Corpus de Crossword (21 page)

Belle only nodded. “Do the Bazinne children come to story hour?”

“Frank's and Luke's little ones?” Sylvia laughed. “Oh, my, no!” Then her eyes opened wide and her mouth snapped shut around the final “o.” Belle could see she was thinking. Hard. “Let me show you around our cozy space, Miss … Belle. You may not know it, but this used to be Taneysville's school back in the old days … a one-room affair with a second chamber at the rear to house a teacher, who was responsible for educating the students as well as maintaining the building, keeping the woodfire burning, and all …” Sylvia babbled away as she led Belle through the stacks.

“… And this is where we keep pictures of our past and present … That's Tree Hoffmeyer, you see there. He's from Taneysville, if you didn't already know … May, who I just told you about? She's Tree's grandmother. Her husband, Milt, owns the general store. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree out here … Oh, my, I didn't mean to force that awful pun on you.” Sylvia laughed, giggled actually, her round face breaking into childlike dimples. “Anyway, the town's awfully proud of young Milt. Our favorite son, I guess you might say … May lent me those boyhood snaps … wanted to inspire the local kids … That's Amanda Mott in that picture with him …” She hesitated. “Well, no matter … As I was saying, we're all mighty pleased for young Milt's success …”

Belle let the chatter continue, but her mind kept returning to the Bazinnes. What was Sylvia Meigs avoiding? What was she purposely omitting? What was troubling her so much she needed to change the subject every time the family was mentioned? As Belle pondered these questions, her eyes traveled over the shelf of photographs: the library as a school; a waifishlooking, black-clad young woman standing rigidly among what obviously were less-than-enthusiastic pupils; an evening lecture captured in 1940s black and white, the glare of the flashbulb bouncing off darkened windows, the men sporting coats and ties, the women in dresses with dirndl skirts; then sixties Kodachrome and sixties fashions, although the adults were caught in poses almost identical to the previous generation's. Then snapshots of kids sprawled on the floor doing craftwork and drawings, a man Belle assumed was Father Matt reading from a large picture book, and finally several newspaper clippings yellowed with age. It was here that Belle's casual glance stopped.

“Who's this? Katie Vanovski?”

Sylvia Meigs did a little gasp and jump. “You'd know her as Paula Flynn.”

Belle stared blankly, so Sylvia continued:

“An actress. In Hollywood. She started life as ordinary Katie Vanovski of Taneysville. A long time ago—”

“I'm sorry, I've never heard of her, but she must be a favorite
daughter
of the town if Tree Hoffmeyer's the favorite son.” Belle smiled as she spoke, but Sylvia's expression grew suddenly taut and wary.

“Not Katie. She just walked out, walked away from the community, straight to Hollywood, and never looked back … Never kept up with her family, never shared even the smallest part of her good fortune … and I would imagine it was considerable. Not that she was a major star, but she was successful … had any number of roles. That was way before my time, though.” As if she couldn't help herself, Sylvia continued with a quiet “Katie—or Paula, as she decided to restyle herself—is … well, she's Jeanne Bazinne's aunt. Frank and Luke's aunt, too, of course. Though I don't think they ever really knew her …”

Belle took all this in. No wonder the woman pumping gas was bitter. How would it feel to be barely scraping by when your blood relative was living in the lap of luxury?

While Belle pondered these issues, Artie, the mailman, casually slipped his day's offerings into her postbox in Newcastle. The assorted junk mail, catalogs, and bills were dropped atop an envelope that had been placed in the box a scant half an hour earlier: an envelope that contained a black-and-white grid. Someone else seemed to have money on their mind.

“CHANGE” OF HEART

Across

  1.  35-Across, e.g.

