$10,000 in Small, Unmarked Puzzles

by Parnell Hall

  Clyde looked to Melvin for approval.

  “That would be great,” Melvin said.

  “You want me to take her gun?”

  “I’ll risk it.”

  Clyde went out.

  As soon as the door was closed, Cora said, “Okay, shut up and listen. Becky just went on TV and made a generic statement that could have been made by an attorney hired to take the case who hadn’t talked to you yet. She’s going into court tomorrow to try to get the case kicked or get you bail.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  “The killer ditched the murder weapon in your car. The cops have it, and the prosecutor’s going to spring it on her when she makes her case.”

  “That’s unfortunate.”

  “You could say that. Shorter, more graphic statements come to mind. Becky’s gotta tell the cops what happened.”

  “We don’t know what happened.”

  “I mean about Bill French.”

  “What about Bill French? Haven’t seen him in years. Haven’t heard from him in years. For all I know, he’s dead.”

  “He’s not dead. He’s alive, he’s framing you for murder, he’s capable of anything. That’s why you hired Chuckles out there to stand guard. I thought the idea was for you to get him in place so you’d be safe to tell what you know.”

  “No, the idea was to get him in place so I’d live through the night.”

  “You’re not going to talk?”

  “No.”

  “Why not? It’s a win-win. You get to tell your side of the story, and when Bill French gets pissed off and comes after you your private dick shoots him dead.”

  “It’s a nice theory.”

  “What’s wrong with it?”

  “More than likely the wrong person would wind up dead.”

  “If you were out of jail you wouldn’t feel that way.”

  “Maybe not, but I’m not.”

  “And you’re not going to get out of jail until you explain. Can you explain the money in the graveyard?”

  “I don’t know. Can you?”

  “How’d you wind up getting blackmailed?”

  “Don’t start that again.”

  “It’s the only part of this that doesn’t make any sense. I mean, hating you enough to frame you I buy. That motive is right in my wheelhouse. But blackmailing you just doesn’t fit.”

  “If it did, I’m sure you would have.”

  “So why are you being blackmailed?”

  “I’m not being blackmailed.”

  “You’re not the client?”

  “Oh, I’m the client. Just not in the blackmail.”

  “But you gave Becky the blackmail money.”

  “So?”

  “Why did you do that?”

  “I’m a nice guy.”

  “Come on. I’ve been married to you. You’re not a nice guy. You’re a selfish opportunist.”

  “That’s a little harsh.”

  “Once again, I was married to you. That’s mild, by any standard. You wouldn’t put up ten thousand dollars to save your best friend from the gallows. What did you get out of it?”

  “Nothing.”

  “What did you hope to get out of it?”

  “Ah.”

  “Oh, of course. You were hoping to get into Becky Baldwin’s pants. You haven’t yet, so you’re playing the good guy card. Instead of the lower-than-a-snake’s-belly card that is rightfully yours.”

  “Were you always this good with words, or is it just since you pretended to do puzzles?”

  “You’re not helping yourself, Melvin.”

  “You’re not helping me, either. You’re in here cross-examining me and pressuring me to put my head on a chopping block.”

  “You want me to stop pressuring you, tell me who’s the client.”

  “Oh, I can’t do that.”

  “Right. You’d lose all your brownie points.”

  “Yeah.” Melvin’s eyes were twinkling. “I’d probably have to come up with another ten grand.”

  Cora shook her head ruefully. “You do have a peculiar charm.”

  “Come over here when you say that.”

  “Fat chance.”

  “Come on. I’ll tell Clyde to guard the door.”

  “That’s not why I’m here, Melvin.”

  “Why are you here?”

  “I’m trying to help you.”

  “Come closer.”

  “Will you tell the cops about Bill French?”

  “If I do, will you get over here?”

  “I’m serious.”

  “So am I.”

  “It’s not funny, Melvin. You’re talking tough because you got a bodyguard. That’s fine for now. But after the probable cause hearing, you know they’re going to send you to county. What are you going to do then?”

