The Puzzle Lady vs. the Sudoku Lady (13 page)

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Authors: Parnell Hall

BOOK: The Puzzle Lady vs. the Sudoku Lady
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Cora was not surprised to see Mrs. Cushman smiling. Mrs. Cushman was always smiling. The owner of Cushman's Bake Shop was a plump, doughy-faced woman who gave the impression she spent the whole day baking. Nothing could have been further from the truth. In point of fact, the woman couldn't bake a lick. Her muffins and scones were trucked in daily from the Silver Moon Bakery, and her genial smile actually reflected the serenity of being secure in the knowledge her wares came from the best bakery in New York.
“You have a note.”
Cora frowned. She thought she was familiar with all of Mrs. Cushman's greetings, but that was a new one. “A note?”
“Yes. On the bulletin board.”
The bulletin board on the wall of Cushman's Bake Shop served
two purposes. It gave people something to peruse while waiting on line, and it allowed people to advertise such services as math tutoring, piano lessons, and tag sales. Some of the regulars would leave messages for one another. Cora had never done it, but she had seen the slips of paper thumbtacked to the board.
“Who left it?”
“Didn't notice. It's in the top-right corner.” Mrs. Cushman pointed in that general direction and went to make a latte.
Cora's note was a piece of paper folded in fourths, which made it one of the larger messages on the board. Most weren't much more than a Post-it. Her name, Cora Felton, was printed on it in black fountain pen. Cora pulled out the pushpin, unfolded the note.
It was a crossword puzzle.
ACROSS
1 Turn on an axis
5 Element #30
9 “Great!”
14 Many a beer
15 “On the Waterfront” director Kazan
16 Balderdash
17 Invitation part 1
19 Take down a peg
20 Six in a million?
21 Kind of moss
23 Refusals
24 Remove, as marks
25 Invitation part 2
27 Confront
29 Stick in one's ___
30 With 41 Across, amount to bring
34 Glaswegian gal
36 Band together
39 Think tank member
41 See 30 Across
43 Lone Ranger's sidekick
44 So
46 Satirize, with “up”
47 Out house?
49 “Ah so!”
51 Invitation part 3
54 Drink garnishes
59 Seminarian's subj.
60 Kick out
61 Drafted
62 Bowie's last stand
64 Invitation part 4
66 Internet destinations
67 Spoken
68 Spy novelist Ambler
69 Public to-do
70 Hunt and peck
71 Where to play shipboard shuffleboard
 
DOWN
1 Sun block?
2 Some other time
3 Part of UHF
4 It makes a group special
5 Frazzled pair?
6 L'eau land?
7 Bottle caps?
8 Bedouin's transport
9 Like some lotteries
10 City area, briefly
11 High-tensile steel product
12 Racetrack town
13 Artful Dodger of old
18 Snorkeler's heaven
22 Kindergarten song starter
25 Quitter's comment
26 Men on the range?
28 Chicken-king link
30 Fiddlelike?
31 “Yes,” at a wedding
32 Let some air in
33 All gone
35 “Pipe down!”
37 Hamilton's bill
38 Baseball Hall-of-Famer Roush
40 Cobra killer
42 Press into service
45 “A set of lies agreed upon”: Napoleon
48 Fort Worth sch.
50 Biblical priest
51 Chutzpah
52 Museum piece
53 Broad necktie
55 Fished for congers
56 Talked a blue streak?
57 Part of a military uniform
58 Tiny bit
61 “Out,” to an editor
63 Almost half of us
65 Atlas page
A young woman in line holding a baby peered over Cora's shoulder. “Oh, look, someone left you a crossword puzzle. Are you going to solve it?”
“I'm most certainly not,” Cora said grimly.
Cora went out, got in her car, and drove home.
Sherry wasn't there. Which meant Aaron must have dropped her someplace. It occurred to Cora
they
should have a bulletin board with pushpins to leave notes for one another, with so many people in the house. Of course, she was getting
out
of the house. In theory.
All right, how do you solve a crossword puzzle when you can't solve a crossword puzzle?
You bite the bullet.
Cora got back in the car, drove to Harvey Beerbaum's house. While Sherry and Aaron were on their honeymoon, Harvey had copped to the fact that Cora couldn't solve puzzles, a deduction on his part not nearly as miraculous as the number of years it had taken him to make it. And he was only half right. Harvey believed Cora could construct crossword puzzles; she just couldn't solve them. But in point of fact, she couldn't do either. However, for Harvey, half right was a triumph. Except when it came to puzzles, the man was remarkably dense.
Harvey came to the front door in a dinner jacket and a cummerbund.
“My, my,” Cora said, “I didn't ask you to dress.”
Harvey frowned. “You didn't tell me you were coming.”
“No, I didn't. Under the circumstances, this is quite an honor. Do you always parade around in a monkey suit?”
