The Crossword Murder (7 page)

“Maybe …” she finally agreed. “But I don't think he would have bought hose like that … Not if he wanted to pretend a woman had tied him up.”

Belle edged past the bed, and entered the bathroom, from which Rosco heard a startled gasp. “You'd have to be a perfect physical specimen to face this house of horrors every morning.”

Rosco joined her. “He was into looking at himself, that's for sure.” Life-sized and miniature Belles and Roscos ricocheted across every flat surface, mirroring and distorting the pair until they stood backward, sideways and on their heads.

“The Thompson Briephs mutual admiration society,” Belle murmured while Rosco studiously failed to respond. “There's something definitely odd about this place,” she added. “Even you're beginning to look like a satyr.”

Belle returned to the bedroom, creeping past the hosetied bed to examine a cabinet containing Briephs' rarest treasures. The first artifact she spotted was a painted faience statuette of a woman whose tight bodice was pulled open to expose her large breasts. Her figure was hour-glass perfection, and her nipples jutted forward demandingly. Clenched in her outstretched hands were two writhing snakes that seemed to lunge toward the viewer. Belle had never seen such a perfect example of Minoan art before.

Beside the statuette was a steatite vase. Again, the applied colors were bold and bright, as if three thousand years since its creation hadn't intervened. The design depicted a boy with a tiny waist, broad shoulders and slim hips; a semi-smile was fixed on his face while his long, curly hair exposed his neck. The youth faced the backside of a kneeling bull.

“You should look at these, Rosco, if you want an idea of what I was talking about,” Belle called.

Joining her, he was silent for several moments. “This is the kind of stuff your husband likes?” The question was tinged with a healthy dose of disapproval.

“He's an Egyptologist, but, yes, he admires this period, as well.”

“I see.” Another long pause. “Well, live and let live, I guess.”

“Historically, the Minoan Age is a complex period,” Belle said.

While Rosco prowled Windword's dining area and kitchen, muttering a thoughtful, “One wine goblet appears to be missing from the cabinet, assuming it was a set of twelve … shards of broken glass on the floor near the sink …” Belle paced the living room, marveling at the peculiar time-warp feel of the place. It was like stepping through an art historian's monograph and into the presence of a dead civilization. The fact that Newcastle's harbor remained hidden behind windowless red walls only heightened the sense of dislocation.

She stared at the built-in divans; they only seemed to be lacking royal personages and their naked slave retainers. She imagined Briephs reclining here in splendor, but the picture made her shudder as if she'd suddenly taken a chill. To clear her thoughts, she decided to study the furniture's construction, curious as to whether Briephs had continued his strange fantasy by ordering authentic timber framing for the pieces. Careful not to touch the fabric surface, she knelt in front of the longest divan and peered beneath it.

What she discovered weren't wooden pegs, however, but an empty loose-leaf notebook. Three sheets of blank quarter-inch draftsman's graph paper hung loosely from the three rings; they were the exact type she used to construct her crossword puzzles. Without thinking, she grabbed the notebook. “Rosco, look at this. Thompson's workbook.” Hurrying toward the kitchen, she met Rosco halfway.

“We should be careful about what we touch. In case the police decide to dust.”

“I completely forgot … I'm sorry. I was being so careful before.”

“Where did you find it?”

Belle gestured sheepishly. “Under the large divan …”

“I guess there's no harm done. But in case the police do come out to dust for prints …” Rosco shrugged. “Well, we know whose not to take seriously.” He studied the notebook. “Just blank pages.”

“I know. Isn't that weird?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if he was anything like me, he would've had some work in progress. I think something's missing.”

Back at home, Belle was tempted to take the rest of the day off. Her jaunt with Rosco had left her restless and vaguely dissatisfied with life. Her existence seemed pat and ordinary, and she felt momentary dismay as she walked through the front door and stared at the perfect harmony of the entry hall and living room. The rooms looked like a layout for a Martha Stewart photo-shoot: “How to restore and renovate your charming period home.”

Belle silently cursed her absent husband for his impeccable taste, but that sentiment only aroused more complex emotions. Garet had seemed such a wonderful match when they'd wed: An intellect to challenge hers, complementary interests; she'd imagined a cozy future spent solving philosophical conundrums, a circle of fascinating and witty friends, long, convivial dinners pondering themes of earth-shattering relevance. But somewhere along the way their dual personalities had begun to drift irretrievably apart, leaving Garet to increasingly withdraw into his work while Belle “played” at making word games. Even her prowess at language had ceased to impress and charm him. It seemed to Belle that he somehow felt she had failed to meet her potential.

Belle sighed and wandered toward her office, snagging a plate of deviled eggs from the fridge on the way. She compulsively gulped down two, then lifted the copy of the morning
Herald
from the floor.

“Well, let's see what the competition's up to.” Until she'd said the words aloud, Belle hadn't considered that it would be necessary for the
Herald
to replace Thompson Briephs. She flipped through the entertainment section of the rival paper, wondering who had edited the daily puzzle.

When she found the crossword on page 16, she was startled at its unconventional form; letters had been left dangling and the shape was erratic. Nevertheless, she scanned the clues for one of Briephs' trademarks, and at 9-Down, discovered what she was looking for.
Ref. work
… three letters, abbreviation starting with an “O” … She concluded that the puzzle must have been an uncompleted work on file at the
Herald
, then picked up her red Bic pen and casually began filling in the blanks. Belle prided herself on working in ink—although she was never ashamed to cross out one answer in favor of another—or another. Naturally, Garet considered this behavior “reckless”—and naturally, she made a point of writing
everything
in ink.

