And a Puzzle to Die On (7 page)

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“Right. And then it tells me my message is in some sort of program I don’t know how to open. And by the time I figure it out I’ve burned the toast.”

“What toast?”

“Just an example.”

“Is that why the kitchen was full of smoke yesterday?”

“I have no idea how that happened.”

Sherry ignored her protest, said, “Come on. I’ll walk you through it. Go ahead. Click on the icon.”

Reluctantly, Cora moved the mouse and clicked.

“See,” Cora said. “What did I tell you. Crossword Compiler Six.”

“No problem.”

“Are you telling me we have it?”

“Yes, we have it. We not only have it, it’s open. It’s the program the Puzzle Lady writes her column in.”

“Oh.”

“Click on that little icon there.”

Cora moved the mouse. Clicked.

A crossword puzzle filled the screen.

“Ah, hell,” Cora groaned. “It’s a goddamned puzzle.”

“Oh, my God!” Sherry exclaimed. “Look who that is.”

“Who?”

“Nancy Salomon.”

“Who’s Nancy Salomon?”

“A constructor.”

“Do you know her?”

“Not personally. I know her puzzles. She’s a famous constructor. Contributes to the Sunday
New York Times
.”

“Well, bully for her. If she thinks I’m gonna solve this, she’s got another think coming. Why’s she sending it to me?”

“Maybe she says in the puzzle.”

“Yeah, and maybe it gives the secret location of the missing weapons of mass destruction. I don’t care, I’m still not solving the damn thing.”

“You expect me to solve it for you?”

“I don’t think I could stop you. Not if it’s from this famous Nancy Salmon.”

“Salomon.”

“Whatever. You wanna tell me what it says, fine. If you don’t, I’ll probably live.”

The phone rang.

Sherry scooped it up. “Hello? Hi, Becky. Yeah, just a sec.” She passed the phone to Cora. “Some lawyer for you.”

Cora gave Sherry a look, took the phone, said, “Yeah? What’s up, Becky?”

“I’m taking the case.”

It was a slow crime day in Bakerhaven. Cora found Chief Harper relaxing with a mug of coffee and a copy of the
Bakerhaven Gazette
. Had she not knocked on his office door, she’d also have found him with his feet up on his desk.

The chief was less than pleased when he heard what she wanted. “Darryl Daigue, huh? Now there’s a thankless task.”

“You remember the case?”

“Who could forget it? Son of a bitch kills a sweet young girl. Hell, not much older than my Clara is now.” He shuddered at the thought. “I hope the bastard rots in hell. He did it, Cora. I’ll bet my life on it. I was on the force back then.”

“You weren’t in charge.”

“No,” Harper conceded. “I had Dan Finley’s job. Young, eager rookie. Well, maybe not quite
that
young. Anyway, I was on the case. In on the arrest. Read him his Miranda. Testified at the trial.”

“I read the transcript.”

“Then you know. The guy has absolutely no redeeming factors. I hope he rots in hell.”

“Suppose he didn’t do it?”

“He did it, Cora. Trust me, he did it. You know how it is? Sometimes you have doubts. That time I had none. I sat in on the trial. I heard the testimony.”

“You sat in on the trial?”

“Every day. I wanted to see that son of a bitch go down.”

“Was there a party when he did?”

Chief Harper started to answer, then noticed Cora’s look. “Oh, don’t give me attitude. I don’t deserve attitude.”

“Since when did
attitude
become bad? I can remember when people had
good
attitude.”

“Please lay off the linguistics.”

Cora smiled. Sherry was always after her to talk more like the Puzzle Lady. Chalk up one in the plus column. “Come on, Chief. You wanna give me a little help here? We all concede Darryl Daigue is a rotten person. The question is, what if he didn’t kill the girl?”

“But he did. Come on, Cora. You read the transcript.”

“What about the counter boy?”

“What about him?”

“Why didn’t he testify?”

“Why should he? He didn’t have anything to do with it.”

“Says who?”

“What do you mean, says who? No one says any different.”

