by Nero Blanc
“Lily, honey … I bet we can find some other songs for you to sing.” Karen cut the crusts off her daughter’s peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
“Jack and Jill …” Lily started for the sixth time, then stopped herself. “Jack Sprat could eat no fat; his wife could eat no lean…. What’s ‘lean,’ Mommy?”
“‘Lean’ means meat that has had the fat cut off.”
“And what’s ‘fat’?”
“Fat is the part of bacon you don’t like.”
Lily frowned as she looked up at her mother’s hands moving across the work island. “I don’t want peanut butter,” she announced.
“But you just told me you did.” Karen’s voice had a resigned but edgy tone. She drew in a frustrated breath and then compensated with what she hoped was a coaxing smile.
“It’s fat. Daddy says so.”
“No, it’s not, honey. Peanut butter is made of peanuts. They’re legumes.” Karen sighed again. She realized she was merely asking for additional questions by providing more information than Lily needed. “You love peanut butter! You know you do. And so does Bear.”
Lily’s small face had now darkened in stubborn petulance; her hand darted out and grabbed one of the sandwiches from the cutting board, then shoved it toward Bear’s face. Naturally, the big brown dog consumed the offering in a single gulp.
“Lily! That’s a very naughty girl. You know your daddy doesn’t like you feeding Bear—”
“I want my daddy,” Lily fought back. “I want my daddy.”
Karen gripped the countertop and lowered her head. “We just have to be patient, sweetheart. Daddy’s coming home soon, but we have to be good until he gets here.”
“I want Rock,” Lily countered indignantly. “I want Cookie.”
“Well, we can’t have Rock and Cookie visit us right now, Lily-bet.”
“I want to go to the park with Rock and Cookie and Gabby and Kitty.”
“We can’t do that either, because we have to eat our lunch. Besides, it’s Sunday, and you know how crowded the park can be on Sundays. Remember the time those two German shepherds knocked you down?” Karen’s voice had taken on a strangled tone.
“I don’t care! I want to go to the park, and I don’t want legumes.”
Despite her anxiety, Karen laughed. “You didn’t even know what they were until this minute.”
“I do so!” She pointed to Bear. “I won’t eat legs or feets or hands.” Then Lily began another rhyming song. “Humpty-Dumpty went up a hill to fetch a pail of water—”
“Lily-bet, let’s stop now and eat—”
“Humpty-Dumpty broke his crown … Humpty-Dumpty broke his crown …”
“Lily! Stop!” Karen’s voice had turned strident. “I mean it!”
“I want my daddy!” Lily wailed, and she threw herself down on the floor in despair.
The telephone rang at that moment, and Karen grabbed it. Distracted by her daughter’s temper tantrum, she totally forgot Rosco’s instructions. “Hello …? Hello …? Yes, I’m listening…. Dan! No, she’s just a little cranky; it turns out that peanut butter—Hello …? Dan …? Dan …? Are you there …? Please, whoever this is, put my husband back on the phone …!” Karen’s eyes remained glued to her daughter’s writhing form as she spoke. “No, I told you I wouldn’t go to the police, and I haven’t! I swear it! … But they’re friends of mine! That’s all! Just friends! They won’t talk to anyone—!” But the line was already dead.
Returning the receiver to the cradle, Karen recognized her error. Her cheekbones quivered as if she were warding off a blow. “Oh, no…. Oh, your mommy’s made such a big mistake, Lily-bet.”
The sound of her mother’s sorrow caused the little girl to cease her protestations, and she pulled herself into a sitting position as Karen looked at the clock and again picked up the phone and purposely dialed Belle and Rosco’s home phone. When the expected answering machine picked up, she stated a breathless, “I know you’re at the park. Don’t try to contact me. Ever. They’re watching the house. They told me that Lily—” Karen didn’t finish the sentence; instead she forcibly returned the receiver to its cradle.
“Lily, what, Mommy?”
“Lily won’t eat her peanut butter and jelly sandwich.”
