You Have the Right to Remain Puzzled (24 page)

“T
ELL ME ABOUT
the money.”

Mimi Dillinger was blocking the doorway, so Cora couldn’t get in. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes you do,” Cora assured her. “The first time I mentioned it you acted like every small-time punk who ever got picked up for questioning. Right down to the shifty eyes.”

Darlene was crying. Mimi glanced over her shoulder. “This isn’t a good time.”

“It’s the best time you got. It may be the
last
time you’ve got. If I were you, I’d take advantage of it.”

“The baby’s upset.”

“So, what else is new? I don’t care if you change it, nurse it, or spank it. Just so long as you talk.”

“Can’t you leave me alone?”

“Not anymore. I got shot at last night.”

Mimi was horrified. “What!?”

“Yeah. As if I didn’t have enough problems. And that’s just part of it. Well, I’m tired of being a punching bag. I’m hitting back, and I’m hitting hard. And if you stand in my way, I’m hitting you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You know
exactly
what I’m talking about. And you want to tell me. I know you do. You told me about the ice pick. That was kind of a test run. If that had gone well, you might have brought up the cash.”

“What cash?”

“Don’t be dumb. The money under the blotter. The hundred-dollar bills. That might have been two, or might have been more. That Benny Southstreet might have stolen, or your husband might have spent. That might be real, or might not, but you think the police ought to test.
That
cash.”

“Oh.”

“Good answer. Not enlightening, but beats a denial. Come on, help me out here. I need to know if I got shot at for finding that piece of hundred-dollar bill under your blotter.”

Mimi’s eyes were wide.
“You
found that?”

“Let’s not get sidetracked. I want answers, and I want ’em now. After tonight, all bets are off.”

“Why? What’s happening tonight?”

“I’m wrapping up the case.”

It was a stone-cold bluff. Cora would have put the odds of her cracking the case as a slightly longer shot than her winning the Kentucky Derby.

Mimi bit her lip.

Cora whipped out a paper, waved it in Mimi’s face. “I got the goods. It’s all going down. The only
question now is who’s going down with it. I’m hoping it’s not you.”

“What’s that?”

Cora glanced at the paper. It was an old cable TV bill from her Manhattan apartment. She quickly shoved it back in her purse. “Last chance. In or out. What’s it gonna be?”

The kid was shrieking a blue streak, but Mimi didn’t seem to notice. Her voice trembled. “What do you want?”

Cora’s voice was hard as nails. “Tell me about the money.”

R
ICK
R
EED COULDN’T
have been prouder. “This is Rick Reed, Channel 8 News, bringing you an
exclusive
interview with Cora Felton, the world-famous Puzzle Lady, who has been arrested and charged with murder in the shooting death of Benny Southstreet. Miss Felton, why are you making a statement at this time?”

Cora, all decked out in her favorite Miss Marple wear, beamed at the camera. “Because the public has a right to know, and I want to tell them.”

“And you’re telling them
exclusively
on Channel 8 News.”

“No, I’m telling them live, in person, at eight o’clock tonight at the Bakerhaven town hall.”

Rick Reed looked crestfallen. “You’re not telling us now?”

“No, I’m making my announcement tonight. I’d be
delighted to have you there, just as I’d be delighted to have all of Bakerhaven.”

“You’re going to address the town meeting?”

“That’s right.”

“Are you going to tell us who murdered Benny Southstreet?”

“I don’t know who murdered Benny Southstreet. I’m hoping someone will tell me.”

“You think the killer will be there?”

“I hope not.”

Rick Reed frowned. “Why?”

“Because everybody else will.” Cora smiled. “And then I’ll know who the killer is. The killer will be the person who doesn’t have the guts to show up.”

“You think the killer will be afraid to come to the meeting?”

“Oh, yes. If he does, I’ll expose him. Or her. But if he doesn’t, I won’t have to, because we’ll all know who he is. The spineless wimp who didn’t dare to come.”

“And there you have it,” Rick Reed concluded. “An open challenge to the killer, to show up at the town hall tonight at eight o’clock, to meet the Puzzle Lady, face-to-face. We’ll be there, live, to see if the killer shows up, or wimps out. This is Rick Reed, Channel 8 News.”

Cora smiled. “I know who you are, Rick.”

“I was doing the wrap-up.”

“That’s fine, but I’m not done.”

“No?”

“Wouldn’t you like a little preview?”

“And how!” Rick preened for the camera. “And now, with an
exclusive
preview of tonight’s town meeting, here is the Puzzle Lady, Cora Felton. What are you going to be talking about tonight, Miss Felton?”

“The autopsy report.”

“What about the autopsy report?”

“The doctor only found one bullet. Which was a big break for the killer. There were two bullets. The doc only found one.”

Rick Reed looked incredulous. “Wait a minute. You’re saying there were
two
bullets?”

