Arsenic and Old Puzzles (27 page)

“Or is it?

“Think about it. We have only Alan Guilford’s word it ever happened at all.”

This time Becky Baldwin beat Arlene to her feet.

Cora put up her hand. “You can object all you want, but that happens to be the case. There is nothing to substantiate Alan Guilford’s claim. Nothing to prove that is what Charlotte said when Alan met her that morning. Indeed, there is nothing to prove that Alan ever met Charlotte that morning at all.

“In a case like this, where no such proof exists, what would one necessarily expect to happen? That someone will attempt to manufacture some. To plant some evidence to bolster their story. This is where so many murderers slip up. In gilding the lily. In trying to cover up their crime.”

Cora paused, surveyed the room.

“I have found just such a clue.”

Cora let that sink in. “The only question is, is it real or is it planted?

“You be the judge.”

Cora reached in her drawstring purse. “I will show it to you now.”

She pulled out the crossword puzzle. “This is the crossword puzzle found on Charlotte’s body.” She held it up, paused for a moment. “The clue is not in here.”

She reached into her purse again, pulled out the puzzle in the newspaper. “And here is the crossword puzzle with the answer
Arsenic and Old Lace.
” She looked around the room. “The clue is not in here, either.

“This is the clue.”

Cora pulled out a bottle of maple syrup, set it on the table, walked away.

She turned back, pointed a finger. “Edith Guilford looks positively baffled. So do Alan and Sebastian.

“But Arlene looks like she’s seen a ghost. I wonder why. Let’s check the fingerprints on the bottle, Chief, and maybe we’ll find out.”

With a howl of rage, Arlene sprang from her seat, and hurled herself at Cora Felton in a blind fury.

Chief Harper leapt to his feet, but he wasn’t close enough to intervene.

Barney Nathan was. The little doctor jumped up, took a flying leap, and tackled Arlene before she could strike his woman down.

Chapter

59

Becky came back
from the holding cells, joined the party in Chief Harper’s office.

“She doesn’t want me as her lawyer.”

“What a surprise,” Cora said.

“She’s not talking, either. She’s hiring some attorney from New York.”

“That’s a shame,” Henry Firth said.

“You were hoping for a confession?” Cora said.

“Without it we have very little evidence. Aside from your opinion that the woman turned white when confronted with maple syrup. She also found you irritating enough to take a swing at. Under that criteria…” The prosecutor shrugged.

“Thanks a lot,” Cora said. “You’ll get your evidence. The chief’s tracing her fingerprints now. It doesn’t matter who she turns out to be, if she isn’t Arlene, she’s dead meat.”

“I still have to present a case to the jury.”

“No problem. Now that we know what happened, we’ll be able to identify the first victim. After we know who he is, everything else will fall into place.”

“How do you know that?”

“Well, I know who he must be. He’s either a lawyer or accountant or trustee of Arlene’s parents’ estate.”

“Traveling incognito with no identification?” Henry said sarcastically.

“Exactly.”

“You want to tell me how that works?”

“Sure thing. Arlene’s parents die and she inherits umpty million dollars. Huge lifestyle change for a girl who’s been sharing an apartment with a Columbia student in New York City. It’s also a huge lifestyle change for her roommate. Arlene, as a result of her windfall, will be moving out and leaving her with a rent she cannot afford. If Arlene had made provisions for her roommate, things would have been okay. Or, not to be uncharitable, perhaps Arlene
did
make provisions for her roommate, but it wasn’t enough. The roommate is insanely jealous of Arlene. The roommate doesn’t move out, she murders Arlene and takes her place.”

“Oh, come on,” Henry Firth said.

“You asked the question. This will all come out when the IDs are made. I’m telling you what I think. Unless you don’t want to hear it.”

“We want to hear it,” Chief Harper said. “You say she took her place as if there was nothing to it. How could she pull it off? Surely Arlene’s friends would know the difference.”

“Yeah, but she immediately cuts ties. Moves out of New York to a house in Connecticut. As for the rest of it, all it takes is a little old-fashioned forgery. The estate is on the West Coast. Most communication is conducted by e-mail. Anyway, it works. The girl inherits the money, moves to the house in Bakerhaven.