CHAPTER 14
At seven forty-five Monday morning, Belle and Rosco were sitting in abject silence in the midst of Lawson’s convivial weekday bustle. Karen’s message, which they’d retrieved from their answering machine late the previous afternoon, and her refusal to speak with them when they’d return the call, had been so disconcerting that even fourteen hours later the couple felt the need for more companionship than was offered by their two-human, two-canine household. Comfort food, the familiar clank of knives and forks scraping plates, and the joking banter between Martha and Kenny, the fry cook—or between Martha and anyone else—was what they wanted before heading into the day’s work.
“What’s up with you two sad sacks today?” Martha teased as she sloshed hot coffee into their cups. “You didn’t get more bad news on the Dangerous Dan front, did you?”
Belle’s eyes widened in surprise. “Why do you ask that?”
“Hey, like I wasn’t here on Saturday when you all were palavering about Tacete taking a hike?” she demanded facetiously.
“Oh, yes …” Belle forced a smile while her peripheral vision took in the jaunty flamingo-and-bubblegum hues of the coffee shop’s decor and the color-coordinated uniforms worn by Martha, Lorraine, and the other waitress. “In the pink” seemed a term invented for Lawson’s, although, at the moment, Belle felt the global aspects of the expression had failed her.
“So, any updates in the wayward-husband scenario?” Martha asked.
“No,” Belle and Rosco responded in unison and too quickly.
“You two are a piece of work this morning, that’s for sure. Maybe I should ask King Kenny to fry you a couple of steaks instead of the French toast and flapjacks you always order. You look like you could use a little iron.”
“Well, we are kind of tired,” Belle admitted.
“Haven’t you lovebirds learned what weekends are for?” Martha chortled loudly, then shook her buxom body in delight. “Never mind. I take that back. Maybe you should try to spend more time outside on your days off. Possibly you need less time in bed instead of more?” With that, she flounced away, bellowing greetings and wisecracks to other regular patrons who returned the comments with equal verve and gusto. Any stranger entering Lawson’s time-warp linoleum-and-chrome world would have decided that Newcastle was a joyous city indeed.
“So, what do we do next?” Belle asked after another leaden moment had passed between the couple.
“There’s nothing we can do, Belle. Karen all but told us to take a hike and now is refusing to speak to us.”
“But that seems so wrong, Rosco…. So … I don’t know … so irresponsible on our part. If Dan were hurt, or Lily—” Belle left the thought unfinished.
“We’ll have to hope Karen comes to her senses and contacts the police. Which she may still do. This is an extremely volatile time for her, and she may be taking out her anger on us simply because she can’t place it where it should be.”
“But what about Lily?” Belle asked. “And whatever Karen failed to explain in her message last night …”
Rosco remained in silent deliberation while his wife continued, “Because if this person has started threatening a child—”
“Unless we can talk to Karen, Belle, we have no idea what she was told.”
Belle took a deep breath. “I feel awful, Rosco—”
At that moment, two plates piled high with sugar and caloric-hell were slid in front of them by Martha. “Watch out, the maple syrup pitcher’s real hot…. You want extra whipped cream on those flapjacks, Cute-buns?”
This time Rosco didn’t even wince at the waitress’ favorite nickname for him. “Sure, why not?” The tone wasn’t one of his more chipper efforts, but Martha failed to noti
ce Rosco’s distracted state.
“I don’t know how he does it, Belle. I swear. If Big Al were to even look at one of the platters your hubby regularly puts away, he wouldn’t be able to squeeze into this seat.”
“Are you talking about me, Marth? Behind my back, no less?”
Martha, Rosco, and Belle swung around. Standing alongside the next banquette was Al Lever, himself.
“Well, if it isn’t the big man, himself,” Martha cackled. “And larger than life, to boot! I thought you had a court date in Beantown this morning.”
“What? You’ve taken to hacking into the NPD computers in your spare time? You have our phones tapped? And I’ll take some java while you’re at it—if it’s not too much trouble for her highness to find the carafe.”
