Puzzled to Death

by Parnell Hall

“There’ll be hell to pay if you don’t,” Chief Harper told her. “I got my medical examiner in there, not to mention the county prosecutor. I could do without Henry Firth, but I need Barney Nathan, and I need him now.”

  “He’s right, Iris,” Cora said. Her eyes gleamed at the prospect of calling off the tournament. “If there’s a murder, it has to take precedence. It’s a shame, but that’s a fact.”

  “Hey, whose side are you on?” Iris exclaimed.

  “I don’t have time for an argument about this,” Chief Harper snapped. “The fact is, I need the doc.”

  “I’ll get him,” Sherry Carter said. “I’ll slip in quietly and send him out. But there’s no reason to disturb anybody else.”

  “No reason except I might want to talk to ’em,” Chief Harper grumbled, but Sherry Carter had already slipped inside.

  “You mind telling us who?” Cora Felton asked the chief. “Or do you just enjoy keeping us in the dark? Who got killed?”

  “Funny you should ask,” Chief Harper said. “It just happens to be the witness you called on.”

  “The witness I called on? I called on a lot of witnesses.” At the look on Chief Harper’s face Cora said, “Scratch that, Chief. You’re right. I only called on one witness. Mrs. Roth.”

  “Mrs. Roth!” Aaron Grant exclaimed. “You’ve gotta be kidding! I went out there especially at her request, and the woman knew next to nothing. It was all I could do to dredge up a quote.”

  “She knew enough to wind up dead,” Chief Harper said dryly. “You mind telling me what it was she told you?”

  “Yes, he would.” Becky Baldwin stepped forward. As Chief Harper scowled, she added, “No, I’m not insisting you read Aaron his rights. And he’s not my client. But Joey Vale is. If this new murder’s connected in any way to the murder of his wife, I have a right to know. For starters, you mind telling us how Mrs. Roth was killed?”

  Chief Harper frowned, considered, then said, “Well, that’s one reason I’m gettin’ Barney Nathan. So nothing’s official yet. And this is not for publication. But it would appear that she was strangled.”

  “Like Judy Vale?” Cora was practically quivering with excitement.

  “Yes.”

  “Interesting,” Becky Baldwin murmured. “Just for the record, I would like to point out that I am here for the express purpose of getting Judge Hobbs to sign a release order for Joey Vale, who’s been locked up in jail since yesterday afternoon. I don’t suppose I need to point out the significance.”

  “Here, again, Barney Nathan should be a help,” Chief Harper said.

  As if on cue, Sherry Carter came out the door leading Barney Nathan. The doctor didn’t look pleased.

  “She tell you what’s up?” Chief Harper asked him.

  “She said it was an emergency. It better be important, because I was doing well.”

  “It’s important, Barney. Another homicide. Judy Vale’s neighbor. Dan and Sam are out at the crime scene. If you could take a run out there, I got some questions to ask here.”

  Whatever Barney Nathan had been prepared for, it wasn’t that. He went from indignant to efficient at the drop of a hat. “On my way,” he said, and hurried to his car.

  Rick Reed came out the front door, followed by his camera crew. “Hey,” he demanded. “What’s going on?”

  Aaron Grant flashed Chief Harper a pleading look.

  “I’m not ready to make a statement,” Harper said.

  “You don’t need it,” Becky Baldwin said. “Judy Vale’s neighbor got killed. The doctor’s on his way out there now.”

  “Hot damn!” Rick Reed said. “Come on, guys. Let’s go!”

  The crew clomped down the stairs, headed for the van.

  Becky Baldwin followed.

  Aaron looked after them, said, “Sherry, I gotta go.”

  “Of course you do,” Sherry said. “Cora, you don’t need me anymore. I’m going with Aaron.”

  Cora Felton looked betrayed. “Hey, wait a minute. If anybody’s going out there, it ought to be me.”

  “You got a tournament to run,” Iris Cooper reminded her.

  “Maybe, maybe not,” Chief Harper said. “My gut feeling is to close this game down and start grilling everyone.”

  “You’ve gotta be kidding!” Iris Cooper was shocked.

  “He’s not,” Cora Felton told her. “It’s a murder, Iris. A double homicide. We’ve gotta cooperate. It’s our civic responsibility.” Cora was really enjoying this.