“I'm giving an award. At a charity crossword puzzle convention. You really should go.”
“Oh, I would,” Cora said, “except I'm …” She waved her hand. “Oh, fill in the blank. I'm too stressed to come up with an excuse. The point is, I got another crossword puzzle dumped in my lap and I need you to solve it.”
“I thought Sherry solved your puzzles.”
“She does when she's home. She's out somewhere.”
“It's that urgent?”
“I won't know until you tell me what it says.”
“Does this have anything to do with the murders?”
“I don't know.”
“Was it found at a crime scene?”
“It was on the bulletin board at Cushman's Bake Shop.”
Harvey's face fell. “Oh.”
“I'm sorry it's not dripping blood, Harvey. Can you solve it for me?”
“Oh. Yes, of course.”
“Wanna invite me in, Harvey? You look like the doorman at the Hungarian consulate.”
Harvey's living room was furnished in the style of IKEA and Louis Quatorze. A sprinkling of crossword puzzle memorabilia completed the decor. Cora sat on the couch, watched Harvey whiz through the puzzle. He did it so quickly she wondered if he actually retained a word.
“What's the theme entry?” Cora asked.
Harvey confirmed her theory by looking back at the paper.
“It's ‘At three P.M., I'll be home. Bring cash. Come alone.'” He looked up quizzically. “What does that mean?”
Cora shrugged. “I don't know.”
“And look at 30 Across: ‘With 41 Across, amount to bring.' The answer to 30 Across is ‘five,' and the answer to 41 Across is ‘hundred.' So the amount to bring is five hundred. That must mean dollars. Someone wants someone to bring five
hundred dollars to their home at three P.M.? Is that what it means?”
“I don't know,” Cora said.
But she did.
Cora hated spying on people. Well, actually she liked it. But only when it was of her own volition. She didn't like to be coerced into it. Enticed into it. By some manipulative schemer. She had half a mind not to go.
Yeah, right. The woman goes to all the trouble to create a crossword puzzle in order to lure her into an intricate trap, she at least ought to find out what her game was.
She wasn't concerned with who. That was easy. Thelma Wilson stuck out like a sore thumb. She was the witness, the enigmatic woman of a thousand twitches. If Cora were the chief of police, she'd have locked her up. Unfortunately, Cora wasn't the chief of police. Dale Harper was the chief of police, and he would require more than her say-so to make an arrest. Cora had nothing to go on, just a stinking crossword puzzle. Still, she should have brought
him with her. Only he wouldn't have come. And if he had, he'd have queered her game. Could you still use that expression, or was it politically incorrect? Cora had had it with the PC police. As far as she was concerned, freedom of speech ought to allow her to say any damn thing she wanted, regardless of the number of letters in the words or meaning in the subtext.
Anyway, Cora had to find out what was afoot. And she wasn't worried about going alone. After all, she was packing heat. And as far as Thelma Wilson was concerned, Cora figured she could take her. That's why she hadn't told Chief Harper.
It had nothing to do with the undercurrent of blackmail. Cora wasn't really concerned that Thelma had seen her at the crime scene. Or that anyone might have seen her at the crime scene, assuming the blackmailer wasn't Thelma. Not that that made any sense. If the blackmailer wasn't Thelma, how was she supposed to know?
What if it was Minami? Wouldn't that be a kick. Only she was in jail. For the same transgression for which she'd be blackmailing Cora. That was convoluted even for her.
Cora parked a block and a half away, sat in the car. Weighed her options. There weren't many. She could either go or not. Not going wasn't an option. That left going. Cora hated that. It was like being forced to go.
Cora did
not
have five hundred dollars with her. She had rebelled at that. Bring cash, indeed. No way. If she was being blackmailed, she would confront her blackmailer and say, Do your worst. Publish and be damned. Or, tell Chief Harper and be damned. Actually, tell Chief Harper and
she'd
be damned.
What a mess. It was almost worth five hundred dollars to get out of it. Not that she'd pay it in a million years. Just in practical terms.
Cora waited for the minutes to tick down to three P.M.
To hell with that! If the woman was home, she could see her at Cora's convenience.
Cora got out of the car and started for the house. It was twenty to three. Early enough to seem intentionally early. Cora liked that. She went up the steps and rang the bell.
Waited.
There was no answer.
Cora rang again. Nothing. She jabbed the button repeatedly. She could hear the bell ringing inside the house. No one was home. Either that or the woman was making her wait, playing a mind game of her own.
Cora tried the doorknob.
It clicked open.
Uh oh.
She pushed the door open, stepped inside.
“Mrs. Wilson?”
There was no answer.
Cora closed the door behind her, tiptoed through the foyer into the living room.
Thelma Wilson lay facedown in front of the hearth. Her head had been bashed in. A poker lay on the floor beside her.
Cora graced the corpse with a brief eulogy, not particularly kind.
