Arsenic and Old Puzzles (7 page)

Chapter

13

“You couldn’t have
just thrown it away,” Cora muttered, disgustedly.

“Of course not. It’s evidence.”

“Evidence of what?”

“How should I know?” Sam said. “I’m just the dumb cop who finds the clues. You’re the Puzzle Lady who figures them out.”

“A puzzle in a newspaper,” Cora said. “How can it possibly mean anything? I mean, look at this.” She pointed to the top of the page. “This is the Hartford paper from September 17th, 2005.”

“Yes, it is,” Chief Harper said. “You will notice this happens to be one of your crossword puzzles.”

There was no denying that. Cora’s smiling face adorned the column.

“So what?” Cora said. “You wanna tell me what a crossword puzzle of mine from 2005 has to do with a drunk who got poisoned now.”

“I have no idea. We’ll know more after you solve the puzzle.”

“I’m not solving the puzzle.”

“Why not?”

“For one thing, it’s already been solved. See those pencil marks? It’s been solved and then erased.”

“Why would anyone do that?”

“I have no idea, but they did.”

Harper peered at the puzzle. “Yeah, there’s pencil marks left. But not enough to read. You’ll still have to solve it.”

“Come on, Chief, it’s bagged as evidence. You’re going to want to process it, find Sam Brogan’s fingerprints.”

Sam muttered a choice comment under his breath.

“What was that, Sam? I didn’t quite catch it.”

“Sam, take this down to the station, run off a copy. I want to know what it says.”

“You’ll have to wait, Chief,” Cora said. “Harvey Beerbaum isn’t up this early.”

“No, but you are.”

“Yes, I am. But I’m not solving any crossword puzzles. Particularly, not this one.”

“Why not?”

“Harvey solved the first one. Why? Because it wasn’t important. If you don’t let him solve the second one, everyone’s going to think it’s important.”

“Who cares what people think?”

“You do if it’s the Channel Eight news team. The last thing in the world you want is Rick Reed blowing the case out of proportion.”

“No one even has to know there is a crossword puzzle.”

“Oh. Bad move, Chief. To start withholding things from the public and the press. The word
cover-up
rears its ugly head.”

“Cover-up of what? It’s a stupid old newspaper.”

“Exactly. Unless you make a big thing out of it. After breakfast, run it to Harvey Beerbaum. Point out how it’s an old puzzle from the paper. Ask him if he remembers solving it before.”

“Why should he?”

“I don’t know. Some of these puzzle people, they have photographic memories.”

“These puzzle people? You exclude yourself from the category?”

“I exclude myself from the crazies who let it be an obsession. I don’t remember this puzzle, but Harvey Beerbaum might. Not that it matters. All that matters is that you treat it as if it weren’t important, and exclude it as a potential clue. I hate to say it because he’s such a sweet old fuddy-duddy, but being able to say you gave it to Harvey will go a long way toward convincing people you didn’t think it was important.”

Before Chief Harper had a chance to argue, Sam Brogan came back in the door grinning from ear to ear.

“Got him, Chief!” he announced.

Sam was wrestling with a young man who was struggling mightily to get free. He was hampered by the fact that Sam had already clamped handcuffs on his wrists.

Cora’s mouth fell open.

It was the Guilford sisters’ nephew, Alan.

Chapter

14

“Found him sneaking
around in the bushes, Chief,” Sam said. “I asked him to stop, he tried to run.”

“Oh, big brave cop,” Alan said. “Like you outran me. I tripped and fell.”

“What were you doing prowling around the house?”

“Prowling? Who said I was prowling? I was on my way home.”

“At four in the morning? What were you doing up at four in the morning?”

“None of your business.”

“Now, see here. This is a murder case.”

“Murder?”

“If I could step in here, Chief,” Cora said. “Sam, could you go see if you could arrest anybody else?”

“Oh, are you running the police force?” Harper said.

