by Parnell Hall
The house was a huge embarrassment to Bakerhaven, owing to the manner in which it had been built. The zoning commission had accepted a donation for the completion of Bakerhaven’s new rec center. The temporary relaxation of the zoning laws that allowed the rec center to be built had, in what was seen by no one as a mere coincidence, allowed for the construction of the mansion.
The house had sat vacant ever since, the only visitors the occasional vandal who hopped the low stone fence to check it out. These trespassers were usually teenagers indulging their curiosity. Most of them were caught, not that the estate had an alarm system. Despite the proliferation of CSI-type TV shows, none of the intruders had given any thought to the fact that they might be leaving fingerprints. In a depressingly typical learning curve, such failures had not made the teenagers more cautious in their intrusions, it had made them give up trying.
At four o’clock Cora turned in at the gate, and made her way up the long winding drive that cut through the majestic, sloping front lawn. In front of the building the driveway widened out into an impromptu parking lot. Nothing as formal as a circle or a square, it merely suggested a place to leave one’s car. At the moment there were two. Cora joined them and made three.
The front door opened, and Jackie Greystone popped out. She wore sunglasses and a bikini that showed her figure off to good advantage. Mrs. Greystone was to all intents and purposes a dish.
“Cora, how good to see you. Listen, Matt’s tied up on the phone. He sent me out to get you squared away. Come out back with me, will you? Four o’clock is the perfect time of day. The sun’s not right overhead, but the water’s warm. Did you bring your bathing suit?”
“I did,” Cora said, tapping her drawstring purse.
“Excellent. Follow me. I’ll get you set up.”
Jackie led Cora around the side of the house on an unobtrusive path of scattered flagstones of various sizes and shapes.
“It’s good you’re getting the lay of the land. Matt’s throwing a party this weekend for some of his friends. Of course you’ll be invited.”
The back of the Greystone mansion was all beach house, including an in-ground swimming pool, a hot tub, deck chairs, cabanas, outdoor showers, a sauna, and a thatched-roof hut that served as a bar.
“Here you are,” Jackie said. “Make yourself at home. You can change in one of the cabanas. I’ll get you a drink. Would you like a lemonade? An iced tea?”
“I’d like a frozen margarita,” Cora said, “but that life is behind me. Lemonade would be fine.”
“A frozen margarita does sound better,” Jackie said. “Would you like a virgin frozen margarita? I think I’ll make myself one. Care to join me?”
“That would be wonderful,” Cora said.
“Great. Why don’t you change and join me in the hot tub?”
Cora went in the cabana and put on her bathing suit. It bulged only slightly in the wrong places. She was glad she’d taken off ten pounds. She’d put on weight when she quit smoking. She couldn’t help it. She was hungry all day long. The only thing she wanted more than food was a cigarette. To start smoking again seemed counterproductive, particularly coupled with the depression and self-loathing that would have accompanied such a backslide.
What she could have used was a heavy-duty appetite suppressant, but since Dr. Barney Nathan, with whom she’d had a brief affair, had gone back to his wife, he was not about to write her a prescription. She’d have had better luck knocking off a meth lab, though it occurred to her that might not be good for her image.
Cora hung her clothes on the hooks on the wall, grabbed her purse, and headed for the hot tub. She dipped her toe in the water and found it pleasingly warm. She climbed in and sat on a shelf that submerged her up to her head and shoulders.
Jackie emerged from the thatched-roof bar with a pair of glasses and a pitcher of frozen margaritas. “Good, you’re already in. Grab a glass and I’ll pour you one.”
Jackie poured Cora a margarita, then one for herself. She set the pitcher down and climbed into the hot tub.
Cora took a sip, proclaimed it delicious.
“Thanks,” Jackie said. “Now, before Matt interrupts us, did you solve the puzzle?”
“It’s in my purse,” Cora said. “I’m not sure I can get it out without getting it all wet.”
“What does it say?”
“It says to look in his file.”
Jackie frowned. “What?”
“Hold on, it’s a poem. I’m not senile yet, I ought to be able to remember it. Let me see. ‘You’ll find a surprise in the file of this guy.’”
“What does that mean?”
“I was hoping you could tell me.”
“Well, I can’t. A surprise in the file? What file?”
“The file of this guy,” Cora said. “Which is all wrong, by the way. ‘Guy’ doesn’t rhyme with ‘surprise.’ It would have to be ‘guys.’ ‘You’ll find a surprise in the files of these guys.’ Except then there’s too many letters to fit in the grid.”
Jackie clearly wasn’t interested in the mechanics of puzzle construction. “You said ‘file of this guy.’ Are they talking about Matt’s file?”
“I have no idea.”
“Well, it was sent to Matt.”
“Yes, in which case it’s telling him he’d find a surprise in the file of some other guy.”
“Why some other guy?”
“Because he’s not going to find a surprise in his own file. And he’s not ‘this guy.’ He’s ‘you.’ If it was his file, it would be, ‘You’ll find a surprise in your file.’ Except there’s no meter, it’s the wrong number of letters, and it doesn’t rhyme.”