“Initially it’s kind of boring, because she’s keeping her head down. She watches a lot of TV. Does crossword puzzles. Which she doesn’t even have to go out to buy. Arlene’s relatives were hoarders. There’s a mother lode of old newspapers stored in the basement.”

“How do you know that?” Henry Firth said.

“Lucky guess. Anyway, life is pretty boring until she meets a handsome young man who happens to live right next door. Now things are popping very nicely indeed. All things considered, it couldn’t be better.

“Then disaster strikes. A letter or e-mail or phone call arrives. From the attorney, accountant, trustee, or whatever. He’s coming east and wants to pay his respects.

“She’s trapped. There’s no place to hide. The man, whoever he is, will take one look and know she’s not Arlene. So she comes up with her plan. She contacts the man, tells him about Alan. Says he’s someone she met since her inheritance, and she’s afraid he might be after her money. She asks the attorney if he would mind coming incognito, and checking into his aunts’ bed-and-breakfast under an assumed name, so he can meet Alan casually without Alan knowing who he is, and get a sense of the young man’s intentions.”

“He didn’t just come incognito. He had no identification. And no rental car.”

“She must have talked him out of it somehow. If Alan really is a con man, he’ll be suspicious of everyone and might break into the car to look at the name on the rental agreement. Or something equally ridiculous. And the guy doesn’t question it because he’s having fun playing secret agent.

“So, she ascertains he likes wine, suggests he have some with the aunts—she knows they don’t drink it themselves—and see what they say about their nephew. All she has to do is poison the wine bottle and wait for nature to take its course.”

Henry Firth was still skeptical. “And what’s the whole
Arsenic and Old Lace
bit?”

“That’s a smokescreen dreamed up by Arlene—I’m going to call her Arlene, until we know who she turns out to be. She can’t just kill the solicitor. Eventually someone will figure out who he is and realize why he was killed. Arlene’s just seen
Arsenic and Old Lace
on Turner Classic Movies. At the time it registered with her she’d just done a crossword puzzle with
Arsenic and Old Lace
in the theme. And it occurs to her how many parallels there are between the Guilford sisters and the aunts in the movie. Both have old creaky houses, both have basements and window seats, both take in lodgers. And in both cases the young man of the house is engaged to the girl next door.

“Is that enough to suggest the connection? Not really. The solicitor is killed and no one notices.

“Arlene was prepared for this contingency. With the crossword puzzle that said
Arsenic and Old Lace.
Ideally, she’d have liked to have had it in the solicitor’s pocket. But there was no way to swing it. It was hard enough just getting him to carry the sudoku. She probably sent it to him in the mail, told him to carry it in his pocket to test Alan.”

“Test Alan?” Henry Firth said. “Oh, come on.”

“Hey, I’m making this up in lieu of a confession. Anyway, she finds a way to get him to carry a sudoku. But she needs a crossword puzzle. Remember how we got it? She brought it in the door. Said she found it under the doormat. Well, that works with a computer printout, but a newspaper dated 2005? Besides, she doesn’t want to be the one to introduce the concept of
Arsenic and Old Lace.
But to suggest the killer is leaving crossword puzzle clues? That’s just great. Because we’ll be sure to pay attention to the next one. Particularly when it comes in an old paper. Which, luckily, she didn’t throw away. The only problem is it’s been solved. You can’t give the Puzzle Lady a solved puzzle. She has to erase it. And she needs a delivery system. She gets the town drunk, probably plies him with liquor, and persuades him to break into the Guilford house, hide in the window seat for a while, then come out and do goodness knows what—it doesn’t matter, he’s never going to do it. She gives him a bottle of wine to keep him happy while he’s waiting. The wine is poisoned. Which is perfect. A body in the window seat with a crossword puzzle on him that says
Arsenic and Old Lace.

“Only two things go wrong. The guy makes so much noise breaking in, he wakes up the sisters and they call the police. If he was still alive when they found him, the jig would have been up. He also drops the newspaper in the bushes, so we found the body but not the clue.

“But all is not lost. When Arlene sends Alan to make sure everything is going smoothly she lucks out. In arresting him in the bushes, Sam Brogan finds the newspaper where the drunk dropped it.” Cora frowned. “Actually, I think Sam found the puzzle before he arrested Alan. Which is why we didn’t associate the newspaper with him. When solved, it says
Arsenic and Old Lace,
and we’re off to the races. I make the connection, want to know if the poison was in elderberry wine. When the poison turns out to be actually three poisons mixed in the same proportions as in the movie, it’s clear the killer is copying
Arsenic and Old Lace.
Perfect plan.