“Darryl Daigue does. Darryl says he relieved the
counter boy, and the counter boy went off with Anita Dryer.”

Chief Harper wasn’t impressed. “Oh, that’s what he says now?”

“What do you mean
now
?”

“As I recall, he used to blame it on the witness.

What’s-his-name. It’s been so long.”

“Ray Tucker?”

“That’s it. Ray Tucker. Good for you. Of course, you just read the transcript.”

“And you didn’t. Like you say, Chief, it’s been twenty years. Isn’t there a chance your memory’s a trifle hazy?”

“Of course there is. I can’t remember the name of every witness. I’m not even sure who was on the jury. But there’s one thing I do know. There was no doubt in my mind we had the right man.”

“Even though you had no evidence.” As Chief Harper opened his mouth to protest, Cora added, “And I’m not talking about the pot that got suppressed. I know all about that. You also didn’t have a rape kit, did you? ’Cause it turned out she wasn’t raped. That charge was dropped before trial.”

“It’s not uncommon. The prosecution will often dump a charge it thinks it’ll have trouble proving.”

“Doesn’t it hurt their case, there being no evidence of rape?”

“Not at all. In fact, a lot of these sex crimes escalate to murder for just that reason. The perpetrator lashes out in frustration when he’s unable to perform.”

“Yes, the prosecutor made that point in his closing argument. Several times, as I recall.”

“It’s certainly a valid argument.”

“It’s making the best of it. If there was evidence
she’d been raped, the prosecution would be harping on that. There’s none, so they turn it around and pretend the
absence
of evidence is damning.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“A little unfair, don’t you think? If she’s raped, it proves he did it, if she’s not raped, it proves he did it? What would prove he
didn’t
do it?”

“Nothing. But that’s not so strange, because he did.”

The phone rang. Harper scooped it up, said, “Police.” He listened a few moments, said, “All right, put me down for two,” and hung up. “The PTA’s raffling off a turkey,” he explained.

“A live turkey?”

“Good lord, I hope not. Clara would just get attached to him, and we’d wind up with a pet instead of a meal.”

“So, help me out here, Chief. Who can I talk to about Darryl Daigue?”

“Damned if I know. It’s been a long time. His lawyer’s dead. The judge is dead. Prosecutor left town. You can hunt up whatever jurors are left, but they’re not gonna help you much. They all voted guilty.”

“Doesn’t mean they were all sold. Sometimes one strong juror can sway the tide.”

“I suppose.” Chief Harper said it with a complete lack of enthusiasm.

“Whatever happened to Ricky Gleason?”

“Who’s that?”

“Counter boy Darryl says he took over for.”

Harper shrugged. “You got me.”

“You remember him at all?”

“Can’t say as I do. He didn’t testify in the trial. Didn’t figure in the case at all, as far as I know. I’m not even sure what he looked like.”

“He have parents in town?”

“I’m sure he did at one time. Probably dead or moved away, or I’d have heard of ’em.”

Cora sighed, got to her feet. “You’re a big help.”

“Actually, I am. I’m giving you some good advice, Cora. I’m telling you to leave this alone.”

Cora nodded grimly. “Join the club.”

Sherry was cooking dinner when Cora got home. A marvelous cook, Sherry loved spending time in the roomy kitchen, whipping up delicacies. When Cora came in, Sherry was at the butcher-block table, massacring onions for the pot roast.

“I solved your puzzle,” Sherry told her.

Cora Felton dropped her purse on the kitchen table, flopped into a chair, and groaned. “Don’t tell me. It’s a secret message, warning me off the Daigue case.”

Sherry’s mouth fell open. “What makes you say that?”

Cora stared at her. “You mean it is?”

“Not at all. I’m just wondering where you got the idea.”

“Oh, everyone’s telling me to lay off the case. I’m starting to get a complex.”

“Then this isn’t as bad news as I thought.”

“Bad news?”

“It’s
not
bad news,” Sherry said. “It’s just how you’re going to take it.”

PARTYFAVOR
by Nancy Salomon

ACROSS