Puzzled to Death (29 page)

“But I didn’t do anything,” Mr. Doowacker protested. “I don’t understand. What did I do?”

Cora Felton sized him up. Ned Doowacker was dressed in a white terry-cloth bathrobe and socks. His
legs were bare, which made him appear tall and gawky, though he was actually no taller than Chief Harper. Cora took an instant dislike to him, wondered if it was because he had dismissed her puzzles as too easy when he’d signed up for the tournament.

“No one’s accusing you of anything,” Chief Harper said. “We just want to ask you a few questions.”

“Questions about what?”

“Where were you tonight?”

Ned Doowacker blinked. He straightened himself up, pulled his robe around him, said with what dignity he could muster, “I fail to see how that’s any of your business.”

“I’m sorry,” Chief Harper said. “I should have asked you to bring your shoes.”

“Shoes?”

“Yes. If you’re going down to the police station, you can hardly go in socks. Let’s go back up to your room and get your shoes. You might pull on some pants while you’re at it.”

Ned Doowacker was alarmed. “Police station? What are you talking about? Why are we going to the police station?”

“Because you don’t want to answer my questions. Which means I have to advise you of your rights, take you in, and give you a chance to consult an attorney. So come on, let’s get your shoes.”

Ned Doowacker fell all over himself trying to backtrack. He flailed his arms in front of his face, making him look like a tipsy stork. “Wait a minute, wait a minute. Did I say I wouldn’t answer your questions? Not at all. I merely wondered why you’re asking. Why
are
you asking, by the way?”

“Paul Thornhill was killed tonight.”

Ned Doowacker’s eyes bugged out of his head. He stuttered, “Pau—Pau—Pau—”

“That’s right. Paul Thornhill. That’s why we’re asking everyone connected with him what they were doing tonight. So you needn’t feel picked on. However, I must advise you you have the right to remain silent. Should you give up the right to remain silent—”

“Stop it! Stop it!” Ned Doowacker cried. He rubbed his face. “Oh, my God, this can’t be happening.”

“It’s happened,” Chief Harper said. “Now, let’s try again. What were you doing tonight?”

“When?”

“After the tournament?”

“Oh? Well, I went out to eat, of course. At a restaurant near town hall. So I could go back and check on the standings. They were supposed to be posted at six, but they were late. They weren’t put up till six-fifteen. Rather annoying, if you ask me. If you say six o’clock, you should do six o’clock.” Ned frowned, remembering his irritation.

“So you hung out until six-fifteen just to get the scores?”

“That’s right.”

“And how did you do?”

“I was in fourth. Really annoying. I should have been third.”

“You mean your score was wrong?”

“No, I don’t mean that. I just mean I should have done better. I was ahead of Zelda Zisk, sure. But I was four points behind Craig Carmichael.
Four
points. What a pain.”

“I can imagine,” Chief Harper agreed. “Any particular reason you wanted to beat Craig Carmichael?”

“Of course I wanted to beat everybody,” Ned Doowacker said. “But Craig in particular.”

“How come?”

“Because he was a ‘celebrity’ contestant.” Ned Doowacker held up two fingers on each hand to make quotation marks around the word. “Chosen by good old Harvey Beerbaum himself.”

“You resented that?”

“Well, was it right? How’s Craig Carmichael any better than I am, that’s what I want to know? Four points is nothing. I can make that up like that.” He snapped his fingers to indicate the speed. The gesture might have been more impressive had it been less awkward and actually managed to make a sound.

“You expect to beat Craig Carmichael tomorrow?”

“Of course I do.”

“And move into third place?”

“Absolutely.”

“You’re in third now.”

“Huh?”

“Paul Thornhill’s dead. You don’t have to beat Craig Carmichael. You’re already in third.”

Ned Doowacker tugged at his ear. “Oh. Oh,” he said. “That’s right, I am. But it doesn’t matter. I’m going to beat him anyway.”

Chief Harper frowned. His interrogation stalled. Unless Ned Doowacker was a hell of an actor, he didn’t seem that concerned with moving from fourth place to third. Which killed his motivation for murder.

