by Parnell Hall
Of course, this was all in Cora’s head. The bells were not silver, but some metal alloy or other. Nor were they bright. Indeed, dirt and corrosion had rendered them a dull green.
Cora couldn’t have cared less. She skipped across the street, took the steps two at a time.
The Reverend Kimble was somewhat surprised to see her, since her attendance at his Sunday sermons had been spotty at best. In fact, it occurred to Cora, unless she had stumbled in some morning from a particularly wild Saturday-night party and simply couldn’t remember, it was entirely possible she had never gone to church at all. In short, Cora wasn’t sure whether the Reverend did not know her, or knew her all too well.
The Reverend frowned and scratched his head. A gaunt man, with a hawk nose, an unfortunate Adam’s apple, and graying hair, the minister of the Bakerhaven Congregational Church usually managed to look distinguished. At the moment he looked befuddled. “You want me to perform a wedding next weekend? That is awfully short notice.”
“Yes,” Cora explained. “We were going to be married in August, but we had to move it up.”
The Reverend looked shocked and astonished. “Oh?”
“No, no,” Cora said. “Nothing like that. We changed the date to coincide with another wedding.”
“I see. You and the other couple wish to be married together.”
“Actually, no,” Cora said. “We were hoping to promote a conflict.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Cora waved it away. “It’s complicated. Anyway, it didn’t work.”
“I’m terribly sorry. Is there anything I can do?”
“I tend to doubt it.”
“Still, if I could know the circumstances . . .”
The Reverend Kimble might have wanted to help, but he was merely confirming Cora’s suspicions that clergy-men were as nosy as charwomen. She took a breath. “My niece, Sherry, has been married once before.”
“Sherry’s marrying young Aaron Grant? Congratulations. I couldn’t be happier.”
“No, she’s not. At least, if she is, it’s the first I’ve heard of it. No, it’s her husband who’s remarrying.”
“I see,” the Reverend Kimble said. It was clear that he didn’t.
“Sherry’s supposed to be the maid of honor.”
“At her ex-husband’s wedding?”
“He’s marrying her best friend.”
“My God, it’s like a soap opera,” the Reverend Kimble said, then flushed violently at her look. Cora was wondering which soap opera he watched.
“Anyway, she’s also maid of honor at my wedding.”
“I see,” the Reverend said. “So you decided to combine the two weddings.”
“No. I decided to have them on the same day so Sherry could only go to one. Her ex-husband decided to combine them. Do you do double weddings, Reverend?”
“Yes, of course.”
“I don’t suppose you could say you don’t?” The Reverend gave her a reproving look. “No, I don’t suppose you could. I guess we’re stuck unless you have a conflict. Could you say you have a conflict?”
“Now, see here,” the Reverend protested. “I don’t want to butt in.” It was all Cora could do not to harrumph. She considered that statement no less a lie than his saying he had a conflict would have been. “Since this other marriage is causing grief and anxiety, surely something should be done. Perhaps if I were to have a talk with the young man, I could make him see the error of his ways. . . .”
“I doubt if it would do much good in Dennis’s case.”
“You’d be surprised. There’s good in all of us.”
“Uh-huh.” Cora said it without enthusiasm.
“Ask him to come see me.”
“He won’t.”
The Reverend Kimble smiled. “Don’t be absurd. He has to arrange a wedding.”
Cora was pleasantly surprised. “That’s somewhat devious, Reverend.”
The Reverend’s eyes twinkled. “The good Lord,” he assured her, “works in mysterious ways.”
13
SHERRY HAD ALMOST GOTTEN THE LOWER LEFT CORNER OF the puzzle she was creating licked when the doorbell rang. She saved her work and closed the program. It was most likely Aaron, in which case she could have left the program open, but if she did, it would turn out to be Chief Harper, and he’d have some pressing reason to lead her straight into her office. Actually, closing the program was Sherry’s way of guaranteeing the caller would be Aaron. She smiled at the thought, went to the front door.