Cora smiled. “Can’t put anything past you, Rick. Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“You mean the autopsy report was wrong?”

“How many bullets were there in the autopsy report?”

“One.”

“You do the math.”

“And there you have it,” Rick concluded. “A shocking accusation from the defendant, challenging the findings of the medical examiner. This is Rick Reed, Channel 8 News.” He shot a glance at Cora Felton, mouthed, “Are you done?”

Cora smiled sardonically. “Am I ever.”

B
ARNEY
N
ATHAN WAS
right up front. Cora wasn’t surprised. She’d been ducking the doctor’s phone calls ever since the broadcast. Her answering machine was nearly fried from the volume and the language. She’d also refused to talk to him at the town hall. Through intermediary Iris Cooper, Barney had been promised he’d have his say as long as he held his tongue until called on, a condition to which he had agreed with great gnashing of teeth. Now the good doctor sat red-faced on the edge of his seat, ready to leap up at any minute.

Iris Cooper side-spied at him over the lectern. “Think he’ll keep quiet?”

“Or explode,” Cora whispered back. “I would say it’s a fifty-fifty bet.”

Rick Reed pushed his way through the crowd.

“Okay, we got monitors in the back to carry the live feed. We’re setting up some more outside.”

“Outside?”

Rick grinned. “Yeah. Our little interview really packed ’em in. We’ve got almost as many people out there as in here.”

“Just so long as the principals are in here,” Cora said.

“You mean like Chief Harper and the prosecutor?”

“I’m sure they got in. I mean like Chuck and Mimi Dillinger. And Veronica Martindale.”

“Who’s that?”

“My surprise witness.”

“You have a surprise witness?”

“Yes.”

“But you told me who it is.”

“So?”

“So it’s not a surprise.”

“I wasn’t trying to surprise
you.
Aim your camera at her when the time comes.”

“When will that be?”

“When I say so. Is it eight o’clock yet?”

“Just about,” Iris said.

“It doesn’t matter,” Rick said. “We’re not live.”

“How come?”

“It’s prime time. I can’t go live in prime time. Not unless you plan to shoot someone.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Cora took the microphone, addressed the crowd. “Good evening. I’ve asked for this special town meeting because I’ve been arrested for murder. When you get arrested for murder they tell you you have the right to remain silent. But they never tell you you have the right to talk. In fact, they warn you if you do, what you
say may be taken down and used against you. I see the police are here, as well as the prosecutor and the judge, so if anybody’d like to take down what I say and use it against me, feel free.

“I challenged the killer to be here. I don’t know if the killer took that challenge, because I don’t know who the killer is. But everybody and his brother seems to be here, so let’s assume the killer took the bait. Who could it possibly be?”

Barney Nathan shot to his feet. “Miss Felton!”

“Ah. Dr. Barney Nathan. You would have been my last choice. But if you want to confess, go right ahead.”

“I want to object to you saying I botched the autopsy.”

“I didn’t say you botched it. I just said there were two bullets and you only found one. It’s a math problem. You probably miscounted.”

“There was only one bullet.”

“You say that now, but wait till I get you on the stand. Sit down, Doc. I’ll be right with you.”

Cora waited patiently until the doctor subsided, then clapped her hands together. “All right, if we can table the doctor’s ruffled feathers for a minute, let’s see who else is here.

“Benny Southstreet couldn’t be here tonight because I killed him. At least, that’s the police theory. I can’t say as I buy into it. It leaves a lot to be desired.

“Who was Benny Southstreet? He wasn’t from around here. He was from New York City. I am originally from New York City, so one might suspect a connection. One would be wrong. I never met the man in my life, until he showed up to accuse me of stealing his puzzle.

“With regard to the theft of the puzzle, I can only
say I was set up. Unintentionally, to be sure, but set up nonetheless. Mimi Dillinger wanted a crossword puzzle to help her break the news to her husband about her smashing his car. That’s Mimi sitting there in the third row with her husband, Chuck. Got a babysitter, did you, Mimi? Believe me, I can’t thank you enough.

“I gave her a puzzle of Benny Southstreet’s, slightly altered to fit the occasion. I did not intend to steal from Mr. Southstreet, nor did I represent the puzzle as my own. It was a private matter, no one could possibly care.

“Except Mimi put the puzzle in the newspaper. Benny Southstreet saw it there, and flipped out. He came here, and accused me of plagiarism. Anyone who thinks I killed him because of that is a moron.”

Cora nodded in the direction of Chief Harper and Henry Firth. “Begging the police and prosecutor’s pardon. I should say in their defense, it’s not really their fault. I’ve been quite adroitly framed. Benny South-street was killed at a time I was seen at his motel room, and at a time when I was the
only
person seen at his motel room. If I were a cop, I’d start looking pretty good to me too.

“Well, assuming I didn’t kill Benny Southstreet, what really happened?

