora, I’m impressed. You’ve actually paid enough attention to know twenty-seven down is the next long clue.”
“So what is it?”
“Close recycling place, so to speak?”
“So to speak? What the hell does that mean?”
“I won’t know till I solve it.”
“And what about close. Is that close as in shut down?”
“Right.”
“Really? Wouldn’t that be a verb?”
“Aunt Cora, you’re getting better and better. I bet you could solve this whole thing yourself.”
“Oh, stop it. Puzzles aren’t my thing. Mysteries are. And look what’s happened here.”
“What’s happened here?”
“Annabel Hurley was in the post office yesterday afternoon. Where she had no right to be.”
“But if she’s not playing the puzzle …”
“Do you buy that? I don’t. I hate puzzles, and I can’t help trying to solve this one. And I don’t stand to inherit umpty million dollars for doing it. No, the only way this makes sense to me is if Annabel Hurley isn’t working on the puzzle because she already knows all about it.”
“And how would she know that?”
“Because Emma Hurley took her into her confidence.”
“Oh, come on.”
“What’s wrong with that? It had to be someone. Emma Hurley’s laid up; she can’t move. She has this elaborate plan to set up. ainem" alignShe needs someone to do her legwork. Why not a close relative living in town?”
“But if they were estranged …”
“What makes you think they were?”
“The way Annabel Hurley talked about her. How Emma pretended to be this paragon of virtue but she really wasn’t, she was scheming and cunning.”
“Right,” Cora said. “But that was all in the past.”
“Huh?”
“That was forty years ago. When Emma Hurley came into the money. By tricking her father into thinking she was something she wasn’t. That doesn’t mean Annabel feels the same way now.”
Sherry sighed. Sometimes life seemed more complicated than puzzles.
Cora Felton reached over, tapped the manila envelope.
“When Annabel Hurley was in the post office yesterday afternoon, I bet you a nickel she was planting these clues.”
“I thought your theory was the lawyer planted the clues.”
“Yeah, but I could be wrong.”
“No kidding.”
Cora Felton turned into the service station on the outskirts of town.
“We need gas?” Sherry asked.
“No, I’m just stopping a second.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m having a thought.”
“You don’t wanna get home and work on these clues?”
“I think this might be more important. If Annabel Hurley planted these clues, it kind of all fits.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Sherry said.
“Why not? It explains why she’s not working on the puzzle.”
“But not what she said about it. Which was, that she doesn’t understand it because Emma Hurley didn’t do crossword puzzles.”
“Right,” Cora said. “That’s one of the things that makes me know she and Emma Hurley were close.”
“Yeah, but it’s not just that,” Sherry argued. “Didn’t she also tell you to scrutinize the crossword puzzle very carefully because she can’t believe there can’t be more to it than just a simple solution? If Annabel was in league with Emma Hurley, wouldn’t she know all about the puzzle?”
“Not nec#x2n jessarily. Emma Hurley may have given her instructions on planting the clues without telling her what the puzzle meant.” Cora sounded quite certain of her theory: her eyes were bright with satisfaction.
“Then why isn’t she playing the game?”
“That was part of the deal. She’s Emma Hurley’s secret accomplice, so she has to stay out of it.”
“But why would she do that? Screw herself out of all that money? By not playing she doesn’t get any more than anybody else.”
“She doesn’t get any more now,” Cora Felton said.
“What do you mean?”
“What was to stop Emma Hurley from giving her something before she died? For all we know, the woman already got a million bucks and is walking around laughing at everyone.”
“Then what was last night all about?”
“Exactly what I said. Annabel was taken into Emma’s confidence, but only to an extent. She may or may not know the solution to the puzzle, but even if she does, she doesn’t know squat about what it means. And she’s desperate to know. Not for any material gain. Just to know.”
“Fine,” Sherry said. “Maybe you’re right. Now, would you mind telling me what we’re doing in this gas station?”
Cora put the car in gear, drove past the pumps to the phone booth on the far side of the lot.
“I wonder if there’s a phone book,” Cora said.
There was. It had a listing for an Annabel Hurley at 14 Green Street.
“Where’s Green Street?” Sherry asked.
“Back near the post office.”
“You know Green Street?”
“No, but it figures. Annabel said she saw us in the window when she walked by the restaurant. She probably lives real near.”
She did. Green Street was two blocks from the post office, and ran parallel to Main Street. Fourteen Green Street was three blocks down.
It was an insurance company.
The two-story frame house had doubtless at one time been a private home, but a wooden sign by the front door read BECKER & TAYLOR INSURANCE.
“Are you sure this is the right address?” Sherry said.