It was Dennis.
His shirt was open at the neck. The collar of his jacket was up. His hair was mussed, and his eyes were wide.
“Hi,” he said.
Sherry’s instinctive reaction was to take a step back. With an effort she held her ground. “You shouldn’t be here.”
Dennis laughed. “Now, there’s an understatement. I’m about to get hitched. I really shouldn’t be calling on my first wife.”
“I’m glad we’re in agreement.”
Sherry started to close the door.
Dennis put his arm up, blocked it. Not violently, but with force. There was no way Sherry could close that door, and they both knew it.
She felt an icy rush of fear.
“Why don’t you ask me in?” he said. “That would be the neighborly thing.”
Sherry could think of nothing to say. She stood there, confused.
Dennis grinned, and pushed on by. He strode into the room, flopped down on the couch. “Ah, this is the life. Give me a remote control, I could be right at home here.”
“You went by the newspaper today,” Sherry said.
“So, that whiz-kid reporter ratted me out? I’d have thought he had more guts than that.” Dennis patted the couch beside him. “Come on, sit down.”
Sherry sat in a chair opposite the couch. “Why did you go by the paper?”
“Why did you?” Dennis retorted.
“Who says I went by the paper?”
“I do.”
“You’re following me?”
“Hey, don’t get paranoid. Maybe I saw you coming out of there.”
“And didn’t speak to me?”
“You told me not to. You said to stay away.”
“Yeah, like that ever stopped you.”
“Ah, good one,” Dennis said. “So why’d you go by the paper?”
“To talk to Aaron.”
“There you go.” Dennis nodded enthusiastically. “That’s why I went too. To talk to Aaron.”
“You don’t know Aaron.”
“Not well, but I’m getting to know him. Sort of a dweeb, don’t you think?”
“That’s no business of yours.”
“Of course it is. I know you. I want the best for you.”
“What you want doesn’t matter anymore.”
His eyes hardened. “Oh, yes, it does. It may not have any weight. It may not have any influence. It may not have any legal significance. But, believe me, it matters. It matters a lot.”
“Why, Dennis, why? We’re divorced. You’re marrying my friend. Doesn’t that matter?”
“Not really.”
He said it calmly. Matter-of-factly.
It was cold. Chilling.
Sherry stared at him. “Good God, Dennis! You can’t marry Brenda just to get at me.”
“Why not?”
“Why not? Did you really ask me why not? Because I’ll stop you.”
“How?”
“I’ll tell her what you said.”
“She won’t believe you.”
In horror, Sherry realized it was true. She stared at Dennis in helpless frustration. He merely smiled.
Sherry stood up, pointed to the door. “Get out.”
“Oh, I don’t think so.” Dennis seemed amused. “We’re gonna sit here. We’re gonna have a nice chat. And when I leave, you’re gonna kiss me good-bye. That’s the way it’s gonna be with you, me, and Brenda. Just one big happy family.”
“No, that’s not h
ow it’s gonna be, Dennis. I’m calling the police. I’m having them come throw you out.”
Sherry strode into the kitchen, picked up the receiver from the wall phone, punched in the number.
His hand clamped down on the button, breaking the connection. “I don’t think you wanna do that.”
“Let go of me, damn it!”
Sherry twisted away, ran to the butcher-block table in the middle of the kitchen, kept it between her and Dennis. She made a break for the door.
He caught her in the living room, grabbed her by the wrists. “You think I don’t see your little game. Trying to provoke me. Get me angry. So I’ll hit you. Give you a bruise Brenda can see. That’s pathetic. I’m not going to hurt you, Sherry. I love you. Can’t you see that?”
“Get out! Get out!”
He smiled. “Sorry. No can do.”
Sherry slapped him across the face.
His eyes widened in amazement, like he couldn’t believe she’d done it.
“Get out!” Sherry slapped him again.
This time he caught her arm. His face twisted in rage. He raised his fist.