“The bunch of you have communal memory loss this morning or what? You and Abe were grousing about the Boston situation on Saturday, Big Al—in between yakking about a certain missing male.” Martha walked away and returned with the coffee and a cup and saucer, as well as a paper placemat, napkin, and silverware. “I take it you’re going to horn in on your buddy’s tête-à-tête with his adorable wife.”
“They had all weekend for canoodling,” was Al’s blithe reply as he slid into the banquette opposite Rosco and Belle.
“And from the looks of them, they used up every lovin’ minute,” the waitress joked.
Al glanced at his former partner, and then at Belle. “What gives? Martha’s right; you two are awfully quiet this morning. You didn’t have a fight, did you?” Lever looked genuinely worried as he asked this question.
But Rosco and Belle were saved from an immediate answer because Martha pulled out her order pad and retrieved the pencil she kept stuck into the shellacked waves of her blonde beehive. “So, what’ll it be, Big Al? By the way, is this breakfast number two or number three …?”
“Yuk, yuk … And it’s my first, for your information.”
Martha arched an eyebrow, an action she’d perfected during her many years as Lawson’s queen bee. “Helen’s finally put you on that diet, has she?”
“If you knew my wife’s cooking, you wouldn’t bother to ask.”
“Save it, Big Al. I know the routine already. The only danger Helen ever encounters in your kitchen is the risk of freezer burn, right?”
“Well, it’s true. A cook she definitely ain’t.” Al didn’t bother to reach for the menu as he spoke. None of Lawson’s regulars did; just as Martha didn’t really need to write down their orders. “A couple of eggs over easy—”
“And a double order of hash browns … and extra bacon, extra crispy, and a large O.J.” Martha finished the words for him.
“Only if you twist my arm, Marth.”
“Since when have you needed persuasion when it came to chow, Al?”
“Ho, ho.” Al stirred cream into his coffee, then turned toward Belle. “How’s your friend, Karen, doing?”
“Karen?” she said too quickly, wondering if Al could now read her mind.
“Oh, boy …”
“Oh, that Karen!” Belle pasted on a smile. “She’s okay, I guess.”
“No word from the Doc, I take it?”
“Not that I know of.”
Lever frowned. “You mean she wouldn’t call you if he suddenly reappeared? Or Missing Persons? I hope the heck she’d notify NPD so we could call off our search for the Explorer.”
“Sure … of course, she would. Certainly. Yes.” Belle’s words tumbled over each other, and Al Lever’s scowl deepened.
“You lovebirds did have a fight, didn’t you?”
“No, Al. Honest!” Belle smiled brightened in order to prove her point, but the effort failed to convince Al that she was telling the truth.
“Something’s wrong, and I know it.” He looked at Rosco. “Aren’t you going to ask me if we’ve had any luck at all in chasing down Tacete’s Explorer?”
“I thought I’d let you eat your breakfast in peace before hammering you with questions, Al.”
“Since when do you allow me any kind of peace, Poly—crates?”
Rosco laughed. The sound was relaxed and jocular enough to fool Lever. “So, what’s the word on the Explorer?”
“Obviously nada. Zilch. Zip. I guess the guy’s serious about hiding himself from the little missus. Or maybe he’s just evaporated?”
Martha appeared with Al’s orange juice and toast. “Leave him alone and he’ll come home, dragging his tail behind him,” she misquoted. “Or not.” She laughed and moved away again, and Al concentrated on covering his toast with strawberry jam. After a moment, he sat back. “I guess we’ll be sending one of our officers out to the Tacete household today—”
“That’s not a good idea, Al,” Rosco interrupted.
Lever gazed at his former partner. A look of annoyance crossed his face. “Maybe you’d like to tell the boys and girls over at Missing Persons why it isn’t.”
“Karen’s at sixes and sevens,” Belle interjected too hastily. “I think an official visit would push her over the edge…. Right now, anyway.”
“Why don’t I act as a liaison, Al,” Rosco offered. “Just until Karen’s over this initial emotional hump. It’s the least I could do.”
Lever finished his toast, pushed the plate away, and looked for Martha. “Where the heck’s my eggs?” He turned back to Rosco. “If I didn’t know you two as well as I do, I’d say something fishy was going on.”