“Here’s what I know so far.

“Benny Southstreet was a two-bit hustler, eager to embarrass me with a plagiarism charge in the hope of extorting some money. It wasn’t going to fly, but Benny didn’t know that. Hoping to support a suit, he breaks into Mimi Dillinger’s house and ransacks the study, looking for evidence of my having given her his puzzle. Then he breaks into my house, to check out my
computer. He wants to find the crossword puzzle in Crossword Compiler to clinch his case.

“Benny is a bit of a computer whiz, much more skilled than I am, and while he’s there he checks me out. Discovers I’m bidding on eBay on a set of chairs. And the person I’m bidding against is none other than Mr. Wilbur here, of Wilbur’s Antiques.

“This, I regret to say, is your basic comedy of errors. Mr. Wilbur had some chairs stolen. To trap the thief, I had Harvey Beerbaum offer an identical set of chairs for sale on eBay, hoping people would bid on them. Unfortunately, the only one who bids is Wilbur. I don’t know it’s Wilbur, so I bid against him, trying to judge his interest. And he continues to bid, not knowing it’s me.

“Benny Southstreet has no idea why we’re interested, but if the chairs are valuable, he wants ’em. He checks out Harvey Beerbaum’s residence, finds security minimal.”

Harvey lunged to his feet.

Cora added quickly, “Yes, yes, Harvey, that’s no longer true, anyone attempting entrance now will be immediately electrocuted. Anyway, he breaks in, steals Harvey’s dining room chairs, and offers to sell them to Mr. Wilbur, who actually had an appointment with him at the motel, right around the time Benny was killed.”

Wilbur sputtered angrily.

“Hang on, Mr. Wilbur. You’ll get an opportunity to deny you killed him. So will anyone else who takes exception to what I’m about to say.”

Cora spread her hands. “I’m laying out what happened here. To do that, I’m going to ask questions of some of the people involved. Please understand you are
under no obligation to answer them. On the other hand, if you do, no one’s going to cross-examine you, because this isn’t a trial.”

“Now, just a minute,” prosecutor Henry Firth said.

“And that goes for you, too, Mr. Firth. If I ask you questions, you have every right not to answer.”

“
/
may have some questions.”

“Then you can call your own town meeting. But you can’t ask ’em here.”

“Wait a minute. You can’t do that.”

“Why?”

“Well… I don’t like it.”

“I don’t believe that’s a legal reason. Let’s ask Judge Hobbs. Judge, do we care what the prosecutor likes?”

The elderly jurist smiled. “You’re asking my opinion? I thought I had no jurisdiction here.”

“See?” Cora said. “He has the right attitude. Okay, I’m going to make my presentation. Unless, of course, the prosecution insists on taking part. In which case we can all go home.”

There were rumblings, and shouts of “No!” from the crowd.

Rick Reed pushed forward. “This is Rick Reed, Channel 8 News, coming to you live from the Bakerhaven town hall. On behalf of the Channel 8 News team, I certainly hope we continue with this groundbreaking news story.”

“Excellent,” Cora said. “My first witness is Rick Reed, of Channel 8 News.”

The reporter’s expression was priceless. “Me?”

“Relax, Rick. I’m not accusing you of the crime. But you were at the motel the afternoon it was discovered. Channel 8 carried live pictures of the body being taken away.”

Rick glowed with pride. “That’s right. We did.”

“How did it happen you got there so fast?”

“I think you’ll find Channel 8 News is often first on the scene.”

“This particular instance. How did you get the lead?”

“Someone phoned in a tip.”

“To you?”

“No. To the station.”

“Are you sure of that?”

“Yes, because there was some discussion over whether it was legit, and whether we should go. Sometimes these things are pranks.”

“But this one wasn’t?”

“It sure wasn’t.”

“So that’s why Channel 8 had live coverage from the motel?”

“That’s right.”

“Thank you very much.” Cora looked out over the audience. “I’d like to ask a few questions of Miss Veronica Martindale. Miss Martindale, if you would come up here, please.”

A rather distinguished-looking elderly woman in the back of the room got up and made her way down the center aisle. Her face was lean and unlined as if from a dozen face-lifts, though it was obvious she had never had a single one. She was slender, walked with a slight limp.

Cora Felton gave way, shared the stage with her for the camera. “You are Veronica Martindale?”

“That’s right.” Her voice was full, not at all reedy and old.

“Is that your married name?”

“Yes, it is.”

“You’re married?”

“Divorced.”

“What is your maiden name?”

“Austin. Veronica Austin.”

In the back of the room, Mr. Wilbur struggled to his feet. “Ronnie?” he croaked. He cleared his throat, gawked. “Ronnie!”

“That’s right. Mr. Wilbur. Miss Ronnie
Austin.”
Cora beamed. “I think she can help you out with those chairs.”