  4.  Block up

  7.  Doc's org.

 10.  ___the ante

 13.  ___Maria

 14.  One of the Peróns

 15.  Winner

 16.  La La lead-in

 17.  Dudley Moore movie

 18.  Theater where there's no talking?

 21.  Oppose

 23.  Mr. Capote to friends

 24.  “Mother___”

 26.  Lyric poem

 28.  Whacks

 32.  Dad's dad

 35.  Expert

 38.  Wrath

 39.  Word with steak or sauce

 40.  Reminder

 41.  By way of

 42.  Mint a locution

 45.  Turkish title

 47.  Hirschfeld girl

 48.  Acting awards

 51.  The good earth

 52.  Mr. Williams

 53.  Cap

 54.  Flower base

 56.  Desire

 59.  Vitamin doses; abbr.

 60.  Grill

 63.  Won out

 66.  Eleven leader

 70.  Certain acct.

 73.  Falter

 74.  Whichever

 75.  Also

 76.  Annoyed

 77.  The last mo.

 78.  Shad delight

 79.  Extra periods; abbr.

 80.  Summer in France

Down

  1.  Mr. O'Brien

  2.  “___Got a Secret”

  3.  Amusement hall

  4.  Disavow

  5.  Rara___

  6.  Portuguese territory

  7.  Iron or Gilded

  8.  Tuna ___

  9.  Cupid

 10.  Shoshonean

 11.  For

 12.  Diego or Marcos

 19.  Dramatist Thomas

 20.  Burns & Allen, e.g.

 22.  Try

 24.  MBA's goal

 25.  Mr. Parseghian

 27.  Apiece

 29.  F. W. Woolworth, e.g.

 30.  Just before Sat.

 31.  Ocean

 33.  Grease___

 34.  Palmer with an army

 36.  St. John's bread

 37.  Remove

 40.  Retreat

 43.  Mr. Williams

 44.  Startle

 45.  Fool

 46.  Retrieved

 49.  Inlet

 50.  Court time?; abbr.

 55.  Scratch

 57.  Decline

 58.  “Cool”

 61.  Headliner

 62.  Vegas game

 64.  Tax

 65.  Knocks silly; abbr.

 66.  Oft-used Latin letters

 67.  “Look Back in Anger” star, Mary

 68.  Bow

 69.  Bread choice

 71.  Sell out

 72.  Summer drink

To download a PDF of this puzzle, please visit
openroadmedia.com/nero-blanc-crosswords

CHAPTER 28

Belle recognized the car a full block away. Rosco's ancient red Jeep, parked smack dab in front of Hoffmeyer's General Store. What was he doing down here instead of prowling around the Quigley/Gordon work site as they'd discussed? And the second question—the really big question—was: How was she supposed to walk into Hoffmeyer's, order up a sandwich to go, and avoid broadcasting to all and sundry that the guy who was supposed to be building inspector Bill Parker was really her husband, i.e., private eye Rosco Polycrates?

“Darn,” Belle muttered under her breath. Her top-notch gumshoe scheme was obviously over before it began.

She pulled herself from her car and trudged disconsolately toward Hoffmeyer's. She didn't even
look
like a potential home buyer, nor did she resemble a city dweller out for a drive through the countryside.

The picture that first arrested her when she entered Hoffmeyer's—aside from the timeless appearance of the place: the floors with their oiled-wood planking, the antique cash register, the wall placards advertising products long-since defunct—was her health-conscious husband removing a large bag of extra-thick, spicy, fried pork rinds from the snack shelf.

Belle gaped. “Pork rinds?” she said as she pulled abreast of him. “You're eating pork rinds? What about cholesterol? What about fat content? Don't tell me you're actually planning to
ingest
that stuff!”

Startled by his wife's voice, Rosco looked up. He proved a good deal better at concealing their relationship, however. But then, he'd had a head start in the training department. “What's it to you, lady?” He smiled when he said this, and assumed a jocular ease: the look of a guy on the make. Belle, though, turned scarlet at his words. Even her blond hair looked pink.