She muttered to herself as she worked, “
Theatre folk …
six letters … Hmm, I've used that one …
In a jam
…? Good … typical Briephs' pun … 31-Across:
Bacall to Bogie …
Darn, what was his nickname for her …?”

Momentarily stumped on 52-Across, she worked the Down columns until she discovered the answer, then sat bolt upright in her chair. She grabbed the telephone and called Rosco. “You're not going to believe this,” she announced without waiting for the customary exchange of pleasantries.

Rosco let out a heavy sigh. “Belle, I'm working on a case here—”

“I know, but I think I've found the answer.” Without giving him time to respond, she hurried ahead. “I just finished today's crossword in the
Herald
. Its form was peculiar, but you can't imagine what words showed up.”

“Belle—” His voice softened a little.

“TRAP, MAIL, BLACK and HOSE—”

“You called to play a game of twenty questions?”

Belle ignored his irritability. “It's obviously Briephs' puzzle, Rosco. And I think he's trying to tell us something.”

“Like what …? He was trapped and killed by a black male with a garden hose?”

PUZZLE #1

Across

1.
“I want ___ just like …”

5.
DHL competitor

9.
African witchcraft

14.
Produce

15.
Hit

16.
It's north of Mexico

17.
Sailor's order

19.
___Ray

20.
Mr. and Asner

21.
Gross home? abbr.

23.
Honker

26.
Top grade

28.
Snare

29.
Polish

31.
Bacall to Bogie

32.
Highway no-no: abbr.

33.
Lift

35.
Indisputable genius

36.
Russian gelt

37.
Actress Charlotte

38.
Manitoban

39.
Hosp. rooms

40.
Doctrines

42.
Morrison group

43.
Picnic pests

44.
End games for short?

46.
___Schwarz

48.
Cape move

52.
El toro's karma?

57.
Italian Olympian's goal?

58.
Stir up

59.
Type of hound

60.
Free

61.
Fashion mag

62.
It's pointless?

Down

1.
Charleses' dog

2.
“Georgie___,” Redgrave film

3.
Dry

4.
“Un-cola”

5.
Theatre folk?

6.
Rosebud, e.g.

7.
Antes up

8.
Retreat

9.
Ref. work

10.
“Let the devil wear___,” Hamlet

11.
Falter

12.
Ready, ___, fire

13.
Socks

18.
Flightless one

22.
October toothless one

23.
Pay-off

24.
In a jam?

25.
Cleans

26.
High and dry

27.
Lands

28.
Fish

29.
Cleaner

30.
Dead wives?

32.
Frosh rooms

34.
CA industry

35.
Not down, but out

41.
Daze

42.
Aimless jotting

43.
Mimes

45.
Send

46.
Cordelia's father's sidekick

47.
Indigo

49.
Above

50.
Gum ___

51.
Serf

53.
___ Ziegfeld

54.
Also

55.
Caviar

56.
57-Across, e.g.

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

CHAPTER 9

“N
O, NO, NO,
” Belle nearly shouted into the telephone, her excitement escalating in response to Rosco's obvious lack of enthusiasm. “MAIL, mail, M-A-I-L, not M-A-L-E. Not a black male, but blackmail. I think Briephs was being blackmailed. My guess is that's what he was trying to tell us.”

“I have the name of a good psychiatrist, Belle. She works for the police department.”

“So …?”

“I think you should be seeing her.”

“I'm serious, Rosco. I think Briephs knew he was in danger. And this puzzle was his life insurance. First of all, guess what 35-Across is?”

“Belle, I appreciate your enthusiasm here, but—”

“Just guess.”

Rosco let out an elongated sigh, though in reality her excitement was catching. Besides, he liked the sound of her voice. “Okay, I give up—what's 35-Across?”

“THOMPSON BRIEPHS.”

“And …?”

“Well, it's unheard of. You don't insert your own name in a puzzle. Plus, it's intriguing that his name just happens to have fifteen letters, don't you think? It fits quite neatly.”

Rosco opened his mouth, but never had an chance to speak. Belle was on a roll.

“Wait. There's more. 52-Across … I couldn't get it at first, but it turned out to be AFTERNOON DEATHS. A wordplay on Hemingway. How about that? Hold on, don't say anything. Listen to these words: BRIBE, PAYS and TRAP … Another thing, as I mentioned, there are form problems with this puzzle. Briephs left single letters hanging. He'd never do that … Never! No one would. Not even a rank novice. But when you add the dangling letters to the fact that he was strangled with HOSE, the picture becomes frighteningly clear, doesn't it? Well …? What do you think? You're not saying anything.”

“You told me not to.”

“I can't believe you're not accepting this supposition as fact. We're definitely dealing with a message from Briephs.”

“Come on, Belle, how could anyone predict they were going to be strangled with a nylon stocking?”

“If it had been a sex game, why not? Why wouldn't Briephs have surmised how his blackmailer would kill him? They'd probably played their bizarre little roles many times before.”

“Previous experience tells me that most men don't have sex with people who are blackmailing them. Besides, there's absolutely
nothing
that points to Briephs being blackmailed … No, my guess is, the folks at the
Herald
have just come up with some form of testimonial for Mr. Thompson C. Briephs and they weren't clever enough to get the form correct.”

“Well, there's one way to find out if I'm right about all this.”

“How's that?”

“We'll go over to the
Herald
and ask the editorial staff who created today's puzzle.”