Raymond Harstein III staggered in from the bedroom, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He saw Dennis manhandling Sherry. “Hey!” he exclaimed. “What the hell!”
Dennis’s face darkened murderously at this intrusion. He flung Sherry from him, turned, and stomped out the door.
“Raymond,” Sherry said. “I didn’t know you were here.”
“I was taking a nap in Cora’s room.” He looked at his watch. “A rather long nap, I see. She’s not back yet?”
“No.” Sherry felt obliged to thank Raymond. “Good thing you woke up.”
He waved it away. “What was that all about?”
“Dennis thinks he owns me. Always has, always will.”
“Then he shouldn’t be marrying your girlfriend.”
“No kidding.”
“Why don’t you stop her?”
“She wouldn’t listen to me.”
“Maybe she’d listen to me.”
“I doubt it.”
“Mind if I try?”
Cora came in the front door. “Oh, good, you’re awake. Was that Dennis I saw tooling out of here? He left enough rubber in the driveway to start a condom factory.”
“I’ll bet,” Sherry said. “Aunt Cora, this double wedding isn’t going to work out.”
Cora looked offended. “Hey, like it was my idea? Sherry, trust me, it’s not gonna happen. I just had a nice talk with the Reverend Kimble. He’s on our side.”
“I’m scared, Cora. I’ll have to move again. Change my name.”
“Nonsense,” Raymond said. “Just go to the police.”
“It would be my word against his.”
“No it wouldn’t. I saw the man grab you. I’m a witness.”
“He’ll talk his way out of it. He always does. Even if he couldn’t, it wouldn’t matter as long as he can fool Brenda.”
“She seems an intelligent young woman,” Raymond said. “Surely she could see through that.”
Sherry grimaced. “You don’t know Dennis.”
14
BRENDA WAS IN BED READING A ROMANCE NOVEL. SHE WAS lying on her stomach, propped up on her elbows, with her feet idly kicking the air. Dennis figured she’d probably seen Drew Barrymore do that in some god-awful chickflick.
She smiled up at him. “Hi, sweetie. Where you been?”
“Out,” Dennis grunted.
He glanced around the room, irritably.
His suitcase was sitting open on a wooden chest. He walked over, inspected it briefly. “What you been doing?” he demanded.
“Reading. Why?”
“You been in my suitcase?”
“No. Why would I?”
“You take anything out of my suitcase?”
“No.”
“Or look for anything in my suitcase?”
“I haven’t been near your suitcase.”
“Damn it.”
“What’s the matter?”
“Someone’s been through my stuff.”
“Oh, come on. Why would anyone do that?”
“Some people are nosy.”
“Oh, big deal. It’s not like we’ve got anything to hide.”
“We can’t stay here.”
Brenda’s mouth fell open. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat up. “Are you kidding?”
“I’m not going to stay someplace where people spy on you. It’s creepy. Like the Bates Motel. How do I know they don’t have a peephole in the wall?”
“Oh, come on, Dennis—”
“Hey, if you didn’t go through my suitcase, someone did. Pack your stuff. We’re going.”
“Where?”
“I suppose we could ask Sherry.”
“Dennis!”
“Well, her aunt’s staying with that guy, so she’s got a spare room.”
“Dennis, you can’t ask to stay there.”
“No, but you could.”
“Dennis. I couldn’t. It would be weird.”
“Then we’ll have to find a place. You pack up the room, I’ll look around.”
“You’re serious about this?”
“If you didn’t go into my suitcase. You’re sure you didn’t? Take your time. Let’s not be hasty. You didn’t go through my things?”
“Of course not.”
“Then we gotta leave.” Dennis nodded in agreement with himself, and went out the door.
15
RAYMOND HARSTEIN III PARKED IN FRONT OF HIS HOUSE and came around the front of the car to open the door for Cora. He took Cora’s arm, led her up on the wooden porch of the rental house. He put his key in the lock, held the door open.