Near Rosco stood a thin young man sporting a carefully combed ponytail. He'd also been reaching for a bag of pork rinds when Belle appeared. Instead of continuing with his purchase, he now dropped his hands to his sides, angling his face so that he covertly watched Belle while seeming to gaze at other products on other shelves.

“I … well, I … I just …” Belle struggled for words as Rosco held on to the cherished snacks. “I thought … well, you're right … It isn't any of my business.” She moved to the rear of the shop and the sandwich counter while Rosco's silent companion nudged him hard in the ribs.

“You don't do that, man … A foxy chick like that comes up to you, comes
on
to you, you
smile,
dude … You
smile
. You don't give her no
lip
… See, a chick walks over to a guy, and
instigates
the conversation—meaning, she starts it—well, you got it made in the shade … know what I mean …? Like, you're
gold,
dude …!” He put out his hand. “Name's Stu, by the way.”

Rosco shook it. “Bill Parker.”

“Parker … right … Bill Parker …” Stu nodded as the light slowly dawned. “
Right
… You met my partner, Big Otto? Up to Eddie's Elbow Room? Otto told me ISD put on a new guy …” His concentration returned to Belle, who was busy ordering her lunch. “Dude, you
really
blew it with that babe. And she's a real looker, too. I wouldn't mind makin' a little time with her myself. What can I say, bud? You gotta take some lessons on handlin' the ladies …” Stu began moving away from Rosco, then immediately returned.

“Hey, you're gonna put them dang foreigners up to Quigleys' out of work, ain't you? Permanent-like?”

“Well, I—”

Stu raised his hand in a conspiratorial gesture, leaning forward as he whispered, “That's okay, bud. You don't have to say nothin' in no public place … Otto told me you was a good guy, though.” He then walked to the rear of the store, hitching up his trousers and proudly flipping his ponytail.

Rosco followed close behind. His “subcontractor” for the Polycrates Agency was about to experience an interesting exchange.

Belle's incipient conversation with her would-be suitor was forestalled by the arrival of another customer—this one in a clerical collar; out of breath and making a beeline for the crossword queen. “Sylvia told me you were here, Miss Graham, and that you're considering purchasing property, too … Well, this is certainly Taneysville's lucky day!”

Stu stopped in his tracks. To say that his eyes were nearly jumping out of his head would be an understatement. First the schmo of a building inspector got the pretty chick's nod, then the nebbishy priest started trailing after her. “Huh …? You know this lady, Padre?”

“Ahh, Stuart. And how are you? I didn't see you standing there …” Father Matt smiled warmly.

“Just fine.” Stu seemed to have run out of conversational gambits.

The priest nodded and smiled at Big Otto's “partner” again. “In answer to your question, Stuart, I know Miss Graham only by reputation. I'm one of her biggest fans …” He turned slightly and extended his hand to Belle. “I'm Matt … Father Matt from Trinity Church.”

Stu stared at Belle. “I
thought
you looked like somebody special. You been on TV, right?”

“Oh, no, Stuart, Miss Graham's a wordsmith … She creates crossword puzzles for the newspaper. Very clever puzzles, too—”

“Huh?”

Father Matt gave Belle his full concentration. “It's a shame your husband couldn't join you, but Sylvia said you—”

“Husband?” Stu interjected, then glanced at Rosco as if to say:
You and me both got burned, dude. Big time
.

“Miss Graham's husband is a private investigator.”

Stu took this in while his feet began doing a slow backward shuffle. He moved close to Rosco and winked in stagy sympathy, while Belle stared from Father Matt to the long-haired electrician to the “building inspector.” Rosco noticed she was at a total loss for words—unbelievable as that seemed.

“Oh, yeah, I read about him,” Rosco said. “The PI who used to be a cop … Supposed to be a pretty tough customer.”

A response finally found its way into Belle's still-wide-open mouth. “Maybe that's because he doesn't eat pork rinds … just so he can stay
pretty.”