“No, I’m not. But it’s the one in the phone book. Maybe there’s a side entrance.”
There wasn’t, but there was one in the back. A wooden door with glass windowpanes. Through them Sherry and Co Sh">
To the right of the door was a metal mailbox with the name A. HURLEY. Underneath the mailbox was a bell. Cora Felton pressed the button decisively. They heard the chime ring upstairs.
“You suppose it’s like New Yo
rk and they buzz you in?” Cora said.
“I would tend to doubt it.”
“Then she’ll have to come downstairs. It’s barely eight A.M. If she’s still in bed, she won’t be happy.”
“She won’t be happy anyway,” Sherry said. “We could have called first.”
“I didn’t want to give her time to make up a story.” Cora pushed the button again. “Miffed, I can handle. I prefer not to be lied to.”
They waited several seconds. There was no response. Cora pushed the bell again.
“Maybe she went out to breakfast,” Sherry said.
“It’s pretty early.”
“We’re up.”
“Yes, but we had a reason.”
“Maybe she did too.”
Cora rang the bell one more time. She pressed her ear to the door, listened, reached out, and tried the doorknob.
“What are you doing?” Sherry said, her heart sinking.
The door clicked open.
“I can’t get used to country living,” Cora said. “The woman doesn’t even lock her door.”
“Yeah, because no one barges in on her,” Sherry said. “And we’re not about to.”
“No, we’re not,” Cora agreed sweetly. “I’ll go in alone. You stay here, warn me if someone comes.”
“That’s not what I meant—” Sherry began, but Cora was already pushing the door open. Ahead of her was the narrow stairs.
Cora turned back to Sherry. “If someone comes, push the bell. If it’s her, ring twice.”
Cora closed the door and went up the stairs.
At the top was a tiny kitchen with a pantry alcove and a breakfast nook. It was immaculately clean. There were no dishes in the sink, or even on the drain board. Everything from the last meal had been put away.
Cora Felton moved from the kitchen into the living room, or what Annabel Hurley undoubtedly referred to as the parlor. The couches were period pieces, as was the coffee table. The entertainmehe ovent unit consisted of an ancient wooden radio console. It stood on the floor to the right of the Victorian love seat, which was upholstered in red velvet. There were lace doilies on the arms of the couches and chairs. There was no sign of a magazine, book, newspaper, or any personal object in the room.
Except for two sheets of paper on the coffee table. Cora Felton picked these up. One was the first set of clues. The other was the crossword-puzzle grid. It was empty.
Cora Felton put the papers back on the coffee table, and continued her search of the apartment.
The bedroom was a marked contrast from the parlor. Though not large, it was a hodgepodge of styles. Bureaus, bookshelves, end tables, a wardrobe, all strewn with clothes, books, papers, reading glasses, jewelry boxes, a sewing kit, an umbrella stand, hatboxes, shoe boxes, cardboard cartons, a metal trunk.
The clutter, though extensive, was not enough to obscure the body of Annabel Hurley lying in the middle of the floor.
Chief Harper put his hands on his hips and scowled at Cora Felton and Sherry Carter, who were standing in front of Becker & Taylor Insurance. “You want to tell me how you came to find the corpse?”
“I told you on the phone,” Cora said.
“All you said was you went to see the woman and she was dead.”
“Well, that’s what happened.”
Chief Harper’s scowl deepened. “Don’t try my patience. I got a woman up there with her throat cut. I don’t need Quincy to tell me it’s a homicide. I got a crime scene to cover that I’m ill-staffed to do. Dan Finley’s up there taking pictures with his Polaroid till he runs out of film. After that, we’ll have to wait until the drugstore opens before he can take any more. But when he’s finally done, I gotta process the place for fingerprints. Right now I am wondering how many of them will be yours.”
Cora Felton looked pained. “Give me a break, Chief. It’s not as if I knew the woman was dead.”
“No, of course not. You just walked in on her uninvited expecting to find her alive.”
“That’s not what happened.”
“Oh? You expected to find her dead?”
“I didn’t expect anything.”
“Then what, may I ask, were you doing in that woman’s home?”
Before Cora could answer, Sherry Carter jumped in. “Excuse me, Chief, but I think my aunt’s a little shaken at finding a dead body. I think maybe I could explain.”
“I think maybe you better. But let me warn you, tI chis one’s gonna take a hell of an explanation.”
Sherry Carter told Chief Harper about Annabel Hurley crashing in on their dinner, and then turning out to have been in the post office the same afternoon.
Chief Harper was skeptical. “That’s it? That’s all you had to go on?”