Jackie glanced toward the house. “Please. Before Matt gets out here. Can’t you tell me what it means?”
“No, I can’t. And the reason is I don’t know.”
“Well, what about the title? Untitled. Did you figure out what that is?”
Cora shook her head. “Not a clue.”
Jackie took a breath. “All right, this file they’re referring to. Could it have anything to do with the break-in the other day?”
“What break-in?”
“You know. At the house of that woman people think is a witch.”
“How do you know about that?”
“It’s the talk of the town. Aside from Matt. Believe me, any time I can steer the conversation away from him I do. Anyway, the memory card was stolen from her computer, and a computer has files, so why couldn’t it be referring to that?”
“It could, but she’s not a guy.”
“Maybe one of her computer files could be about a guy. As you pointed out, it didn’t say ‘files,’ it said ‘file.’ ‘Of this guy.’ So she has a bunch of files and one of them is of this guy.”
“I think you’re doing a better job of figuring this out than I am,” Cora said.
“I’m sure you’ve figured all this out already. I’m just trying to give you a prompt.”
“Believe me,” Cora said, “I haven’t figured anything out. I’m not sure there’s anything to figure.” Cora took a sip of her frozen margarita. Her hand flew to her forehead. “Oh, my God! Brain freeze!”
Jackie laughed. “Yes, that is the danger of drinking these in the hot tub. Or anywhere else for that matter. Look, don’t bring this up with Matt. He’s got enough on his plate.”
The pitcher himself came out the door in a bathing suit and a T-shirt. He wore a Yankees cap. His right arm was in a sling. “Sorry about that,” he said. “I had a phone call. I try not to pick up, but there’s some calls you have to answer.”
He sat down on the edge of the hot tub and swung his legs into the water. “Ah, that feels good.”
“Aren’t you coming in?” Cora said.
“Afraid not,” Matt said. “Doctor’s orders. I do not get in the hot tub with anyone else, no matter how friendly. And that includes my wife. The fear is I would jostle my arm. I doubt if I would, but that’s the fear. Lenny read me the riot act. The doc
tors were strict, but they’ve got nothing on Lenny.”
“Not so hard to understand,” Cora said. “You’re clearly his most famous client.”
“I’m practically his only client,” Matt said. “Lenny’s an old friend. Saw me pitch in high school. Told me I’d be good. Offered to represent me. I was flattered. A kid like me being recognized. So when I was drafted I honored his offer. It’s not like having Scott Boras as my agent. But when it was time to make a deal with the Yankees he did all right by me.”
“Well, you certainly made it easy for him, putting up the numbers.”
“Anyway, I get in the hot tub alone.”
“You want us to get out so you can get in?” Cora said.
“Don’t be silly. I use it several times a day. Enjoy yourself.”
“Well, thanks for inviting me over. Lenny said there was something you wanted to ask me about.”
“Oh. I’m having a party this weekend for some of my teammates. And some of my new Bakerhaven friends. You of course are invited, along with the chief of police, the first selectman, and some of the other Bakerhaven dignitaries.”
“Did you say Yankees will be there?”
“They won’t all show up, but they’re invited. A few will come. Along with a few recently retired, such as Derek Jeter and Mariano Rivera.”
Cora felt like she’d had another brain freeze. “Derek Jeter and Mariano Rivera are going to be here?”
“Well, I certainly hope so. Derek said yes. Mariano wasn’t sure. And I’m not sure A-Rod wants to venture into Red Sox territory.”
“I can understand that,” Cora said, “but I’m a New Yorker born and bred. Derek Jeter, wow.”
“So, I was hoping you could help me out.”
“Of course. Anything. Just name it.”
“Well, I’m new in town. I don’t know everyone. And we can’t have an open house. We’d be overrun.”
“I can understand that.”
“So I was hoping you could help me with the guest list.”
Chapter
18
“Kill me now,” Cora said.
“It’s a temptation,” Sherry said.
“This is all I need. To be put in the position of choosing who’s important and who’s not. That’s why we never have parties. So I won’t insult who I don’t invite.”
“That’s the problem with being a celebrity,” Sherry said.
“It is. Though there’s some people I’d like to insult. But there’s others. Perfectly nice people. Friends of mine. But I can’t force them on Matt Greystone, and they’ve got no reason to make the cut. And what a horrible position to be put in. It’s like being an American Idol judge with no salary and none of the perks.”
“You get to meet Derek Jeter.”
“There is that,” Cora said. “But, damn it, I’d like to meet him on my own merits, not because I was useful in making out a guest list.”
“I understand your frustration. You gonna invite me?”
Cora’s mouth fell open. “Sherry.”
“You’re not, are you?” Sherry said. “You’re going to invite Aaron because he’s a newspaper reporter, and Becky because she’s a lawyer, and you’re going to put them together in the hot tub and leave me at home.”
“Sherry, you know I’d never—” Cora broke off at the look in Sherry’s eye. “You’re kidding me, aren’t you?”
“What gave me away?”