  Melvin shrugged. “Becky’s a smart girl. She’ll think of something.”

  Chapter

  45

  District Attorney Henry Firth was angry. He hated to be interrupted when he was eating. It was unfair to his wife, who had cooked the food, and deserved to see it eaten. It would get cold, and it wasn’t as good cold. Visitors shouldn’t knock at suppertime. Or any time, for that matter. If you wanted to see someone, you called first. Henry flung the door open, prepared to bawl the visitor out.

  It was Becky Baldwin, dolled up in a slinky little number. She looked positively gorgeous. She smiled at him. “I’m so sorry to disturb you. I just need a minute of your time.”

  “We’re in the middle of dinner.”

  “Then I’ll be brief. We have a probable cause hearing tomorrow.”

  “Yes, we do. That’s when we should be discussing this. Whatever it is.”

  “I know,” Becky said. “But then you discuss things and they’re on the record, and you don’t always want them on the record. So I thought I’d give you a chance to say them off the record, so they don’t wind up in the press.”

  “In the press?”

  “Henry, who is it?” Mrs. Firth called from the dining room.

  “It’s all right, dear, I’ll only be a minute,” he called back. “I’m sorry, we’ll have to do this tomorrow.”

  “Well, that’s too bad. I hoped to clear this up tonight. In that case, I’d like to apologize in advance for accusing you of suppressing evidence in open court.”

  Henry Firth’s face darkened into a scowl. “What!?”

  “Yes. It’s not the type of thing I like to do, but you have to understand I’m protecting a client. So any accusations of misconduct against the prosecutor are all in the spirit of fair play.”

  “Fair play? Accusing me of misconduct is not fair play. You think you can pull a stunt like that and get away with it, young lady, you’re going to find yourself disbarred.”

  “See, and I don’t want that to happen, either. It would be so much better if we came to an understanding.”

  “There’s nothing to understand. If you make trouble, you’re going to be in trouble. You think you can come in here, throw false accusations around? Try to intimidate me?” He shook his head. “You have a lot to learn about law.”

  “I know. So when I start calling witnesses to the stand in order to establish just how long you’ve been withholding the discovery of the murder weapon, it will be good experience for me.”

  Henry Firth’s eyes were wide. “What? That’s ridiculous. No one’s withholding anything.”

  “Have the police uncovered the murder weapon?”

  He took a breath. “The police have uncovered a gun which may prove to be the murder weapon.”

  “What makes you think it is?”

  “If you must know, it was found in your client’s car.”

  Becky laughed.

  “You find that funny?”

  “It is, rather. You assume it’s the murder weapon because it was found in the car of the man you assume is the killer. Your circular logic is rather amusing.”

  “It is the murder weapon.”

&nbs
p; “How do you know?”

  “It fired the fatal bullet.”

  “Really?” Becky grinned. “You have the ballistics evidence? This gets better and better. You not only suppressed the gun, you suppressed it long enough to get it tested. Then you suppressed it until the results of the ballistics test came in. Then you suppressed it even after the results of the ballistics test came in. Court’s going to be more fun than I thought.”

  “Now, see here.”

  “Are you going to lecture me some more? I certainly hope so. I’m learning a lot. Of course, your food’s getting cold. Maybe you should tell me this tomorrow in front of the judge.”

  “Hold on, hold on. There’s no reason to get the judge involved.”

  “That’s what I thought.” Becky smiled. “But then, I’ve had dinner.”

  Chapter

  46

  Cora was third in line at the McDonald’s drive-thru window. She’d been forth in line when she got on, but the guy in front took forever to place his order. “It’s not a debate,” Cora grumbled, while the man discussed his order at some length.

  Cora hadn’t had a decent meal since Sherry’d been in the hospital. She didn’t cook herself, so eating at home was out. And she was too antsy to sit still at the Country Kitchen all by herself.

  A banging on the window roused her from her thoughts. Cora looked up. It was Chief Harper. He didn’t look happy.

