by Parnell Hall
Paul Fishman turned, bolted up the aisle.
“SUPPOSE YOUR MARRIAGE went sour.” Cora put up her hand. “No, not yours, kids. Yours is the perfect union, and if you don’t get married straightaway I’m going to line you up and shoot you. Aaron, I’m only giving you this exclusive on the condition that you stop arguing with Sherry at once and get married immediately.”
“What do you mean, exclusive?” Aaron said. “Chief Harper knows.”
“Wrong answer!” Sherry cried in exasperation. “The right answer is, I don’t need inducements, I’m marrying for love.”
“Exactly,” Aaron said. “Couldn’t have put it better. Now, what is it that the police aren’t talking about?”
“They’re not talking about a thing, because they don’t know anything, and they won’t until the boys start ratting each other out. But I’ll tell you what hap- pened and you can quote me on it, and then if I’m wrong they can sue me for slander. At least they won’t sue me for plagiarism.”
Cora settled back in her chair, lit a cigarette. Sherry didn’t even bother with a token protest.
“We start with the marriage going bad. Mimi and Chuck’s marriage. I should have had a huge hint to begin with when she asked me for that puzzle. When a wife needs a crossword puzzle to tell her husband she wrecked the car, this is not a marriage made in heaven. You gotta believe things were on the skids way before she drove into that pole.
“So what’s the problem? Well, they’re newlyweds, her husband’s a young lawyer, he’s not making too much money, they recently got married and had a kid, or vice versa, and moved to town. What happens but Chuck falls in with Paul Fishman, a rather unscrupulous young man with access to people’s photos. Paul comes across vacation photos every now and then where the husbands don’t match up with the wives. It’s easy to run a simple con game. Chuck approaches the victim with photos a client has given him that he’d very much like to suppress. He’s so apologetic, sweet, and sincere, the victims are actually grateful to him.”
“How do you know that?” Aaron asked.
“I don’t, but it’s a good guess. And it accounts for the money.”
“What money?”
“The hundred-dollar bills under the blotter. The way I see it, that loot is what got Benny Southstreet killed.”
Aaron frowned. “You wanna back that up a little?”
“Sure. When Benny Southstreet breaks into the study looking to nail me for plagiarism, Chuck Dillinger has a small fortune in hundred-dollar bills under his blotter. Which, of course, is blackmail money he was hiding from his wife.”
“And Benny Southstreet stole this money?”
“If only he had.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“If he stole it, they’d have made him give it back, and none of this would have happened. But Benny didn’t steal the money. He stole Harvey Beerbaum’s chairs.”
“Cora.”
“I’m sorry, but that’s what happened. Benny ripped off Harvey Beerbaum’s chairs, he left a message for Wilbur saying he had ’em, and he’s waiting for him in the motel. Who shows up instead but Paul Fishman, who wants his money back. Benny claims he doesn’t have it, and Paul takes him for a ride. They go to Paul’s place, where Benny is given another opportunity to recall where the money is. Benny can’t, so Paul brings Chuck into the picture.
“Chuck is horrified at the turn things have taken. Blackmail is one thing. Kidnapping is another. And it’s clear Fishman is intending murder.”
“Why?”
Cora smiled. “If Benny says, ‘Here’s your money, sorry I ripped you off,’ he’s a thief, and he isn’t going to talk. If he says he didn’t do it, he’s an innocent man. He’ll go straight to the cops.
“So they have to kill him. If they’re going to do that, they need a fall guy. Luckily, they have one. Mr. Wilbur has an appointment at two o’clock to buy his chairs. Easy enough to frame him. Paul and Chuck leave the motel room door open. They leave the gun in plain sight. Wilbur shows up, knocks on the door, gets no answer. Tries the knob and goes in.
“The first thing he sees is the chairs. The next thing he sees is the gun. He picks it up, checks out the unit. Finds it unoccupied. He leaves the gun, takes the chairs.
“They bring Benny Southstreet back, stick him in the bathtub, shoot him in the head with the gun Wilbur touched.”