“Only the chief clamps the lid on and keeps it out of the media. Bad luck for Arlene. She doesn’t know if her plan is working.

“So she has to keep going. She doesn’t want to kill anybody else, but she has to copy the movie. So she digs the grave. Which we immediately find. If we hadn’t, I’m sure something would have suggested we look there. Perhaps another puzzle clue. We can never have too many of those. Anyway, she digs the grave. And she might have gotten away with it, if not for the maple syrup.”

“What’s the big deal about the maple syrup?”

“That was the key to the whole thing. Alan Guilford was the last person to see Charlotte alive. He claims he went over there to shave, he ran into her, she asked him about breakfast. Specifically, she asked him how he liked his pancakes. Well, assuming she’s not just a dotty old lady, why would she do that? The cellar door’s off the pantry, and someone dug a hole in the basement. If Charlotte ran into Alan as he was coming up from the basement after digging the grave, he might say he just popped over to borrow some maple syrup for breakfast. In that case he would have to get a bottle—Charlotte might even hand it to him—and take it with him when he left. Then it would be perfectly natural for her to ask him later how he liked his pancakes. Is there anything wrong with that?”

Henry Firth thought it over. “No, that works.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Cora said. “For one simple reason. Alan brought it up. We wouldn’t know Charlotte asked him about pancakes for breakfast if he hadn’t mentioned it. And if he’d dug the grave and covered it up by pretending he was borrowing maple syrup, he certainly wouldn’t have.

“But if Arlene dug the grave and borrowed the maple syrup, it works just fine. Charlotte could ask Alan about it, he could be baffled, and he could tell us about it, which he did. Which means he’s either totally innocent, or the stupidest accomplice in the annals of crime.

“If Alan’s the accomplice, Arlene has no problem. She just tells him to go along with the pancake story. Tell Charlotte they were delicious. She will then proceed to forget all about them, and there will be no need to kill her. It’s only the idea that Charlotte will be claiming a breakfast that Alan is denying that makes her dangerous.”

“What makes her think Charlotte would do that?”

“Alan tells her. He comes back from shaving and says Charlotte’s really losing it, she has some crazy idea he had pancakes for breakfast. When Arlene hears that, Charlotte’s gotta go. She doesn’t want to bump off the old biddy, but by now she’s in too deep. She’s already bumped off the cheating couple, who saw her do something suspicious—or maybe not—by now Arlene’s paranoia must be so high she might just
think
they saw something suspicious. She bangs them over the head, sticks ’em in her car, and drops ’em in the bus in the back of the high school.”

“How did she know it was there?” Henry Firth objected.

“A little bird told her,”
Cora said. “Are you going to say this about everything? The answer is how the hell should I know? I’m giving you the broad brushstrokes of what you are likely to find out once the facts are in. If you prefer to sit back and wait for those facts, suit yourself. Personally, I think I solved the case. But if you don’t wanna buy it, feel free.

“The point is she drops ’em on the bus. I don’t know if she started digging graves in the cellar for them and then got interrupted, or whether the one thing has nothing to do with the other. But it’s a good bet she didn’t put ’em in the window seat because two bodies wouldn’t fit.

“Anyway, she sticks ’em on the bus, adorns ’em with a sudoku to tie ’em to the other crimes, because she’s still trying to sell that idea, and heaves a big sigh of relief. And the next thing she knows, Charlotte Guilford is making a big fuss about the stupid bottle of maple syrup.”

“Granted, this is conjecture,” Henry Firth said, “but that’s all it is. You can’t prove any of it.”

“No, but
you
can, now that I’ve given you a hint. A lot of things point to it. Arlene claims she couldn’t do crossword puzzles. Remember that, Chief? You were there. So was Becky Baldwin and a lot of other witnesses. It was when she brought us the crossword puzzle she said she found under the doormat. Why did she claim she couldn’t do puzzles? To distance herself from the puzzle. In point of fact she copied it from one of mine she’d found in an old newspaper. She’d printed it out in the library, most likely on the same computer she sent the e-mail to Sebastian that brought him here.