  Cora rolled down the window. “Hop in, Chief. I’ll buy you dinner.”

  “Get out of the car!”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. Out!”

  “I can’t leave my car here. I’m blocking the line.”

  “Get out of line.”

  “I’m hungry.”

  “Me, too. But am I sitting home eating dinner? No, I’m driving all over town looking for the woman who was supposed to be my friend.”

  The car ahead of Cora moved up.

  “There. You got room. Pull out and park over there.”

  Cora drove the car over to the parking space. She got out fuming, strode up to the chief. “What is it that couldn’t keep until I had my Extra Value Meal?”

  “I just had a call from Henry Firth.”

  “How is Ratface?”

  “He’s steamed. He’s absolutely steamed. And you know who he’s mad at? He’s mad at me. And you know why?”

  “I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

  “Becky Baldwin disturbed his dinner. Guess what she said?”

  “Chief—”

  “I told you that in confidence. Because I thought you should know.”

  “I told Becky in confidence because I thought she should know. Looks like we both got taken, Chief.”

  “What do you mean, we? You’re not the injured party here. You’re the blabbermouth that caused all the trouble.”

  “That’s a rather unkind thing to say, Chief. I mean, am I calling you a blabbermouth for telling me?”

  “This is not a joke, Cora. Becky accused Henry of withholding evidence.”

  “I’m sure Henry wouldn’t do that. He must have some reasonable explanation.”

  “Can you think of a reasonable explanation? The explanation is I didn’t get around to it yet. Does that sound reasonable to you?”

  “Well, I’m pretty gullible.”

  “This is important, Cora. I have to work with these people. I have to keep my job. I’ve got a daughter in college. You know how much that costs these days?”

  “No one’s going after your job.”

  “You didn’t hear Henry. I thought he was going to pop a blood vessel.”

  “It’s his own damn fault. When he got the ballistics evidence, he should have called Becky. Not wait to spring it on her in court.”

  “That’s not the point. The point is I told you not to tell anyone. And you said you wouldn’t. That’s the point. The point is how much I can trust you. How much I can depend on your word. The point is whether I have to worry if you’re lying to me.”

  “Come on. You’re a police chief and a husband. You haven’t learned that women lie to men?”

  Chief Harper looked at her for a long moment. “I thought you were my friend.”

  He got in his car, pulled out of the parking lot on angry, squealing tires, and sped off down the road.

  Chapter

  47

  Cora’d had it. No one wanted to listen to her, no one wanted her help, no one told her anything. All she got was abuse. From people too stubborn to listen. Would it have killed Becky to let her in on the play? Of course not. When had she ever let Becky down? Never. Just the opposite. She was always there for her. And here was Becky treating her as if she couldn’t be trusted. She would never betray Becky’s confidence. It wasn’t in her nature. Oh, sure, she’d told Becky what Chief Harper had said. But that was different. No client would suffer because of it. If that were the case, she wouldn’t have done it. And this was the way she was treated. It just wasn’t fair.

  Cora cruised around in her car and wondered where to go. She hadn’t wanted to get back in the McDonald’s line. It was too humiliating after being pulled out of it by the cops.

  It was really frustrating having nothing to do.

  What she wanted to do was find Bill French and slap him silly. How could the guy get away with it? How could Melvin let him get away with it? She wouldn’t, if it were happening to her. She’d take action. Immediate action. Guy thought he was so tough. Well, she had a gun, too. Assuming he still had a gun, now that he’d planted the murder weapon on Melvin. It didn’t matter. Armed or not, Cora wouldn’t take it from him.

  That was no way to live, cowering in fear. For years she’d put up with it from Sherry, but that was different. Sherry was hiding from a spouse who beat her up. Her ex-husband Dennis was an obnoxious, horrible person, who deserved his place in hell, but Cora couldn’t shoot him. He wasn’t armed. And, even if he was, she couldn’t shoot Sherry’s husband. It would put a strain on family relations.