Aaron put up his hands. “Wait a minute. That didn’t happen.”
“Right. Because Wilbur didn’t go in. If he had, he wouldn’t have taken the chairs, because they were Harvey’s, and not what he wanted at all. But he didn’t go in. I did. I was the one who touched the gun, took the chairs, and got framed.”
“But the gun hadn’t been fired.”
“That’s right. It hadn’t.”
“How can that be?”
“Perfectly simple. When I went in that motel room, Fishman was outside in his car, waiting for someone to go in and leave fingerprints on the gun.”
“What time was that?”
“Around three.”
“Then Barney Nathan blew the time of death.”
“Not at all. That’s where the ice pick comes in.”
Aaron’s eyes widened. “You mean . . . ?”
“Benny Southstreet was killed by an ice pick shoved through the back of his neck into his brain. Right about the time the doc says he was. Only not in the motel. Benny was lying dead in the trunk of Paul Fishman’s car while I was in his motel room playing with his gun. After I left, Fishman stuck him in the bathtub and shot him in the head. Which is why the body didn’t bleed much. The guy was already dead.
“Anyway, the gun with my fingerprints was fired into the back of his head in just the same spot as the ice pick. That’s why I made a fuss about two bullets. I was hoping Barney Nathan would make a pass at the bullet and discover the other wound.”
“But he didn’t?”
“No, he didn’t. But Paul Fishman didn’t know that. When I asked Barney if he found anything else besides the bullet wound, he acted uncomfortable and the prosecutor wouldn’t let the doc answer. That was because Barney had found drugs in the body, and Ratface didn’t want him to talk about it. But Paul was sure we’d discovered the other wound. That’s why he freaked out when I produced the ice pick.”
“Where did you find it?”
“Are you kidding? I bought it. I was waving it around in a plastic bag. You think Paul Fishman’s gonna look close and say, ‘Hey, that’s not mine’?”
“He thought you found it in the motel trash?”
Cora shrugged. “I doubt if he threw it there. I have no idea what he did with it. But just the fact I was searching the trash was enough to make him think I was looking for it.”
“So that was all a bluff?”
“Big-time. I was holding a pair of deuces.”
Aaron scribbled furiously on his pad. “Okay, I’m with you so far. But how’d you figure all this out?”
Cora gestured to her niece. “It helped enormously when Sherry solved the mystery of the chairs. Veronica Austin was Wilbur’s childhood sweetheart. He had a tremendous crush on her. Being socially gauche, he gave her chairs.”
“That’s a kind of strange present,” Aaron said.
“Wilbur? Strange? Surely you jest. Anyway, in spite of this awesome love token, she went off and married someone else. And proceeded to drop clean off the face of the earth. At least as far as Wilbur was concerned. Until a couple of years ago, when he had an epiphany.”
“How come?”
“He saw the chairs in an auction catalogue. So he bought them, hoping they were hers. Only they weren’t, they were her ex-husband’s. Who got four of the chairs when they divorced. And the gentleman in question was no help in finding her. The chairs were being auctioned off as part of his estate.”
“He died?”
“Yeah. Like an A. A. Fair title: Dead Men Can’t Sell Chairs. Anyway, Wilbur tried to find her, but he had no luck. So he hid the chairs, and reporte
d them stolen. Hoping the police would look for his, and find hers.”
“That’s a stupid idea.”
“What’s your point?”
“Why in the world would someone do that?”
“Men are not entirely rational where women are involved.”
“No kidding,” Sherry said.
“Guys’ll do anything not to let on they care. Remember that West Wing episode where Josh has the hots for Mary-Louise Parker, so he’s trying to invent some business excuse to call her? I think he finally came up with the funding for some project she was advocating that was going to be half a million short.”
“That’s really stupid.”
“I rest my case. Anyway, Wilbur couldn’t find Veronica by himself, but he had infinite faith in the police. If only they’d get off their duffs and do something. Which he wasn’t shy about pointing out.
“And it finally worked. I don’t know if that makes it any less stupid. Ironically, it took me finding the chairs that weren’t really stolen to do it. I put Little Miss Internet on the case, and she was able to do what Wilbur couldn’t.”