  “She’s right, Iris. I’m sorry, but this is murder.”

  “I know it is,” Iris Cooper said. “You happen to have ten grand on you, Chief?”

  Chief Harper blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

  “This trivial little game has sold over a hundred tickets at a hundred bucks apiece. That’s ten grand we’d have to refund if you close us down now. Ten grand we don’t happen to have.” Iris jerked her thumb at Cora. “Due to the controversy over the charity Cora picked, in order to show support and make it a moot point, the selectmen went ahead and sent the National Children’s Placement Fund a check. Which means the refund money would have to be raised. And that’s just the entry fees. Wait’ll the out-of-towners start complaining about the money they spent on bed-and-breakfasts if the tournament doesn’t happen.”

  “I got a homicide here,” Chief Harper said unhappily.

  “No, you got a homicide there,” Iris Cooper reminded him tartly. “Shouldn’t you be out at the crime scene?”

  “My boys can handle it. Right now it’s my understanding Mrs. Roth was here for your so-called Fun Night.”

  “Where did you hear that, Chief?” Cora Felton asked it innocently.

  Chief Harper grimaced. “Every now and then would you mind if I asked the questions? One of the neighbors saw her there. Was surprised to see her there, really, her being so reclusive and all. Now, if I might ask a question, did you happen to see Mrs. Roth at Fun Night?”

  “As a matter of fact, I did.”

  “Did you happen to notice who she was talking to?”

  “Yes, I did. First time I saw her she was talking to Paul Thornhill. You know. The boy-toy celebrity contestant. He’d be knee-deep in chicks if he hadn’t shown up with his wife.”

  “Mrs. Roth was talking to him?”

  “Yes, she was. And you’ll get a chance to ask him about it, because he’ll be out that door any minute.” Cora Felton explained about Paul Thornhill’s habit of finishing first.

  “That’ll be handy,” Chief Harper said. “Did you see Mrs. Roth talking to anyone else?”

  “Two people, actually. Though one of them isn’t what you want.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that. Why isn’t it what I want?”

  “You know the mechanic, Marty Haskel?”

  “Of course I do. He services the cruisers.”

  “Oh, yeah? Well, I hope he’s happy about that. All he’s done since the tournament’s begun is bitch, bitch, bitch.”

  “Marty was talking to Mrs. Roth?”

  “In a manner of speaking. He was actually talking to Paul Thornhill. He came over to gripe about Thornhill’s wife winning one of the games. Mrs. Thornhill won the first game because her husband helped her. Marty Haskel figured that was cheating.”

  “What’s this got to do with Mrs. Roth?” The chief was no longer sounding quite so patient.

  “She was talking to Thornhill when Marty Haskel came over. Haskel became abusive, Mrs. Roth intercepted him. She led him away.”

  “Abusive?”

  “Verbally abusive. Anyway, that’s when she talked to Marty Haskel, but it isn’t what you want.”

  “And what is?” Chief Harper said through clenched teeth.

  The door banged open and Paul Thornhill emerged. He frowned at the sight of the policeman, as if Chief Harper were a contestant who had somehow beaten him out the door.

  “The police,” Paul Thornhill said, taking in the chief’s uniform. “Are you raiding the place?”

  “Har
dly,” Chief Harper said. “And you would be …”

  Paul Thornhill’s sea-green eyes widened. He chuckled and shook his head, as if amused at not being recognized. “I’m Paul Thornhill. I’m one of the contestants.” The phrase one of the contestants was also tossed off with a half chuckle, clearly quite a joke to those in the know.

  “Yeah, well, you happen to be the one I want.” Chief Harper sounded unimpressed. “I understand last night you were talking to Mrs. Roth.”

  “Who?”

  “An elderly woman who showed up alone. Surely you remember her?”

  Paul Thornhill shrugged helplessly. “I talk to so many people at these events.…”

  “You remember the man who complained about you helping your wife?” Cora put in.

  “Him I remember.”

  “Mrs. Roth was the woman who pulled him away.”

  “Oh, her. Yes, I remember her now.” Thornhill looked inquiringly at the chief. “Why do you want to know?”

  “She was found dead early this morning.”

  Paul Thornhill’s mouth dropped open, but nothing emerged.

