You Have the Right to Remain Puzzled (9 page)

C
ORA SLAMMED THE
red Toyota to a stop, dragged her drawstring purse off the passenger seat, and practically flew up the path. She was eager to see what she’d found under the blotter of Mimi’s husband’s desk, if she had indeed found anything. It felt like the tiniest scrap of paper. Or cardboard. Or plastic. Or light metal, such as aluminum foil. Or cloth. It could have been a piece of a letter, a playing card, or a paper napkin without surprising her in the least.

If it was something so innocuous, Cora might have trouble figuring out what it was. She had plunged it deep within the recesses of her drawstring purse, where several similar objects presumably lay.

Cora burst in the door, bellowed, “Sherry!” There was no answer. She must be out with Aaron. Otherwise, she’d be home, since Cora had the car.

Cora went into the kitchen, lit up a cigarette. She took a saucer down to use as an ashtray. Sherry was always hiding the ashtrays to discourage her from smoking.

Cora sat down at the table, regarded her purse.

Should she dump it, or take out the items one by one? Dumping seemed good. Were there any items that shouldn’t be dumped? Ah, yes. She removed her gun, set it aside. Then, taking hold of the bottom corners of the drawstring purse, she turned it upside down and slid the contents out on the table.

It was a fairly imposing pile of junk.

Cora quickly removed the objects she knew to be hers, which included a makeup mirror, a knitting needle, and several ornate cigarette lighters, none of which worked, but all of which had sentimental if not intrinsic value.

An autograph book from her more lighthearted days, if such a thing was possible, boasted, among others, inscriptions from James Taylor, Reggie Jackson, and Paul Newman.

There was also a hairbrush. Cora couldn’t remember the last time she’d used it. Maybe it wasn’t hers. Even so, it wasn’t what she found under the blotter.

Cora pawed through the remaining articles, found birth control pills, a diaphragm, three condoms, and spermicidal jelly. Maybe it was just as well she hadn’t unpacked in front of Chief Harper.

A coin purse. A wallet, with ID cards and money. A number of pencils with broken points. A number of pens, none of which worked. A church key, left over from her drinking days. Damn. Cora could remember
turning the house upside down to open a beer bottle, and she had a church key all the time.

Never mind. What did she find under the blotter?

There were a number of small pieces of paper in her purse, mostly receipts.

Whoa! What was this? A small green and white paper. What the hell was that?

Cora held it up, squinted at it.

It had a right angle, and a jagged, torn edge.

She could make out the upper half of what appeared to be numbers.

One, zero, zero.

Cora whistled.

It was unmistakably the corner of a hundred-dollar bill.

Cora couldn’t recall the last time she’d had a hundred-dollar bill loose in her purse. Granted, there were huge stretches of her life she couldn’t recall all that clearly; still, the presence of large sums of money would have been apt to make some impression.

Hot damn!

Wait till Chief Harper saw this!

Cora snatched the phone from the wall, punched in the number. “Chief? Cora. I’ll be right over. I found something in the Dillinger house,” she said, and slammed down the phone before he could argue.

Cora’s moment of elation was dampened by the pile of junk on the kitchen table. She couldn’t leave it there. She had to sort through it, throw stuff out.

Like hell.

Cora held her purse up to the edge of the table, pushed her precious belongings back into it. She snatched up her gun and her car keys and tore out the door.

As Cora’s Toyota sped down the driveway, Dennis Pride stepped out from his hiding place in the hall closet.

Well, that was interesting as all hell.

What had Cora found in the Dillinger house?

C
HIEF
H
ARPER SQUINTED
up from the bill. “So?”

Cora pointed. “That’s a piece of a hundred-dollar bill.”

“I can see that. So what?”

“It may have come from under the blotter on Mimi’s husband’s desk.”

“May have?”

“There’s a very good chance. You could almost assume it did.”

“Why would I have any doubt?”

“It could also have come from my purse.”

“Aha. And when’s the last time you cleaned your purse?”

“I believe Nixon was in the White House.”

“That’s not encouraging.”

“It should be. A bad witness swears up and down
they’re right no matter what. A fair witness, who acknowledges the fact they might be wrong, has an opinion I can take to the bank.”

