by Parnell Hall
“You’re kidding.”
“Get out of the car.”
Becky slipped out of the driver’s seat. “What’s the matter?”
“My arm’s trapped. I need you to help pull the metal back so I can reach the money.”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake.” Becky grabbed the plate, pulled.
Cora’s arm was numb. It took a second to realize she was free. She reached deeper into the gas pump. Her hand hit a solid sheet of metal. The bottom of the panel.
“Damn.”
“What?”
“It’s not there.”
“What?”
Cora pulled her arm out. “It’s not there.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
“Maybe it was the other pump.”
“No, it was this pump.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
Cora moved to the other pump, started prying at the panel.
“What are you doing?”
“Checking the other pump.”
“I thought you were sure.”
“I am sure. I’ll be more sure after I check the pump.”
“Then you’re not sure.”
“I’m sure. Help me bend the damn panel.”
The panel on the second pump didn’t bend as easily as the first, a good indication it hadn’t been bent before. Cora searched it anyway. To absolutely no avail.
The money was gone.
Chapter
17
Becky was clearly shaken. She tossed off her scotch on the rocks, signaled for another.
Cora and Becky were sitting in a booth in the bar of the Country Kitchen, the popular home-style restaurant where Cora played bridge on Thursday nights. Upon not finding the money, Becky had driven straight there and was fortifying herself with scotch. She took a gulp, swallowed. “How could this have happened?”
“You know how it happened. The blackmailer was waiting for me to make the drop. He saw me hide the money in the pump, he waited till the cops left, and took it.”
“You’re assuming the blackmailer got the money?”
“Unless the blackmailer’s the body in the Dumpster.”
Becky said nothing.
“Is the blackmailer the body in the Dumpster?”
“I would think not.”
“You would think not?”
“Well, I don’t think so. If it were, who killed him?”
“If it weren’t, who killed him? Come on, Becky. It’s one thing holding out on me in a blackmail. Now you’re holding out on me in a murder.”
“I don’t know anything about the murder. I don’t know who this guy is. I don’t know why he’s dead.”
“You know about the blackmail.”
“We don’t know if the blackmail and the murder are connected.”
“You think it’s a coincidence? The killer just chose the blackmail drop sight to dump his dead body?”
“I think there’s some connection, but it doesn’t have to be direct.”
“Despite the fact the killer made off with the money.”
“We don’t know that.”
“Oh? It was some third unconnected party who did that?” Cora rubbed her forehead. “It’s times like this I wish I hadn’t quit drinking. Then I watch you pouring it down.”
“You want me to stop?”
“No, I want you to get good and drunk, and then you can tell me what you can’t tell me sober.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to tell you.”
“Right. You can’t betray the confidence of a client.” Cora snorted. “Though I can’t imagine how much confidence the client’s going to have with the way you’re handling this.”
“That’s a different kind of confidence. As a wordsmith, you should know that.”
Cora took a breath. “Let’s assume I’m not a wordsmith. I’m a private investigator. In your employ. In your service.”
“That’s a hot one. All you’ve managed to do is lose the money.”
“Oh, now it’s my fault? You think I should have kept it on me? With the police catching me at a murder scene?”
“Of course not,” Becky said. “I’m not thinking straight. It’s the worst predicament of my legal career. Cut me a little slack.”
“I’ll say you’re not thinking straight. You don’t know if the blackmail and the murder are connected. The blackmailer sent a sudoku. The killer sent a sudoku. Therefore the blackmailer is the killer.”
“Unless the blackmailer planted the sudoku on the victim’s body.”
Cora rolled her eyes. “Oh, my God, you’ve drunk the Kool-Aid. The blackmailer, inconvenienced by the presence of a corpse in the very place he chose for the money drop, tries to incorporate it into his plan by planting puzzles on the body. Would you like to explain to me how that comes to pass?”
“I don’t know how it comes to pass. I don’t know how any of this comes to pass. Can’t you see I’m very upset?”
Cora shrugged.
“Hadn’t noticed.”
Chapter
18
Sherry was propped up in bed. She managed a brief smile when Cora poked her head in the door.
“Well, that’s more like it,” Cora said. “The last time I came to see you you were no fun at all.”
“I’m fine. Except they won’t let me see my baby.”
“Of course not. You’re all doped up. You’d drop her on her head.”
“She’s in the ICU.”
“I see you, too,” Cora said. “It doesn’t mean you’re strong enough to hold the baby.”
“Stop it,” Sherry said.
“She’s not in the mood,” Aaron put in protectively.
“I’m upset. I want to see my baby.”
“I’ve seen your baby. She’s fine.”
“She’s not fine. She had a trauma.”
“She’s over it. She winked at me.”
“Babies don’t wink.”
“This one did. We have a special bond. I’m the good aunt Cora, letting her do the things nasty Mama won’t.”
Sherry tried to smile, couldn’t, turned her head.
Cora came up to the bed, took Sherry’s hand and squeezed it. “Not buying the shtick, huh, kid? Well, buck up. It’s a happy moment. You’re a mommy.”