  But this son of a bitch was something else. He was a cold-blooded killer, who killed, not out of passion, not even for profit, but for the sheer sadistic pleasure of torturing someone else. Bill French was a scourge that needed to be wiped off the face of the earth. If he came after her, she would have no compunction about pulling the trigger. But he wasn’t going to. Because no one was going to name him. He was going to remain in hiding and strike from the shadows.

  There was one saving grace. At least with Melvin in jail he wouldn’t be killing anybody else. Because that would prove Melvin innocent.

  Cora had a funny thought. Suppose she killed Bill French, and made it look like one of his murders. Then he’d be dead, and Melvin would be exonerated. Talk about a win-win. But nothing like that was going to happen. Because no one knew Bill French existed. And that was the way he liked it.

  Cora drove out to the hospital. It was after visiting hours. Sherry was asleep. Aaron was gone. It was that type of day.

  Cora needed to talk to someone who didn’t hate her. She drove over to the Bakerhaven Gazette.

  Aaron was in the bullpen working on his computer.

  “Hi, Cora. What’s up?”

  “What you writing?”

  He grimaced. “Rehashing the murder case. I’m trying to make it sound new, but it clearly isn’t. Strictly page four.”

  Poor Aaron. Spending so much time in the hospital with Sherry, he’d missed the leads on both murders. Cora felt sorry for him. She wondered if she should tell him about the gun. She’d told everybody else. Probably not a great idea with the mood the chief was in.

  “So what’s your angle?”

  “I don’t have one. I’m hoping my editor doesn’t notice.”

  “Wanna have dinner?”

  “What?”

  “I’m starving. And everyone hates me.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Nothing. I just wasn’t ready for another case involving Melvin.”

  “Yeah, that’s got
ta be hard.” Aaron checked his watch. “I got time for a bite if we don’t go far.”

  “Wicker Basket?”

  “Sure.”

  They walked down the street to the little restaurant with the red-and-white checked tablecloths. It was busy, but they got a table in the corner. Cora had a burger and fries. Aaron had a club sandwich.

  “Cheer up,” Cora told him.

  Aaron looked at her. “Huh?”

  “You just had a baby. You’re not supposed to be depressed.”

  “I’m tired.”

  “No, you’re not. You’re overwhelmed. You got married, you built a house, you had a kid. It all seemed so idealistic. Suddenly your kid’s got problems, your wife’s a basket case, you’re running yourself ragged, and you can’t even do your job. Of course it’s a kick in the head. I know how you feel. I’ve never had a kid, but I’ve been married. It always seemed wonderful, and then suddenly it wasn’t. And it never got better and ended in divorce.”

  Cora stuck her finger in his face. “That is not happening to you. You are in a situation that will get better. The kid will get better, and Sherry will get better. Hell, as soon as she gets out of that damn, depressing hospital, things will look ten times better.”

  “I don’t mean to be a drag.”

  “Yeah, but you can’t help it. You have to put on a happy face around Sherry all day. At least, you think you do. You really don’t. You just have to be there. If you’re worried, be worried. She’s not dumb. You treat her like a child, she’s gonna think something’s wrong.”

  “I know. I’m writing a nothing piece that doesn’t matter that no one’s going to read, and I can’t even do that right. I started the damn thing three times, I deleted it three times. The problem is there’s real stories in the same paper. You got Suspect Arrested, you got Suspect Hires Bodyguard. I could use a quote from Becky Baldwin but I’m not going to get it.”

  “You called her?”

  “Yeah. You know what she said? ‘Sorry, Aaron.’ I mean, you can quote ‘No comment,’ or you can say ‘Couldn’t be reached for comment.’ But, when reached for comment said, ‘Sorry, Aaron’? Try and fit that into a story.” Aaron sighed. “I shouldn’t bore you with my problems. What’s happening with you?”

  Cora hesitated a moment. He looked truly miserable. She took a breath. “How’d you like a front-page story?”