“That’s well argued. It does not cheer me.” Harper sighed. “All right. I guess I gotta ask the husband about this.”

“No, you can’t do that.”

Harper looked at Cora in surprise. “Excuse me?”

“If you ask her husband, Mimi will know I was snooping.”

“So?”

“I’m not going to be invited into many people’s homes if they know I snoop.”

“You’re investigating a break-in. You’re not supposed to look around?”

“Not under the blotter.”

“Oh, for pity’s sake.” Chief Harper raised his head, bellowed, “Sam!”

After a pause of several seconds, from the deep recesses of the police station came a rather exasperated, “Yeah?”

“Come in here a minute?”

Sam didn’t answer, but after a while there came the sound of police boots stomping down the hall, and Bakerhaven’s crankiest police officer trudged in. He saw Cora, scowled, stroked his mustache. “What do
you
want?” he demanded.

“You ever have to sneak up on a suspect, Sam?”

“No, but I got one ready for booking. If I can get the paperwork done. Which I can’t really do in here. What’s she got you involved in now, Chief?”

“That break-in you covered.”

“Nothing to it. Nothing taken, nothing damaged, except one small pane of glass. Case closed.”

“Not quite.”

“Why not?”

“You found something in the study.”

“No I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.” Chief Harper held out the plastic evidence bag with the corner of the bill. “You found this under the blotter in the study.”

“You planting evidence now, Chief?”

“No, just accounting for it.”

“I see.” Sam gave Cora his most withering look. “He means you found it.”

“Don’t worry, Sam,” Cora said sweetly. “I won’t tell anyone you overlooked it.”

Sam nearly choked on his mustache.

B
ECKY
B
ALDWIN’S LAW
office was over the pizza shop. Today’s special was sausage and peppers. Becky, with a fashion model figure to maintain, had grown immune to the aromas. Her clients were not so lucky.

“Damn, I missed lunch,” Benny Southstreet complained, sniffing the air.

Becky ignored the digression. She had few enough clients, she didn’t intend to lose one to a pizza. “But you have a problem?”

“Yes, I do. And you seem to be the only lawyer in town.” He put up his hand. “No offense, of course. I’m not saying you’re not good. You’re pretty young for a lawyer.”

Becky smiled. “How old do you think a lawyer should be?”

“I know that’s stupid. But you’re a girl. Not that
there’s anything wrong with a girl being a lawyer. I seen some pretty tough woman lawyers. The one who handled my divorce was built like a tank.” Benny shuddered at the thought. “Damn, that pizza’s driving me nuts.”

Becky wanted to tell him to get some lunch and come back, but she was afraid he wouldn’t. She smiled, said, “You must be in a lot of trouble to pass a pizza place to get to my office.”

“I’m not in trouble.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“No you’re not. If I were in trouble, you could make a buck. That’s how you lawyers think.”

Becky was pretty sure that was how Benny Southstreet thought. “What can I do for you?”

“You know any law?”

“One or two.”

“Is that a joke? I’m sitting here starving, and you’re making jokes?”

Becky’d had enough. “You ask me if I know any law. That’s either a joke or an insult. You think you just rent an office and hang up a sign? I’d like to see you pass the bar, mister.”

Benny nodded approvingly. “Spitfire. I like that. Not much muscle, but a lot of moxie. Think I should trust you?”

“I know what I think. I have no idea what you think. Or who you are. Can you afford a cash retainer?”

Benny put up his hands. “Hey. Just a minute. Who said anything about cash? We’re talking lawsuit, here. It’s not cash. It’s contingency.”

“Just my luck,” Becky said dryly. “Guy knows two legal terms and one of them’s
contingency.”

“Yeah, well, that’s right, isn’t it?”

“In a negligence suit, maybe. Is this a negligence suit? A personal injury?”

“Sure. I’m the injured party.”

“And how were you injured?”

“Not physically. I was stolen from.”

Becky shook her head. “That’s a matter for the police.”

“No it’s not. They’d just laugh at me.”

Becky was sure they would. An incoherent, two-bit gambler who looked like he’d stepped out of a production of
Guys and Dolls.
“What was stolen, Mr. Southstreet?”

“My crossword puzzle.”