Sherry choked back a sob. “I want to see my baby.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Cora went back to the ICU. They were ready for her this time. A doctor, a nurse, and two interns met her at the door.
“No security guard?” Cora said. “I suppose you’ve got him on speed-dial.”
The doctor was a stern-looking woman. “This is the ICU. You can’t come in.”
“Why not?”
“You’re not sterile.”
“I’ll wash my hands and put on a mask.”
“Sorry.”
“But I’m her aunt.”
The doctor shook her head. “Not close enough. Parent or sibling. Even then we’d talk you out of it.”
“It’s not like I’m going to take her out and play with her,” Cora said. “I just want to look.”
“Sorry.”
Cora put her arm around the doctor’s shoulders. “All right, look, doc. My niece is in hysterics because she can’t see her kid. She thinks the baby’s dying or something. She needs reassurance. Can’t you roll it into her room just for a minute? Let her get a look.”
“No way. The baby’s premature, it’s had a trauma, and it can’t be moved. It’s not dying or anything, but it’s not being bumped down the hallway into someone’s room. The baby’s not up to that.”
“Oh.” Cora cocked her head, leaned in confidentially. “You got one that is?”
The doctor’s mouth fell open.
Cora walked back into Sherry’s room followed by two interns with a gurney.
“What’s going on?” Aaron said.
“Absolutely nothing,” Cora said.
The
interns descended on Sherry. One slipped a surgical mask over her face. The other began unhooking the IV bags from the bed and attaching them to the pole on the gurney.
“You’re going for a little ride, kid,” Cora said, “but we’re pretending you’re not. At least, we’re pretending you’re not you. If there’s a doctor in the hall, you keep your head down, I’ll go into my these-are-not-the-droids-you’re-looking-for routine.”
“What?’
“You’re a post-op patient who’s not supposed to be moved. That’s why we’re not moving you.”
The interns slid Sherry onto the gurney, covered her with a sheet.
Cora poked her head out in the corridor, signaled all-clear. The interns wheeled the gurney out and down the hall.
The doctor was waiting at the door to the ICU. She grabbed the clipboard off the gurney. “Is this the patient?”
“Yes.”
“Ah, yes. Another post-op. Wheel her in. We’ll find room.”
The interns wheeled Sherry in. Cora and Aaron tried to follow, but the doctor shook her head and closed the door.
“Well, now,” the doctor said, “you seem a little old for pediatric ICU, but who am I to judge? Bring her over here, will you?”
The interns wheeled the gurney over to the incubator.
Sherry raised her head to look.
The doctor pushed her back. “Easy. I’m taking enough chances here without you pulling any stitches. Let them help you.”
The interns raised the end of the gurney.
Sherry looked over at the incubator. Inside was a tiny baby. Her baby. It was flailing its arms and legs, to which monitor sensors were attached.
Sherry wasn’t paying any attention. Her eyes were fixed on the beautiful little baby behind the Plexiglas.
“Jennifer,” she murmured.
“Hmm?”
“Her name is Jennifer.”
“Nice name.”
Sherry sucked in her breath. “Oh!”
“What is it?”
“She winked at me.”
Chapter
19
Early the next morning Cora Felton was on her way into the hospital when Becky Baldwin came roaring up and intercepted her in the parking lot. Becky clearly had not slept well. Her hair was disheveled and her eyes were bloodshot. She still looked good, just not in an airbrushed-photo way.
“Hop in,” Becky said.
“I’m going to see Sherry.”
“Later. We got trouble.”
“What do you mean, we?”
“Just get in.”
Cora walked around the car and got in.
Becky took off.
“Hey!” Cora said. “Where are you going?”
“Nowhere. I just can’t sit still. I’m going to drive around while you look at this.”
“Look at what?”
Becky passed her a folded sheet of paper.
Cora unfolded it. Her eyes widened. She read, “‘I looked in the Dumpster. The money wasn’t there. I’m getting angry. I want my ten grand, and I want it now. So. Last chance. New time. Nine P.M. New place. Solve the puzzles to find out where.’”
“Puzzles? What puzzles?”
Becky passed them over.
A crossword and a sudoku.
ACROSS
1 Headstone’s place
6 Chilled out
10 Some Feds
14 Absorb a loss, slangily
15 Big Apple stage award
16 Harry Chapin hit
17 Start of the hint
19 “Chocolat” costar
20 T size: Abbr.
21 What ungentlemanly sorts have
23 Soccer stadium cheer
24 “Fighting” team
26 Stivic player
28 “Soon…”
30 Part 2 of the hint
32 Bugs of the underworld
33 Nose-in-the-air sorts
34 MLB bigwigs
35 Go off the rail
36 In honor of
39 Haunted house sound
41 Hymn of praise
43 Part 3 of the hint
46 Some cameras
47 Made amends
48 After-class aide
49 Do-over at Ashe
50 Vacationers’ hirees
53 Incarcerated Nobel Peace Prize winner
56 Area between gutters
58 End of the hint
60 “The Heat __” (Frey tune)