Sensing Chief Harper’s distress, Cora Felton swooped in. “Mr. Doowacker, let me get something straight. You want to beat Craig Carmichael because he’s a celebrity contestant—why is that so important?”

“I told you. Because Harvey chose him. Out of the people at the barbecue.”

“Barbecue? What barbecue?”

“Harvey Beerbaum’s barbecue.” With a
how-could-you-be-so-stupid-not-to-know-this
look, Ned Doowacker said, as if explaining to a child, “You know, in his backyard. Here in Bakerhaven.”

Cora Felton frowned. She had a vague memory of some invitation for which she’d had to invent an excuse. “A couple of months ago?”

“Sometime in September, I think. We were all there. Me, Craig, Paul, Zelda, Don, and Bev. We were all there when he pitched the idea. A big-deal puzzle tournament for charity. But when it goes forward, who does he choose? Just those three.”

“Who are Don and Bev?”

“Don Hinkle and Beverly Platt.” Ned Doowacker waved it away. “They’re not here. When they weren’t picked, they didn’t come. I suppose I shouldn’t have either, but it made me mad. Made me want to win.”

“So you came here, determined to beat the people he picked?”

“Well, wouldn’t that serve Harvey right?” Ned Doowacker said.

“It certainly would,” Cora said. “So, when you finally got a look at the score tonight, you were ahead of Zelda Zisk. You were only four points away from Craig Carmichael. Unfortunately, Paul Thornhill’s score was out of reach. No way to beat him.”

“No need to beat him,” Ned Doowacker pointed out. “I only had to get in the finals.”

“Yeah, but could you beat him then? His scores were consistently better. He was top dog. You have to admit you had a motive for eliminating Paul Thornhill.”

“Are you kidding me?” Ned Doowacker looked genuinely surprised. “There’s been other murders. You suspect me of them as well?”

“We’re still waiting to hear where you were tonight.”

“Well, it’s somewhat delicate.”

“
Delicate
?” Cora twisted her tongue around the word. “Listen here, Mr. Scooby Dooby Doowacker. This is a murder case. We got no time for
delicate
. Let’s go get those shoes.”

Ned Doowacker gulped. “Can I trust you to be discreet?”

“Sure,” Cora said. “You can trust us not to blab the fact you were out with Charlotte Drake, a married woman who was Judy Vale’s next-door neighbor.”

Ned Doowacker, sucker punched, deflated like a paper bag.

“Is that right?” Chief Harper said. “So what were you doing having drinks with her? Perhaps trying to find out how much she knew?”

“Of course not,” Ned Doowacker said in a panicked whisper. “I swear. It never crossed my mind. I never knew she was the woman’s next-door neighbor until I started talking to her.”

“And then you pumped her for information,” Cora said. “About whether she saw you call on Judy the night she was killed. When it turned out Charlotte hadn’t seen you, you let her live.”

Ned Doowacker’s mouth fell open. He stared at Cora, unable to speak.

“And that’s when you went to kill Thornhill instead.”

Ned Doowacker struggled to recover. “Are you crazy? What are you talking about? Why in the world would I kill Judy Vale?”

“You seem to know her name well enough.”

“Well, why wouldn’t I after talking to her neighbor?”

“And just how did that come about?” Chief Harper countered. “That you had a rendezvous with this married woman? Do you want me to believe you just picked Charlotte Drake up in a bar?”

“Of course not,” Ned fumbled. “I saw her last night. At Fun Night. At the dessert table, getting a cup of decaffeinated coffee. She asked me out for drinks.”

“Charlotte Drake asked you out?”

“She asked me to meet her at the Rainbow Room. That’s what I did.”

“How long were you at the bar?”

“We were there from eight till nine.”

“What did you do then?”

“Went for a drive, if it’s any of your business.”

“Anyone see you where you parked your car?”

“I didn’t say I parked the car.”

“No, you didn’t. Anyone see you driving around, parked, or flying to the moon, for that matter? Anyone at all besides this married woman who can vouch for your whereabouts at the time?”

“Isn’t she enough?”

“I don’t know. I’ll have to talk to her. Should I do that now? Her husband’s probably home.”