Becky blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“See? See? You’re laughing at me too. It’s not funny. The damn bitch stole my puzzle!”

Dennis Pride barged in. That was the biggest problem with Becky’s office, aside from garlic and onions. No waiting room. No privacy. Anyone entering from the street interrupted any client conference. Dennis did so now, just in time to hear Benny’s complaint.

Dennis grinned. “So, some bitch stole your puzzle. Who might that be?”

“Dennis, could you wait outside?” Becky said.

“I could, but I’m not gonna. I’m supposed to check in with my lawyer. I’m doing it. Unless you got something else, I’m outta here.”

“I’d like to talk to you.”

“I’d like to talk to you too. But someone stole this guy’s puzzle. Some bitch, I believe he said.”

“You see?” Benny Southstreet said. “You see? This is the reaction I can expect. No one cares.”

“I think it’s an outrage, but you got no case. Unless the person who stole it was someone famous.”

“Oh, yeah? It’s the Puzzle Lady, for Christ’s sake. You think I got a case now?”

“The Puzzle Lady stole your puzzle? I like it. This is really good.”

“Dennis.”

“I’m going, I’m going. I would not want to interfere with this. You got a live one here. This could be worth some money.”

Dennis grinned at Becky, and ducked out the door.

Becky watched him go, then turned back to her prospective client.

Benny’s arms were folded. His head was cocked in an I-told-you-so pose. “Well,” he demanded, “what do you think now?”

D
ENNIS AMBUSHED
B
ENNY
Southstreet outside the pizza parlor. He’d meant to ambush him outside Becky Baldwin’s, but Benny foxed him, ducking in for a quick sausage and peppers. Benny was holding it over a greasy paper plate and feeding one end of the folded slice into his mouth when Dennis came walking up. “Get any satisfaction?”

Benny chewed the pizza, swallowed. “God, that’s good! Yeah, she’s taking the case.”

“You mind walking away from here so she doesn’t come out and see me?”

“What’s the problem?”

“I’m supposed to check in with her. I checked in with her. I don’t need a lecture.”

“How come you gotta check in?”

“I’m on probation.”

“For what?”

“Possession of drugs. And it wasn’t even my drugs.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“The court agreed it wasn’t my drugs. Not that they cared. Never mind. Tell me about your case.”

“I’m not supposed to talk about it.” Having made that virtuous pronouncement, Benny couldn’t
stop
talking about it. He filled in Dennis in between bites of pizza.

Dennis frowned. “So, the Puzzle Lady ripped you off?”

“You find that hard to believe?”

“I find it very interesting. That a woman with so much to lose would take such a chance.”

“Well, she didn’t know it was going to be in the paper.”

Dennis put up one finger. “I wouldn’t be so quick to concede that. Not with a lawsuit pending. How do you
know
she didn’t expect it to be in the paper? Maybe she knew the type of woman this Mimi What’s-her-name was and
expected
it to be in the paper.”

“Are you saying she did?”

“Not at all. I’m exploring possibilities. Which is what you should be doing. This woman she wrote the puzzle for—what do you know about her?”

“Housewife and mother. Husband works for some law firm in New York.”

“They got money?”

“Why?”

“You’re suing them. It would help if they had money.”

“They have some.”

“What kind of house they got?”

Benny shrugged. “Small two-story colonial. No great shakes.”

“You seen it?”

“Why do you ask?”

“I hear they had a break-in.”

“Are you accusing me?”

“Should I be?”

“Not unless you want a fat lip.”

“So what did you find?”

“Where?”

“At their house.”

“I’m warning you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure.”

“Why are you so interested?”

“The Puzzle Lady’s niece.”

“What about her?”

“I used to be married to her.”

“You still got feelings for her?”

“None of your damn business.”

“Any chance of a reconciliation?”

“Not much.”

“How come?”

“I remarried.”

Benny raised his eyebrows.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Benny grinned. “Ah! Struck a nerve.”

“We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you. If Cora Felton searched their house, what might she have found? That was important enough to turn over to the cops. We’re talking something small enough for her to stick in her purse. That she’d have to sort out from her other junk.”

“I have no idea.”

“Neither do I.” Dennis cocked his head at Benny. “Luckily, whatever it is can’t send
me
to jail.”