  “The woman was murdered. It becomes necessary to trace her movements.”

  “But that’s ridiculous.”

  “Yes, it is,” Chief Harper said. “If I had to choose a word to sum up the situation, ridiculous would be a good choice. Unfortunately, that’s what I’m stuck with. The woman was killed. I have to find out why. So I’d appreciate the answer to some ridiculous questions.”

  “A harmless old lady like that. Who would want to kill her?” Paul Thornhill seemed overwhelmed.

  “Who, indeed? Can you recall what she was talking to you about?”

  “Nothing much. I had been pointed out to her as a celebrity. She wanted to know what it was like playing in tournaments. At least, that was what she kept asking. I got the impression she didn’t care about the questions, she just wanted to talk to someone famous. Not that I’m famous, but you know what I mean.”

  “She didn’t mention the other murder?”

  “The other murder? No, why should she?”

  “She lived across the street from the victim.”

  Before Paul Thornhill could comment, Craig Carmichael came out the door. He took one look at the assembled gathering and slithered away to his corner of the steps.

  “Who’s he?” Chief Harper demanded.

  “That’s Craig Carmichael,” Cora told him. “One of the contestants.”

  “Well, he acts guilty as hell.”

  “He isn’t. That’s how he always acts.”

  Ned Doowacker came out, looked around, announced glumly, “Still third.” If he noted the presence of Bakerhaven’s chief of police, he didn’t acknowledge it. “That was a tough one. Even you took longer this time, Thornhill. No matter. I’m still third, and if I get in the finals, anything can happen.”

  More contestants came out the door. Chief Harper looked at them, scratched his head, and motioned Cora Felton off to the side. Iris Cooper came too.

  “All right,” Chief Harper said. “I got a hundred people in there, and I haven’t a clue which ones are witnesses. You mentioned her talking to three people. This Thornhill guy. Marty the mechanic. And who would the third be?”

  “Billy Pickens.”

  “Now, there’s a name I’ve heard before. Is Pickens inside?”

  “I’m a cohost, Chief, not a ticket taker.”

  “What about you, Iris?”

  “I don’t even know Billy Pickens.”

  “Well, can you find out?”

  “As soon as the game’s over.”

  Chief Harper shook his head grimly. “No. Find out now. Otherwise, I’m stoppin’ your game.”

  Iris Cooper gave him a withering look but went inside. She was out a minute later with a clipboard. “Okay, I got a list of contestants here. It’s not alphabetical, but Billy Pickens doesn’t seem to be on it.”

  Chief Harper grabbed the list, scanned it quickly. He sighed. “Okay, Iris. You wanna keep your tournament going, we’ll effect a compromise. Leave Harvey Beerbaum in charge.” He jerked his thumb at Cora Felton. “But she’s coming with me.”

  AARON AND SHERRY FOLLOWED BECKY BALDWIN’S CAR as it bumped over the tracks and turned onto the short street where Mrs. Roth’s house stood. Two police cars, the doctor’s car, an ambulance, and the Channel 8 van were parked out front. There was a crime-scene ribbon around the porch. Officer Sam Brogan sat on the front steps. The neighbors were gathered in the side yard.

  Aaron pulled in behind Becky Baldwin, and he and Sherry got out.

  The Channel 8 news team was preparing to shoot. The crew set up the camera, while Rick Reed combed his hair and made sure the crest of his Channel 8 blazer could be seen poking out from under his topcoat.

  Rick Reed spotted Becky Baldwin, waved her over. “Ms. Baldwin,” he said, thrusting the microphone in her face. “As attorney for Joey Vale, do you have any comment on this second murder, the murder of Judy Vale’s friend and good neighbor—” He broke off and said, “Oh, hell! What’s her name?”

  “Felicity Roth,” Becky Baldwin said. “Yes, I do. My client, despondent over the tragic death of his wife, drank too much and was thrown in jail. He’s been in jail since yesterday afternoon. He was behind bars when Ms. Roth was killed. This second murder, unfortunate as it is, completely exonerates my client from suspicion.”

  “Nice,” Rick Reed said to Becky Baldwin. He turned to the camera crew. “Okay, on me. Medium close-up, crime-scene ribbon in the background. Are we focused? Good. And there you have it. The violent murder of Mrs. Roth from the perspective of Joey Vale, whom just a day ago the police were touting as a suspect.

