And a Puzzle to Die On (16 page)

“I don’t suppose the woman’s one of the names I gave you. You’d be slightly less sarcastic.”

“Oh, I think I’d still manage,” Chief Harper retorted. “The woman is Miss Ida Blaine. Just to show I’m a nice guy, I ran her driver’s license. Blond hair, blue eyes, five foot four, a hundred and fifteen pounds. Married. Would you like her shoe size?”

“You’re in rare form today, Chief.”

“It’s seldom I get to do such valuable work. Anyway, there’s your info. Hope it helps.”

Cora grimaced. “In this damn case, nothing helps.”

Sherry was on the couch watching TV when Cora came in. “You in a good mood?”

Cora frowned. “Why do you ask?”

“You have another card.”

“Aw, hell!”

“No, no, you’ll like this one.”

“Wanna bet?”

“Trust me, you’ll get a kick out of it.”

“What makes you think so?”

Sherry handed it to Cora. “I printed it out for you. Here, take a look.”

Cora looked it over. “Oh, hell. It’s a whachamacallit.”

“An acrostic.”

“Right. I
hate
them.”

“You’ll like this one. Look who wrote it.”

“Emily Cox and Henry Rathvon? Who the hell are they?”

“Cora!” Sherry was shocked. “
Everyone
knows who Emily and Henry are. They do the acrostics for the Sunday
Times
. They have one in every other week.”

ACROSTIC
by Emily Cox and Henry Rathvon

“Well, bully for them. You wanna solve this, feel free. I’m not in the mood.”

Cora flipped the puzzle onto the coffee table, and sank down on the couch.

The doorbell rang.

Sherry and Cora looked at each other.

“Expecting someone?” Cora asked.

“No. You?”

“Are you kidding?”

Cora got up and opened the door.

Zorro, the Incredible Hulk, and Freddy Krueger stood in the doorway. “Trick or treat!”

“Oh, dear!” Cora called over her shoulder, “Sherry? We got anything?”

“What?”

“It’s trick-or-treaters. What have we got?”

“Oh, hell!”

“Great.” Cora shook her head, smiled apologetically. “Kids. We’ve been busy. We didn’t even know it was Halloween.”

“You’ve got a pumpkin,” Zorro said accusingly.

“Huh?”

The Hulk pointed to the lighted jack-o’-lantern. “In your window. If you didn’t know it was Halloween, how come you got a pumpkin?”

Cora wasn’t about to be cross-examined by superheroes. “Sorry. Come back next year.”

Cora closed the door and went back to the living room. “Well, I ticked off the Incredible Hulk. What else can go wrong?”

“Another bad day?” Sherry asked Cora.

“Are there any other kind?”

“What’s your problem now?”

“You know that nice picture you got me, of the doc on the parole board?”

“Yeah. So?”

“Well, it has to mean something. But it doesn’t. The good doctor’s shocked as hell when I bring it up, but doesn’t flinch at Darryl Daigue. Though he
does
seem to be having a bit of a fling with a married woman on the board. Unfortunately,
she’s
not connected to the case in any other way.”

“Uh-huh. And remind me, the doctor is important because …?”

“He signed the death certificate on Ricky Gleason, ruling it an accidental death.”

“Right.” Sherry shook her head. “Cora, if this is a conspiracy, it’s pretty deep. Considering the principal’s already in jail for life.”

“Was
presumably
in jail for life. Until his sister started trying to get him out. Suddenly, a whole bunch of things happen. How they make sense, I have no idea. But somehow they’re interrelated.”

“Or coincidence.”

Cora grimaced. “I hate coincidence. You give me a mystery novel based on coincidence, I’ll throw the damn thing across the room. No, there’s a connection here. I just can’t see it.”

“Well,” Sherry said. “Sometimes it helps to clear your mind by thinking of something else.”

“Like what?”

Sherry pointed to the puzzle.

“You go ahead if you want. I’m going to Google Ida Blaine.”

Cora was back within minutes.

“Well?” Sherry asked.

“Ida Blaine is married to Mr. Quentin Hawes. Evidently Ida doesn’t like the name Hawes, because she isn’t using it. Evidently she doesn’t like Quentin, because she doesn’t seem to be using him much, either.”

“Aunt Cora.”

“Well, don’t blame me, dear. I’m not the one playing doctor. All I’m saying is, if she didn’t marry him for love, she must have had
some
reason.”

“Is he on the parole board?”

Cora’s eyes widened. “Oh, for goodness’ sake.”

“What?”

“I didn’t run him. Just her. The wedding announcement lists him as an industrialist.”

Cora hurried back to the office.

Sherry filled in a few more entries before Cora came crashing down the hall. “Guess what?”

“He’s on the parole board too?”

“No. Her husband, to the best I can determine, has no connection to anyone else whatsoever.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Thank God for that. This case is becoming like a snake that’s eating its own tail. Pretty soon it will consume itself and disappear.”

“That sounds rather unpromising. So what do you plan to do?”

“I don’t know. I’m beginning to think I’m on the wrong track.” Cora sighed, slumped down on the couch. “Maybe I should give it up.”

The living room window exploded.