61 Screws up
62 Seating selection
63 Witches’ brew ingredient
64 Place for a buggy
65 Exodus figure
DOWN
1 Figures out
2 Barack’s first Chief of Staff
3 Places for canvases
4 London’s Old __
5 Prince William, e.g.
6 Scungilli source
7 Third man in Genesis
8 Maltese monetary unit, once
9 Where sailors dine
10 Muscle car of old
11 “Cheers” proprietor
12 Sends to Siberia
13 West Coast gridders, informally
18 Like some outlooks
22 On its way
25 Vitamin label letters
27 Uncertainties
28 Chat room “Yikes!”
29 __ de guerre
30 How losses appear
31 Man the chuck wagon
33 Spanker, e.g.
35 Unlike movie extras
36 Unflinching
37 Cask material
38 ICU staffers
39 Roget’s entry: Abbr.
40 Hotfoots it
41 1945 conference site
42 Commotion
43 Like many talk radio shows
44 Relaxing
45 “Maybe tomorrow”
46 Northern Iraqi
48 Play pranks on
51 Word after see- or drive-
52 Gull kin
54 Maroon’s home
55 Plays for a sap
57 Sinus specialist, briefly
59 Popular cruise stop
* * *
“Ah, hell!” Cora said.
“Yeah,” Becky said. “And I know you can’t solve the crossword.”
“And Sherry’s in the hospital.”
“Is she coherent? Could she do it?”
“Sure, but if I tried to take it to her, Aaron would swoop down like an avenging fury and rip my head off.”
“So who are we going to take it to?”
“I’m afraid there’s only one choice.”
“You mean…?”
“Yeah,” Cora said grimly. “Harvey Beerbaum.”
Chapter
20
While Cora was a fake cruciverbalist, Harvey Beerbaum was the genuine article. He constructed crosswords, he competed in tournaments, he contributed to the New York Times.
He also was infatuated with Cora Felton, which drove her to distraction. There were few men Cora would not deign to marry, but Harvey topped the list. Bald, portly, fastidious, precise, he projected as so effeminate Cora sometimes wondered if his pursuit of her was just for show.
Harvey had come to her aid in the past. He knew she couldn’t solve puzzles. He didn’t know she couldn’t construct them, either.
Harvey lived in a gingerbread house, quaintly furnished with crossword puzzle memorabilia, including a trophy for coming in seventh in the Nationals, and framed copies of autographed puzzles by such noted constructors as Maura Jacobson and Merl Reagle.
Only two things were bothering him.
Cora had brought along a lawyer.
And he’d already been asked to solve one puzzle by the police.
“Let me get you some tea,” Harvey said, inviting them to sit down.
“Don’t go to any trouble,” Becky said.
“Oh, it’s no trouble. Let me put on the kettle. You can choose your own tea. Lemon Zinger. Sleepytime. Earl Grey.”
Harvey thru
st a basket of tea bags on the table. Slid saucers and spoons in front of them.
“There now. We have a minute while this boils. Tell me what this is all about. You say you have a puzzle.”
“Yes,” Cora said.
“Which you would like me to solve?” He posed the question delicately.
“It’s all right,” Cora said. “Becky knows I can’t solve crosswords. She’s my lawyer. I can’t hold out on her. It’s lawyer/client privilege, and she won’t tell. Just as we have cruciverbalist privilege.”
His eyes twinkled. “Well put. You have a puzzle?”
“Yes.”
“The police have also brought me a puzzle.”
“So I hear.”
“Connected to the murder.”
“That’s Chief Harper’s theory.”
“You don’t think so?”
“I don’t know the facts.”
“That’s strange.”
“Why?”
“Chief Harper brought the puzzle to me. Normally he would have brought it to you. So there must be a reason. The only one I can think of is you must be involved.”
“I’m not involved.”
“According to Chief Harper you were at the crime scene.”
Cora smiled. “That doesn’t mean I’m involved. It just means I’m nosy. Come on, Harvey. You know me. You think I’m involved in a murder?”
“Of course not.”
“Well, there you are.”
The teakettle whistled.
Harvey brought it to the table, filled the cups. “Milk? Sugar? Lemon?” he offered.
“Yeah, all of that,” Cora said.
Harvey looked horrified. “You can’t mix milk with lemon. It curdles.”
“Oh. Is that why my tea always looks funny?”
Harvey cut a lemon, brought the sugar bowl and a pitcher of milk to the table.
Becky took lemon.
Cora took milk and sugar.
“There, Harvey,” Cora said. “Nothing curdled. Can we talk to you about this puzzle?”
“I’d like to talk to you about the other puzzle. I assume you’ve seen it.”
“Why do you assume that?”
“Well, I couldn’t make any sense out of it, so I assume Chief Harper showed it to you.”
“He did.”
“And?”
“And it didn’t make any sense to me, either.”
“It seemed to be referring to a sudoku. Is that how it seemed to you?”
“It’s possible.”
“Chief Harper didn’t have a sudoku.”
“No?”
“No.”