It occurred to her that at least this ought to get Minami off the hook. As long as the murders were connected. Though, how could they not be? The witness to one murder is rubbed out. It's gotta be the killer that did it. Too bad there wasn't a sudoku next to the corpse. That would ice it.
Cora looked around, but there was none. Too much to hope for.
Well, time to call the police. But not from this phone. She couldn't touch that. And she didn't have a cell phone. But she still had Sherry's. She'd borrowed it; had she given it back?
Cora jammed her hand down in her drawstring purse and fumbled around.
No phone. Just some papers. Cora pulled them out.
It was sudoku puzzles she'd been doing on the computer. One was finished, all ready to go. She looked it over. In every way it resembled the one found by the body of Sheila Preston. Different numbers, of course, but aside from that …
Cora slapped the sudoku on the floor next to Thelma Wilson's body. She stood up, took a quick look around. Had she touched
anything? No. Just the doorknob. No matter, she'd been there before.
Cora went out, closing the door behind her.
She drove straight to the mall, screeched to a stop, vaulted from the car, and hurried in the door, trying not to look conspicuous but moving as fast as she could.
There was a payphone on the wall just inside the entrance, a dinosaur left over from the time before there were cell phones. Cora prayed it was still there.
It was. Cora snatched up the receiver, got a dial tone.
Excellent.
She dug in her purse, pulled out a sudoku. Wadded it up, stuck it in her mouth. Chewed it around. Wasn't satisfied. She wadded up another, stuck it in her other cheek.
“Well,” she said, “can you hear me now?”
That was debatable. She sounded like a cross between Marlon Brando in
The Godfather
and a drowning mule.
Cora dialed the police station.
Dan Finley answered the phone. “Bakerhaven Police.”
“Rraargh!” Cora said.
“Excuse me?”
“Help!” she croaked.
“Did you say help?”
“Rraargh!”
“I can't understand you. What do you want?”
“Helmargh Vilsson!”
“Huh!”
“Helmargh Vilsson!”
“Thelma Wilson?”
“Arrrgh!!!”
Cora slammed down the phone, spat out the sudoku mush in
the trash. She got in her car and drove home. She figured that was her best shot. Dan got the name. She was sure of that. With any luck, he would figure someone was strangling Thelma Wilson, who had gotten away long enough to dial the phone. Of course, that wouldn't fly if they started checking phone records, but that wasn't the point.
Cora might have reported the killing, if not for the sudoku. Her being on the scene and the sudoku being found made it too big a coincidence. People would wonder if she was involved. She didn't want anyone getting the right idea.
There was a car in the driveway. A black sedan.
Dennis.
Son of a bitch!
Sneaking around when she wasn't there, surprising Sherry at home. Was she all right? Dennis wasn't stable where Sherry was concerned, could easily lose it. He could hurt her, whether he meant to or not.
Cora fumbled in her purse, gripped the butt of her gun, hurried up the path.
She reached the front door, flung it wide.
Minami and Michiko were sitting on the couch with Sherry. They looked up in surprise as the door banged open.
Cora gawked in amazement. “What are you doing here?”
“Cora, don't be rude. We have guests.”
“See?” Michiko said. “We should have called.”
“I did not know the number.”
“That is no excuse.”
Cora blinked. “You're here.”
“Yes,” Sherry said. “She's here. The police just let her go and she came to see you. We were having tea. Would you like some?”
Buddy, who'd been begging treats, circled Cora's feet and
darted outside. She called him back in, shut the door, stumbled over, and collapsed in a chair.
“There you go. Let me pour you some tea.” Sherry picked up the pot, filled a cup, handed her the cup and saucer.
Cora took a sip to calm her nerves. “How did you get out of jail?” She asked Minami.
The Sudoku Lady smiled. “They had no evidence. They had to let me go.”
“Isn't that wonderful?” Sherry said.
“Fantastic.”
“So,” Minami said, “the race is back on. We will see who can solve these murders first. There was not much that I could do in jail. You have a head start. It does not matter.”
Cora sighed. “Oh, for goodness' sake.”
Sherry frowned. “Cora, what's the matter?”
There came the sound of cars in the driveway.
“Excuse me. Someone else is here.” Sherry got up and looked out the window.
Chief Harper and Dan Finley were striding up the path.
“It's the police. I wonder what they want.”
“I have no idea,” Cora said.
Sherry opened the door for the officers.
“Good afternoon, ladies,” Chief Harper said. “Sorry to intrude, but we have a small problem.” He jerked his thumb at Minami. “No sooner do I let her out of jail but a body shows up with a sudoku attached. I don't suppose you happen to know anything about that.”
Minami's mouth fell open. “What?”
“Thelma Wilson's been murdered. In case you don't recognize the name—that's the woman who got you arrested for murder.”
Harper shook his head.
“Looks like she's done it again.”

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