Sam Brogan popped his gum and surveyed the living room. “You cleaned up?”

“We swept up the glass,” Cora told him. “Otherwise you’d be walking in it.”

“Then you didn’t consider this a crime scene?”

Cora’s eyes narrowed. “I beg your pardon?”

“If this was a crime scene, you wouldn’t have cleaned up. You know better than that.”

“Thanks for your assessment. Listen, Sam, you think we could speed this along?”

Sam chewed his gum. “I’d sure like to. Just havin’ trouble understanding the situation. The fact is, you called the police.”

“Yes,” Cora said. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”

Sam scratched his head. “Well, that’s my problem. Obviously you thought a crime had been committed or you wouldn’t have called the police. Then, before I could get here, you clean up all the evidence.”

Cora sighed. “Sam, take my word for it. Someone
threw a rock through our window. It shattered the glass. Glass went all over the living room. We cleaned it up. But I would think you still have enough evidence to go on. You got the shattered window. You got the rock.”

“Where’s the rock?”

“On the coffee table.”

“That where it landed?”

“No, that’s where I put it.”

“You handled the rock?”

“Why? You thinking of fingerprinting it?”

“You think I should?”

“Sam, what the hell are you doing?”

“I’m trying to figure out why you called the police.”

Cora’s face was getting redder and redder. A vein was beginning to stand out on her forehead. “I called the police because it didn’t occur to me they might send you.”

Sam nodded judiciously, as if that were a reasonable answer, instead of a personal slur. “I see what you mean. I’m not trying to give you a hard time. Just trying to understand. ’Cause that’s my job. At least part of it. You get a call, you go out, ask some questions, figure out why. Sometimes it’s easy. Guy robs a convenience store, shot the clerk.” Sam scratched his head. “Actually, don’t think we’ve had one of those around here. ’Least not while I was on the job. But that’s just a fer instance. Point is, most calls are pretty damn easy to figure out. Even a cat up a tree. They called ’cause the cat won’t come down. Actually, that’s usually the firemen they call. But you get the idea. Now here, you call ’cause a rock come through your window. So I ask myself, Do you think it’s a crime? Well, you don’t, ’cause you clean up the glass. But you do, ’cause you call me. So it’s kinda like a borderline crime, you know? Someone
broke your window. Well, what do you want me to do about it? You don’t want me to look at the glass, ’cause you cleaned that up. And you handled the stone. Just what do you want me to do?”

Cora seethed in silence.

“I gotta ask you,” Sam said cheerfully, “is there anyone you could think of might wanna throw a stone?”

Sherry shifted position on the couch.

“Yes, Miss Carter? Something you want to say?”

“The trick-or-treaters.”

“What trick-or-treaters?”

Cora waved it away. “Just some kids.”

“You think they might have thrown the stone?”

“Of course not.”

“But your niece brought it up. Why’d you bring it up, Miss Carter?”

“We weren’t expecting them. We didn’t have anything.”

Sam frowned. “You turned away trick-or-treaters?”

“It was a shock to see them,” Cora said. “We’re somewhat out in the sticks.”

“Maybe to a New Yorker,” Sam observed. “So, they said ‘trick or treat’, and you didn’t treat? How old were these kids?”

“Preteen.”

“How preteen?”

“I don’t know. Ten, eleven, twelve, I suppose.”

“Could they have been thirteen or fourteen?”

“How the hell should I know? They were dressed as aliens.”

“Uh-huh,” Sam said. He picked up the pace of his gum chewing. “You see my problem?”

Cora sighed. “Oh, Sam, if ever there was a straight
line, you just lobbed that one right down the middle of the plate.”

Sam again pressed on as if he hadn’t heard the remark. “Someone broke your window. Not only is this a rather minor event, but you have a perfectly good explanation for it in these trick-or-treaters. Yet you call the police. Which I could understand if you called to
report
the trick-or-treaters, but, no, they’re the last thing on your mind. If your niece hadn’t mentioned it, I wouldn’t even know.”

“What are you getting at?” Cora snapped, irritably.

“I’m wondering who you think threw the rock. You don’t think it’s the trick-or-treaters. You must have your own candidate.”

“Well, I don’t.”

Sam grimaced. “Then I can’t see you callin’ the cops. On the other hand, I hear from Chief Harper you been nosin’ around on a case. I wonder if this might be related.”

“I have no idea.”

“Yeah, but you must suspect. You start pokin’ around, someone doesn’t like it, wants you to stop. Breakin’ a window’s a lot politer than killin’ you.”

“Sam, you’re being even more damned irritating than usual. You mind telling me what’s up?”

“I knew Anita Dryer. Wasn’t on the force then. I’m not that old. Actually, wasn’t much older than her. Think I was a senior when Anita started junior high. Or something like that. Anyway, I didn’t know her well, but I knew her. Took it real hard when she got killed. Type of thing you don’t forget. And now you’re diggin’ it up again. Trying to get that bastard free.”

“I’m just looking, Sam. Facts aren’t gonna change.”

“Uh-huh. Well, then, I have to tell you.” Sam popped his gum.

“What do you have to tell me, Sam?”

“If that’s what’s goin’ on, I’m kinda on the side of whoever threw that rock.”