“Well, fortunately, you do know us.” Rosco grinned as he spoke.
“Yeah, that’s what worries me even more.” Al stood. “I gotta get back to the rat race…. ” He slid a tip for Martha beneath his saucer. “I’m gonna have to ask her to put my breakfast in some Styro so I can take it back to the station. When do you want me to finish up hunting for that new car, Poly—crates?”
“Actually, Al, I’m a little swamped at the moment.”
Lever gave Rosco a quizzical look. “On the other hand, maybe you could borrow one of Dan Tacete’s rides for the time being. I can definitely see you cruising around in a Bentley.”
Rosco’s smile remained stuck to his face as Lever made his way toward the cashier, grabbed his eggs from Martha, and then ambled out the door.
But Belle’s own bright expression wobbled, and her lips twitched in worry. “I hate this, Rosco,” she murmured. “I feel like we’re the criminals. Or that we’re abetting the crime.”
“We’ll give the situation another twenty-four hours—max. And then that’s it. Karen’s wishes or not, the Feds need to be brought in on this.”
“A lot can happen in twenty-four hours.”
“AS TIME GOES BY”
Across
1. Resistonce units
5. Tennis org.
8. Cheat
12. A time to——, Ecclesiastes
13. A time to——, Ecclesiastes
14. A time of——, Ecclesiastes
15. Mr. Mason
16. Rascal
17. Like Miss Muffet’s curds
18. Baseball stat.
19. Garden tool
20. Ms. la Douce
21. Jack Be Nimble prop
25. Hitchcockian vane reading
28. “Exodus” author
29. Lyric poems
30. Buck’s partner
31. October birthstone
32. “… and put them to——”
33. See 9-Down
34. City in Texas
35. Suit piece
36. Cookie ingredient
37. Suffix for red, white, or blue
38. Runner Sebastian
39. Mr. Huntley
40. Fib
41. Ms. Lanchester
42. Blunder
43. Lincoln model
44. Suggestion for 21-Across hurdler
48. MGM founder
50. Iota
51. Half MCII
52. It’s often busted
54. Finished first
55. Takes—
57. Side
> 58. Shock
59. Mr. Gardner and namesakes
60. Questions
61. Docs’ aides
62. Seven days
Down
1. “Hänsel und Gretel,” e.g.
2. Where did that mouse go?
3. Scratch
4. “The——is falling!”
5. “Hasta luego!”
6. A time to heal; a——, Ecclesiastes
7. Energy
8. Meeting spot?
9. With 33-Across, rhyme line
10. High card
11. All the king’s——
12. Dimension; abbr.
14. Makes coffee
19. “For——a jolly good fellow!”
20. Chilled
22. Cart
23. ——Abner
24. Thought
26. Pitcher’s goal
27. A time to——Ecclesiastes
31. Watering hole
34. A time to——Ecclesiastes
35. Pear selection
36. Chinese dynasty
38. Paw part
39. ——au vin
41. Throw out
42. A time to——, Ecclesiastes
45. “I’ll grind his——to make…”
46. Wall hook
47. Smooch
49. Mind——P’s & Q’s
52. Arts deg.
53. Indian dance
54. A time of——, Ecclesiastes
55. A time of——, Ecclesiastes
56. Anger
To download a PDF of this puzzle, please visit openroadmedia.com/nero-blanc-crosswords
CHAPTER 15
As Belle stood waiting for the elevator that would carry her from the Evening Crier’s busy lobby up to her cubicle-size office, she had no idea what lay in store for her. Although she did experience a keen sense of premonition, almost of doom. The fact that her brain kept repeating its complaint that she and Rosco were withholding information didn’t alleviate the feelings of hopelessness and fear. Nor did her surroundings help; in the seven years Belle had called the Crier her professional home, she’d never warmed to its postmodern architecture or the ambience that seemed to have all the luster and fizz of a high school cafeteria after the home team had lost a deciding game. The word “bleak” had found a special niche in the newspaper’s physical plant.