“How did you do it?” Aaron asked Sherry.
“I made a few phone calls. Not to pooh-pooh my own abilities, but I probably got further sounding like a girl than a dirty old man. People were glad to help me.”
“Sherry, sweetheart. Best not to reveal all your feminine wiles until after the wedding.” Cora smiled. “Anyhow, getting all that out of the way helped. Once you realize Mr. Wilbur’s a big red herring, the rest falls into place.”
“I don’t see how. You didn’t have much to go on.”
“Oh, I had a lot of clues. Mimi Dillinger told me about the missing ice pick. That started me thinking in the right direction. Mimi didn’t report it at the time of the theft. She didn’t even notice it was missing until after the murder. The ice pick was missing because Chuck brought it for Paul to use. Paul didn’t have one—what guy who lives alone in a one-room apartment has an ice pick? He couldn’t go out and buy one, because you don’t want to be seen purchasing the murder weapon on the day of the crime. So he asked Chuck to bring him one. Chuck may not have known what Paul had in mind, but he sure as hell’s an accomplice.”
“That stuff you asked Paul to begin with—about seeing the motel on TV and bringing the police your photographs—that was just to lull him into a false sense of security?”
“No. That was to put him on edge. It scared the hell out of him when I walked into the Photomat with that roll of film. He’s got Benny Southstreet bound and gagged in his apartment. I’ve got pictures of the scene of the crime. The film really shook him up. Which is why he made his big mistake.”
“What big mistake?”
“Not barking in the nighttime.”
“What?”
“I was looking for that type of Sherlock Holmes clue. Something that should be there, but wasn’t. And there it was, right in front of my face.” Cora gestured to her niece. “Sherry’s bikini shot. The guy didn’t even see it. This guy missed that? I don’t think so. Not unless he was really stressed.”
“When did she take that picture?” Aaron asked Sherry.
“Salesman’s convention, Aaron,” Sherry said sarcastically. “I was parading around in my bathing suit.”
“Anyway, after I blunder into the frame-up, Paul can’t believe he’s lucky enough to have those photos. He wants to get ’em in the hands of the cops. He’s watching the motel. As soon as the body is discovered, he phones in a tip to Channel 8.”
Aaron snapped his fingers. “So Rick Reed will show up so Fishman can claim he saw the motel on TV.”
“Exactly. As soon as they start broadcasting he drives up and turns over the photos. So the cops will get a line on me right away. And be sure to match my fingerprints with the gun.”
“I’ll be damned.”
“Bad luck for Paul Fishman, I’m no patsy. Next thing he knows, I come walking into his Photomat demanding my pictures. He is not pleased to see me. He’s just framed me for murder, and here I am asking him for the evidence. So, while I was there, he stole my gun.”
“What!” Aaron exclaimed.
“Clearly he is not a nice man.”
“How did he steal your gun? How did he even know you had a gun?”
“I may have flashed it just for the effect. . . .”
“Cora.”
“Well, he gave my pictures to the cops. Anyway, he slipped the gun out of my purse while I was picking up my film receipt he conveniently knocked on the floor. I’m sure he didn’t know what he was going to use it for at the time. But he wasn’t happy at the way things were working out. He thinks he’s framed me big-time for Benny Southstreet’s murder, and I’m out walking around like nothing happened. So he tried to gild the lily with my gun.”
“By shooting you with it?”
“By missing me with it. By making me think someone tried to shoot me with it, so that’s what I’ll claim. He probably intended to just throw the gun on the floor, but when I fell down and knocked myself out, he took the opportunity to plant it in my purse. Which was a risky thing to do. He’s lucky Wilbur didn’t catch him.”
“How’d he know you’d be searching Wilbur’s barn?”
“He sent me there. With the crossword puzzle about antiques. He’s been waiting for me to show up. When I pull into the mall, he grabs a duplicate set of photos and follows me to see where I park. While I’m in Starbucks, he slaps the crossword puzzle on my windshield, then waits in the distance until he sees me come out. Then he walks across the parking lot from the direction of his booth.”