Cora stepped in, said, “You’ve got mail.”
She picked up the envelope that had been lying just inside the door. “Uh-oh.”
“What is it?” Raymond asked.
Cora hesitated a moment, then passed the envelope over.
It was addressed to: KSTLQZSUUD.
Raymond frowned. He closed the front door, walked into the living room, snapped on the light. He tore the envelope open, pulled out the paper, and whistled.
“What is it?” Cora said.
“Here, take a look.”
“Well,” Cora said. “What do you think we should do? Turn it over to the police?”
“You should probably solve it first,” Raymond said.
“Oh, no,” Cora said. “The police don’t like it when you mess with evidence.”
“Evidence of what? There’s been no crime,” Raymond persisted. “Not yet, anyway. But what if this is a death threat?”
“Then we should certainly take it to them.”
“Don’t you think they’ll be a lot happier to know what it says? And if it turns out to be harmless, there’s no reason to go rushing over there.”
“Let me call Sherry,” Cora said. “She’ll know what to do.”
“She will when this is decoded. But so will we. Come on, aren’t you eager to see what it says?”
“Not if it’s gonna tell me not to marry you.”
Raymond chuckled. “Cora, sweetheart. It’s gonna take more than an anonymous note to scare me off.”
“I’m not sure I have my reading glasses,” Cora protested. “I think I left them at Sherry’s.”
“You’re wearing them.”
“Of course. These are my reading glasses. I get so flustered around men. Raymond, could we take this over to Sherry and solve it over there? It sometimes helps to bang it up on the computer.”
Raymond laughed again. “Cora, sweetheart. Sit down.” He sat on the couch, patted the cushion beside him. “Come on, sit here. Everything’s going to be all right.”
Reluctantly, Cora sank down on the couch.
Raymond took her hands in his. “I know you can’t do crossword puzzles. It’s all right. You don’t have to pretend.”
“Raymond?” Cora’s eyes were wide.
“Not
that you don’t do a marvelous job of making believe. The way you and Sherry solved the first cryptogram was ingenious. I swear Chief Harper never knew.”
“But you did?” Cora murmured.
“Of course,” Raymond said. “I make a point of never marrying anyone unless I know whether she can do crossword puzzles. I don’t care whether she can, I just want to know. It’s quite obvious you can’t. I therefore assume your niece is the power behind the throne, so to speak, and that she writes the Puzzle Lady column. I’m not sure why, but it’s fine with me. The point is, with me you don’t have to pretend anymore. So, let’s take a look at this puzzle, and see what it says.”
“But I can’t . . .”
“I know. But maybe I can. Let’s tackle it together. My impression was these aren’t that hard. Look how it starts off.”
Raymond pointed to the opening of the letter:
“Isn’t KST-whatever the same word that’s on the envelope? Then this is the salutation, and the first word will be dear.”
“Yeah, but the second word sure isn’t Puzzle Lady.”
“Right. So we plug in some letters and see what it is.” Raymond wrote the letters over the salutation.
“That doesn’t help much,” Cora grumbled. “The other cryptogram we had Puzzle Lady. Here we just have dear.”
“Yes, but look at the RUJ apostrophe re. It occurs twice. I bet that’s the word you’re. It was in the first cryptogram. Let’s plug those letters in and see what we’ve got.”
Raymond wrote in Y for R, O for U, and U for J.
“I still don’t see it,” Cora said. “Anything jump out at you?”
“Jump out, indeed.” Raymond grinned. “ Ou_ is either our or out. And since we know S is R, F has to be T.
“We also have DR equals _y. That’s either my or by. But if you look at the last sentence, we have T apostrophe D. There’s no word that has an apostrophe B. But there is a word with apostrophe M. The word I’m. So D is M and T is I. Let’s fill those in.”
Raymond added the letters.
“Dear Bridegroom!” Cora exclaimed. “It’s to you!”
“It sure is,” Raymond said grimly. “And I don’t think I’m going to like the message.”