“Actually, it’s quite a lot,” Sherry said. “The woman’s turned her back on the money and isn’t playing the game. But she wants to know the answer. And she comes and asks Cora to be careful to get it right. She seems to have inside information the other heirs don’t have. Which makes it likely she was in league with Emma Hurley. We know someone was in league with Emma Hurley because Emma Hurley wasn’t healthy enough to have personally planted the clues. If Annabel planted the clues, then everything fits.”
“So why is she dead?”
“She was on to something. Something that had to do with the inheritance. How, exactly, I don’t know. I’m not saying that’s why she’s dead. I’m just saying that’s a fact.”
“She talk to anyone else last night besides you?”
“Obviously, since she’s dead. But I don’t know who she talked to.”
“She mention talking to anybody else?”
Sherry hesitated.
Chief Harper pounced. “What is it?”
“Well, now, to be perfectly fair, she didn’t mention talking to anyone.”
“But?”
“She asked where Daniel Hurley was staying.”
“Did you tell her?”
“We didn’t know.”
A Volvo drove up and the trim figure of Barney Nathan stepped out. The coroner cocked his head at Chief Harper. “All right. Where is it?”
Chief Harper pointed. “Down the alley, up the back stairs. If you could keep your hands in your pockets, we still have to process for fingerprints.”
“Oh, gee, thanks,” Barney Nathan said witheringly. “I’ve never seen a crime scene before.”
He took his black bag out of the car and stomped on down the alley.
A police car pulled up and Sam Brogan got out. The cranky Bakerhaven officer was chewing a fat wad of gum. As usual, he looked unhappy. He stepped up on the sidewalk, said, “What’s this I hear Annabel Hurley’s dead?”
“You hear right,” Chief Harper said. “Get a crime scene ribbon, string it across the mouth of this alley bf t height=efore people start getting curious.”
“She lives there?”
“You didn’t know that?”
“Never dated her.” Sam Brogan stroked his mustache, popped his gum. “Am I on the clock?”
“It’s a homicide, Sam.”
“This is not my shift.”
“You’re on the clock. Go string that ribbon.”
Chief Harper turned back to Sherry and Cora. “Okay, you’ve had time to think. What were you doing in that apartment?”
“I told you what I was doing,” Cora said.
“Yeah, and you made my day. I need something I can tell the press. Aaron Grant’s gonna be here any minute, and I don’t like your story at all.”
“It’s not a story. It’s what happened.”
“That may be, but it’s not good. You were basically breaking and entering.”
“The door was unlocked.”
“That’s irrelevant. You had no right whatsoever to go in there.”
“Maybe not, but you’re lucky I did. If I hadn’t you wouldn’t know she’s dead. No one would have known till she failed to show up at the lawyer’s office this morning. Even then it would have been a while before anyone bother
ed to look. As it is, the doctor’s up there now, you got a good chance to nail the time of death, and you’re getting the clues while they’re fresh.”
“Second only to you,” Chief Harper pointed out. “Speaking of clues, these puzzle clues you’re talking about. The ones you think Annabel Hurley might have planted. If they’re as important as you say, they’re evidence.”
“Of what?”
“I don’t know, but if her death had anything to do with ’em, they’re evidence.”
“Fine, Chief,” Cora Felton said nonchalantly. “You take ’em, you solve it. Save me the trouble.”
Chief Harper opened his mouth, closed it again. “All right, you win. I want to know what this puzzle is all about. I want to know where the next set of clues are planted.”
“I thought you might.”
“Well, do you know? Have you worked it out yet?”
“I told you. I just got it.”
“But you think you know the clue for the location. Because thuseu. I juse one clue was post office, the other clue was courthouse. And the long clue this time is what?”
“I don’t recall.”
“Refresh your memory,” Chief Harper said sarcastically.
Cora Felton opened her car, took out the manila envelope. She unclasped it, slid out one of the clue sheets.
“Close recycling place, so to speak?
“I beg your pardon?”
“Take a look.” She held the clue sheet up, pointed out the clue.
“Recycling place?” Chief Harper said. “What’s a recycling place? And what would it mean to close one?”
“I have no idea,” Cora said. “I’d have to get some of the other words going across.”
“Can you do that now?”
“Not on your life. I just saw a bloody corpse. That may be routine to you, Mister Police Officer, but I am somewhat shook up. And all you want to do is gripe about the fact I found it.”
“All right. But you’re gonna solve the puzzle this morning.”
“Not the whole puzzle. I still don’t have all the clues.”
“I mean the part you have. In particular the one about the recycling place. You’ll be solving that today.”
“Thanks for your vote of confidence, Chief.” Cora Felton looked at her watch. “By the time we’re done here I think we’ll be due at the lawyer’s.”