“Just trying to speed things along. Sam, why don’t you unlock this young man. I’m sure the chief and I will be safe.”

“Chief?”

“This is the Guilford sisters’ nephew, Sam. I don’t believe he’s a flight risk.”

Sam grudgingly took off the handcuffs and left.

“Now, dear boy,” Cora said to Alan. “If you would allow me to expedite. Chief, you will recall Alan is engaged to Arlene, who lives next door. Alan has doubtless escaped staying with his aunts by pleading a motel room somewhere. Whether he has one, or whether it is merely an invention to appease his aunts, in either case he was at Arlene’s now, and what Sam Brogan took for guilt was merely his embarrassment at having the fact he was staying over with the young lady in question found out. The thing I don’t know is whether he was apprehended attempting to sneak back to his motel in case the police searched Arlene’s house, or whether he was merely trying to see what was going on. Which is it, young man?”

Alan was wearing slacks and a white shirt open at the neck. His face twisted into a boyish grin. “You’re quite amazing,” he said.

Cora shuddered. “Please.
Amazing
is one of those words you use to describe a bad date. ‘She was amazing.’ ‘She had personality.’ All the other synonyms for I-wouldn’t-touch-her-with-a-ten-foot-pole. I’m not that old, young man.”

“No, no, of course not,” Alan said. “Arlene is amazing, too.”

“Yes, I’m sure she is,” Cora said, dryly. “Well, Chief, you wanna interrogate this prisoner a little before deciding Sam’s cracked the case?”

Harper sighed. “You see anything?”

Alan shook his head. “No. Arlene woke up, saw the lights. Woke me up to see what was going on. I couldn’t see anything out the window so she suggested I go outside.”

“Well done,” Cora said. “The young hero ventures forth for his lady fair, gets nabbed as a peeping tom for spying on his own aunts. Ain’t love grand?”

Chapter

15

Cora was unhappy
driving home. And it wasn’t just that it was four thirty in the morning. Or that she’d been confronted with yet another crossword puzzle that didn’t mean anything, but which she had to sidestep solving. Or a sudoku that she could solve, but which she damn well knew would be meaningless.

Something about the case was bothering her. Was it because a harmless old drunk got killed? Or was it because a harmless old man got killed? Because the word
harmless
could be applied to both victims.

Or could it? How did she know they were harmless? The drunk had lived here for years and never hurt anybody, at least as far as she knew; she could check with Chief Harper on that. The old man, on the other hand, was a stranger. So was it fair to assume he was harmless? He might well have been a serial killer himself. Perhaps some ruthless bluebeard who set wealthy women’s hearts afluttering, and married them and murdered them to get their cash. Somehow, Cora doubted it. The old man hadn’t set
her
heart afluttering. Granted, he was dead, but even so. He certainly didn’t look like a catch.

He might have been some armed robber on the lam, laying low at a bed-and-breakfast. Perhaps even hiding out from his partner, with whom he had failed to divide the loot. The accomplice had shown up, poisoned him, and then stolen the money back.

And his wallet. And his gun. And any trace of his existence. And then stuck around to poison an old drunk just for the hell of it. No, because the drunk had seen him do it. The drunk had seen him climbing out of the window. So he poisons him and throws him in the window seat? Not likely. Cudgels him over the head, Cora could buy, but poisons him?

The way Cora saw it, these murders were either related or they weren’t. It made no sense that they were related. On the other hand, it made no sense that they were not.

If they were related, which was the main murder? It would probably be the old man, partly because he died first, and partly because he was a stranger. Nothing was known about him, so his history was wide open. As were the motives for his murder. Whereas no one seemed to profit from the old drunk’s death. Unless you counted Dan Finley and Sam Brogan, who wouldn’t have to lock him up anymore.

Cora turned into the driveway, drove up to the house. The lights were out in the addition. Sherry, Aaron, and the baby were asleep. The only light was the faint glow from the back hallway seeping out through the living room window.