  “Now we have two murders, and according to Joey Vale’s lawyer, we have two unsolved murders. This is Rick Reed, Channel 8 News, in Bakerhaven, Connecticut.

  “Cut,” Rick Reed said. To his sound man he added, “Remind me to loop a wild line of the name Felicity Roth.” He swung back to Becky Baldwin. “Of course, we probably won’t use that wrap-up. It’s early in the day, who knows what we’re gonna get. We always shoot a lot more than we use.” He flashed a mouthful of capped teeth. “Of course, I’m sure we’ll use you.”

  “Yeah,” Becky said, but it was clear she wasn’t listening. Having given her statement, she had no more use at the moment for Rick Reed. She strode over to Mrs. Roth’s house, where Sam Brogan was riding herd over the crime-scene ribbon. If anyone was immune to Becky Baldwin’s charm, it had to be the cranky Bakerhaven police officer. Brogan stroked his mustache, popped his gum, and declared, “Can’t go in.”

  “I know that, Sam,” Becky purred. “I’m just wondering what you can tell me.”

  “I can tell you you can’t go in.”

  “Can you tell me anything about the crime?”

  “Nope.”

  “Can you tell me who’s in there now?”

  Sam Brogan popped his gum.

  “I know it’s not Chief Harper,” Becky persisted sweetly, “ ’cause I just left him back at town hall. Is Dan Finley in there?”

  “I ain’t sayin’. You wanna count police cruisers, I can’t stop you.”

  “I’m counting two, which means Dan’s in there. You think I could talk to him?”

  “Nope.”

  “Why not?”

  “If he’s not there, you can’t talk to him. And if he is there, you can’t go in.”

  “What if he came out?”

  Sam Brogan said nothing.

  “Thanks for your help,” Becky said.

  “Pleasure,” Sam grunted.

  Becky Baldwin looked at her watch, snorted in disgust. She walked back over to Rick Reed. “I’m out of here. This is a waste of time.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Back to town hall to hunt up the judge and bail out my client.”

  “Hold up a minute.” Rick Reed seemed torn. “I should be here, the body’s comin’ out. But according to them”—he jerked his thumb at the neighbors�
��“old lady Roth was at your puzzle shindig last night, talking to your hotshot crossword-puzzle guy.”

  “Paul Thornhill?”

  “Who else?” Rick Reed said. He was clearly not pleased. “Listen, guys,” he told his crew. “Stay here and shoot the corpse. I’m running over to town hall to check out a lead. Soon as you’re done, hurry over and meet me there.”

  Rick Reed and Becky Baldwin climbed into her car and took off.

  Aaron Grant, watching them go, seemed as torn as Rick Reed had been. At least in Sherry’s estimation.

  “You wanna go too?” Sherry said to him.

  “I gotta follow the story.”

  “That’s the only reason?”

  “What other reason would there be?”

  “You tell me.”

  “No other reason.”

  “Fine.”

  Sherry turned her back, studied the crime scene.

  Aaron grabbed her by the arm, turned her around. He held her by the shoulders, looked at her.

  Sherry twisted away. “Don’t do that.”

  “I just wanna talk.”

  “You wanna talk, talk. Lay off the physical.”

  “I thought we had a relationship.”

  “A relationship does not mean pushing someone around.” Sherry exhaled, ran her hand over her face. “I’m sorry. My husband was an abusive schmuck. I won’t be manhandled.”

  “That was not my intention.”

  “Maybe not. That doesn’t make it any better.” Sherry paused, then asked, “What did you want to say?”

  “I was wrong. When I said there was no other reason. I hate that guy Reed. I don’t want him getting a jump on me. It really burns me.”

  “I can see that it does,” Sherry said.

  Aaron looked at her sharply.

  Sherry said, “You think the story’s there or here? Because you thought the story was here. You were there, and we came here. Now you’re here, and you wanna go there. Why the change of mind?”

  “It would appear there’s nothing here to get.”

  “In that case,” Sherry said, “let’s go.”

  “Where?”

  “Back to town hall.”

  “You agree with me?”

  “Agree? What’s to agree? You’re the reporter. I’m just along for the ride.”