Ned Doowacker put up his hands. “Please, please. This is awful. I was with her from eight to eleven. She was with me the whole time. I couldn’t possibly have killed Paul Thornhill. But there’s no reason to go about it this way. Good God, don’t get them out of bed. I’m cooperating, what more do you want?”

Chief Harper’s face hardened. “I would like to know one thing, Mr. Doowacker. Not to knock your prowess as a ladies’ man, but it strikes me as somewhat extraordinary that in the middle of a crowded event you walk up
to a woman you never met before, whose husband happens to be there, and charm her into asking you out the next night. I can think of a lot of men in the world who would like to have your skill.”

Ned frowned. “What do you mean, a woman I never met before? Did I say I never met her before?”

“Oh? When did you meet her?”

“Back in September, when Harvey had the barbecue.”

“You mean Mrs. Drake was at the barbecue?”

“No, of course not. But I stayed over. It’s a trek from Bakerhaven back to New York, and I don’t like to drive at night, particularly after a few drinks. Anyway, I went out to this bar, the Rainbow Room, and that’s where I met her.”

“Her husband wasn’t there?” Cora asked.

“No, of course not. That’s how I got to know her. Because he wasn’t there.”

“Who was she there with?”

“I don’t know. Some other women.”

“Judy Vale?”

Ned Doowacker made a face. “I really don’t know.”

Chief Harper moved in, grabbed him by the bathrobe, pulled him up close. “Last chance. Think very carefully before you answer, or we’re going downtown. You met Charlotte Drake with some of her friends. Was one of them Judy Vale?”

“I tell you, I don’t know. It’s a while ago; frankly I wasn’t paying attention to anyone but her.” Ned Doowacker grimaced, sucked air through his teeth. “Now, she’ll tell you different. She’ll tell you Judy Vale was there and I met her. Well, maybe so, but it made no impression at all. Only I can’t tell Charlotte that, or she’ll think I’m a noodge. So tonight I’m just nodding and saying,
Yes, yes, Judy Vale, but I
don’t know who she was
. I don’t know if I actually met her, saw her, or even remember. Even though Charlotte says I do.”

“So,” Cora said, “Charlotte Drake will say you knew Judy Vale, despite the fact you claim you did not?”

“Sounds bad when you put it that way.”

“Sounds bad no matter how you put it,” Chief Harper said. “Tell me something. Were any of the others there in the Rainbow Room that night? Craig Carmichael? Paul Thornhill? Zelda Zisk?”

“Paul might have been. Craig and Zelda I don’t remember.”

“Uh-huh,” Chief Harper said. “But Paul Thornhill might have been. So you’re now putting yourself in this bar with
two
of the murder victims?”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Ned Doowacker protested miserably. “I said he might have been. I’m not sure. And as for her, I don’t know if I met her or not.”

“But you might have?”

“I might have. I simply don’t recall.”

“If you saw her again, you think it might jog your memory?”

“Saw her again? What are you talking about? I thought she was dead.”

Chief Harper nodded grimly.

“Good thinking.”

“Y
OU LIKE HIM FOR THIS?
” C
ORA
F
ELTON ASKED
C
HIEF
Harper, as they headed for the funeral home out on Sunset Drive.

Cora Felton and Chief Harper were in the cruiser. Ned Doowacker was following along behind in his rental, in the hope of being allowed to go home after viewing the corpse.

“I don’t like him at all,” Chief Harper said. “Wrong type. I’d like Paul Thornhill for it a lot more if he wasn’t dead.”

“Being the victim does make him a less likely suspect,” Cora agreed. “So what’s wrong with Ned Doowacker?”

“Everything. The guy’s too stupid to have done it.” Chief Harper grimaced. “I don’t mean stupid. I know the guy’s a puzzle whiz. But socially, he’s totally inept.”

“And yet he picked up a woman,” Cora pointed out.

“So what?” Chief Harper said. “Women are nuts when it comes to men. For no good reason at all they’re apt to
take up the least likely type and they won’t even know why.”

“You running for public office, Chief?”

“Of course not. Why?”

“Every now and then you come out with something, the publication of which would not be in your best interests.”