“Where’d he get the puzzle?”
“Same place he got the one he planted by the body. From Benny Southstreet’s briefcase. He went through it looking for the money Benny didn’t steal. When he decided to frame me, he kept a few puzzles that might come in handy.”
“Can you prove all this?”
“Practically none of it. I’m hoping Chuck Dillinger rolls over on him. Be a good move. Guy’s got a wife and kid, not to mention a law degree. I’m sure the killing wasn’t his idea. Even if he did supply the ice pick.”
“Oh. Right. That was his.”
“Paul didn’t have to tell him what it was for. Chuck’s not the moving factor. I bet a good attorney could cut a deal.”
“Is Chuck representing himself?”
“Chuck’s not a good attorney. Even if he was, you know the old saying: A lawyer who represents himself has a fool for a client. I steered Becky Baldwin in his direction.”
“You didn’t.”
“She needs the work. And I gotta be a huge disappointment, not getting tried for murder, and all. Besides, it’s a good time for her to keep busy.”
“What do you mean?”
“Take her mind off the fact she’s not getting married.”
Aaron’s laugh was forced.
“What about the money?” Sherry asked, changing the subject.
“Remember what I said in the beginning? About a marriage that went sour?”
“You mean . . . ?”
“Mimi stole the money. After the office was broken into. She took it to see what her husband would say. And it’s the worst-case scenario. Because her husband says nothing. Absolutely nothing. The cops ask him what was taken, he tells them not a thing.
“That’s bad enough, but it gets worse. I find the torn corner of a hundred-dollar bill under the blotter. Sam Brogan asks her husband about it, and Chuck claims he kept a few hundreds under the blotter for emergencies, and it must be from one of them. I mention this to Mimi, and it confirms her worst fears. Chuck said there were two bills? And they were real? And he spent them?
“Mimi’s trying to work up the nerve to confront her husband when the roof falls in. Benny Southstreet’s murdered. And the puzzle she gave her husband is tied in to the motive. And Benny’s the odds-on favorite for the prowler who broke into her house.
“Mimi can’t believe her husband’s involved in Benny’s murd
er, but she doesn’t know what to think. When she finds her ice pick is missing, she’s really confused. Why would anyone steal an ice pick?
“Mimi’s freaking out. She’s sitting on five grand of illicit money that her husband won’t even acknowledge, but thinks the dead man stole. She tried to tell me about it, got cold feet. So I ran a bluff on her, and she caved right in. Once she confessed to taking the money, things fell into place.”
“How’d you get a line on Paul Fishman?”
“I have Chief Harper to thank. The chief traced the phone call Chuck Dillinger made from the service station pay phone to Fishman’s apartment.”
“How did you know about that?”
“Dennis, playing detective. He followed Chuck to the gas station, told me about the call. Actually, the jerk wanted to tell Sherry, but I headed him off at the pass.”
“You didn’t mention that,” Sherry said.
“It was on a need-to-know basis. Anyway, it was fine work on his part, and I made sure Chief Harper knew Dennis deserved the credit.” Cora shrugged her shoulders. “Of course, that meant letting the chief know Dennis was violating his restraining order, but what can I say? It was a moral dilemma.”
“Cora! You’re a wicked woman.”
“I prefer to think of myself as a wedding planner. Look how things worked out: I got that handsome Photomat guy arrested for homicide. That takes him out of the picture. I got Becky Baldwin busy defending his accomplice. And I got Dennis legally restrained. So you two can go ahead and get married.”
“Sounds like the perfect wedding,” Aaron observed.
“Trust me.” Cora smiled. “It always is.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Nominated for the prestigious Edgar, Shamus, and Lefty awards, PARNELL HALL is the author of seven previous Puzzle Lady mysteries. He lives in New York City, where he is at work on his next Puzzle Lady mystery.
YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO REMAIN PUZZLED
A Bantam Book
PUBLISHING HISTORY
Bantam hardcover edition published November 2006 Bantam mass market edition / September 2007