Cora went up the walk. Slipped quietly inside, taking care not to let the screen door bang.

Someone was in the house!

Cora could tell at once. She didn’t see anything, she didn’t hear anything, but she knew. She fumbled in her purse, reached for her gun. Found it, pulled it out. She stood in the doorway while her eyes became accustomed to the dark. There was no one lurking in the shadows of the living room. But was that a faint sound from down the back hall?

Cora tiptoed through the living room, peered down the hall. The light wasn’t just coming from her bedroom. The light in the study was on. Someone was going through her things. Why, she couldn’t begin to imagine, but she meant to find out.

Cora tiptoed down the hall, peered around the door.

Sherry was sitting at the computer. She looked up, saw Cora holding the gun.

“Don’t shoot. I’m unarmed.”

“Sherry. What are you doing down here?”

“I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t want to wake the baby.”

“But you didn’t mind waking me.”

“You weren’t here.”

“You didn’t know that.”

“Why are we arguing? You weren’t here, I was using the office.”

“What for?”

“Catching up on my work.”

Cora looked, saw Sherry was constructing a crossword puzzle.

“Hey. I don’t have Crossword Compiler.”

“Yeah, I ordered it.”

“You ordered a program for my computer?”

“Cora, I helped you buy this computer. You got gigabytes up the wazoo. The program’s not a problem. You won’t even know it’s there.” Sherry frowned. “Where were you, anyway?”

“Oh.”

“What do you mean, oh?”

Cora told her about the murder.

“There was a sudoku on the body?”

“Yes.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“And you haven’t heard the worst of it. Sam Brogan found a newspaper with a crossword puzzle.”

“With a clue to the murder?”

“I doubt it. It’s from 2005.”

“Where did that come from?”

“Somebody’s trash.”

“Then how can it mean anything?”

“It can’t. But the chief wanted me to solve it.”

“What did you do?”

“Pawned him off on Harvey Beerbaum.”

“Poor Harvey.”

“He loves it. It’s not like the chief’s going to wake him up to do it. It’s not important; he’ll ask him tomorrow.” Cora pursed her lips. “I’m wondering.”

“What?”

“Two thousand and five. The other puzzle’s pretty old. Could it be from 2005?”

“Could be. That would be kind of creepy.”

“The whole thing’s kind of creepy. You got a killer littering crime scenes with vintage crossword puzzles that don’t mean a damn thing.”

“How do you know they don’t mean a damn thing?”

“The first one didn’t. The second one should be just the same.”

“How do you know?”

“Because no one plots a murder based on a crossword puzzle in 2005 and holds on to it all this time waiting to carry it out.”

“What did the crossword puzzle say?”

“I don’t know. Chief Harper’s taking it to Harvey Beerbaum to solve.”

“Will he show it to you then?”

“I suppose so. I could ask for it, but I don’t want to make him think it’s important.”

“Why not? It’s all right if it isn’t.”

“Yeah, but what if it is?”

“You just got through telling me it can’t be. What is the date of the puzzle?”

“Why?”

“You remember the date?”

“September seventeenth.”

Sherry began typing into the computer.

“What are you doing?”

“Google search.”

“What for?”

“Newspapers with puzzle archives.”

“You think there is one?”

“The first puzzle was a computer printout. It had to come from somewhere.” Sherry pointed to the screen. “Here we go. The
Richmond Daily
has archived everything since 1998. We plug in September 17, 2005.” She pressed Enter. “Voilà.”

Cora looked over Sherry’s shoulder. “That’s the puzzle?”

“That’s right. Now I click on Printable Version, and there we go.”

The printer spat out a copy of the puzzle. Sherry handed it to Cora. “Here you go.”

Across

  1  Flat topper

  4  Letter starter

  8  Saturday-night hire, perhaps

14  Work of Sappho

15  1-Across material

16  Capital that replaced Istanbul

17  Start of a message