“Nothing. You really sold it. I just realized that wasn’t you.”
“Good,” Sherry said. “So how’d they like the crossword puzzle?”
“Well, Matt didn’t see it.”
“Why? It was sent to him.”
“Yes, but it’s his wife who wanted it solved. And then she didn’t want me to bother him with the result.”
“Was that after you told her what the puzzle said or before?”
Cora frowned. “As a matter of fact, it was after. What are you getting at?”
“Nothing. I was just teasing you again. I’d forgotten how much fun it was.”
Aaron’s car rolled up the driveway. He got out, went around, and lifted Jennifer out of her car seat.
“Mommy doesn’t make me ride in a car seat,” Jennifer protested.
“That’s because Mommy doesn’t blame Mommy for not doing it.”
“Oh,” Jennifer said. She hopped out, ran over, and greeted Mommy and Cora in turn, then raced to the screen door to let Buddy out. The toy poodle came pelting out and raced Jennifer across the lawn to the monkey bars.
“You’re just in time,” Sherry said. “Cora wants to invite you to a party.”
“What party?”
“It’s a pool party. You get to meet Derek Jeter and hang out in the hot tub with Becky Baldwin.”
“What’s she talking about?” Aaron asked Cora.
“There’s a party this weekend. Matt Greystone roped me into helping him with the guest list. Sherry’s come up with a scenario where I leave her off it and you hook up with Becky Baldwin.”
“Sherry,” Aaron said.
“Relax,” Sherry said. “I was kidding her, not you.”
“How is that kidding her?”
“Cora’s freaking out about the guest list. She’s afraid to make any executive decisions. It’s a good thing she’s not first selectman.”
“Oh, my God,” Cora said. “Do I have to invite the first selectman?”
“See what I mean?”
“I certainly do. Cora, stop worrying so much. Who’s even going to know you made up the guest list?”
Cora’s eyes widened. “Everyone will. That’s the whole point. The Greystones can put anyone on the list they want. I’m not here to choose the guests they invite. I’m here to take the blame for those they don’t.”
Aaron grinned. “Oh, come on, Cora. It’s just a guest list. Who could possibly care?”
Chapter
19
“You didn’t invite my wife.”
Cora nearly spilled her latte. She was barely in the front door of the police station when Chief Harper lit into her.
“Hi, Chief. And good morning to you, too.”
“Good morning, hell. I get down to the breakfast table and there is my wife holding the morning mail, and guess what it is? An invitation to Matt Greystone’s party. For me. And only me. And it’s not just that it didn’t invite the wife. It specifically says it’s for only me.”
“Oh, come on, Chief. Matt Greystone sent you an invitation and said don’t bring the wife?”
“No. That I could deal with. But it’s not a personal note. It’s a printed invitation card. Mr. and Mrs. Greystone are pleased to invite, and then there’s a blank where they fill in your name. At the bottom it says space is limited, no guests, please.”
“Well, there you are, Chief. They didn’t tell you not to bring your wife. They told everyone not to bring guests. It’s not a personal snub. They just have limited room.”
“It’s an outdoor party. The guy’s got acres. How much space is my wife going to take up?”
Chief Harper’s wife had been filling out lately, as had he, but Cora managed to keep a straight face. “I don’t know how many people he’s invited, Chief, but if they all brought a significant other it would double the size of the party. Surely your wife could understand that.”
“She might have, if she hadn’t stopped into Cushman’s Bake Shop because she has a weakness for their cranberry scones, and who’s there but Judy Douglas Knauer, waving her invitation and crowing about how she’s been invited to Matt Greystone’s house.”
“She’s his real estate agent.”
“Yes, and would you like to know the relative importance of real estate agents and police chief’s wives? I could tell you, because I happen to be up on the subject for some strange reason.”
“I didn’t invite her.”
“Did you or did you not make up the guest list?”
“Who said that?”
“Rick Reed. In his Rick’s Rips s
egment.”
“His what?”
“You haven’t seen it?” Dan said. “It’s a one-minute celebrity gossip segment someone at Channel 8 dreamed up.”
“Sounds dreadful.”
“It is,” Harper said. “Anyway he comes on this morning with guess who made up the guest list for Matt Greystone’s pool party and he named you. I thought it was funny until you slighted my wife.”
“And Rick Reed is blaming me?”
“That’s right. Is he wrong, as usual?”
“Oh.”
“That’s not the answer I was hoping for,” Harper said.
“Matt Greystone told me he was new in town, and asked what Bakerhaven movers and shakers should he be sure to invite.”
“I’m a mover and shaker? It’s not funny, Cora. A lot of people are very upset and I’m one of them.”
“How did Rick Reed come up with that?”
“I don’t know. Did you leave him off the list?”
“He’s not from Bakerhaven. Do you think I’d wish him on Matt Greystone?”
“Come on, Chief,” Dan Finley said. “Give Cora a break. She didn’t invite me either, and it’s not like we’re not old friends. I’ve known Cora ever since she came to Bakerhaven. I’m a big Puzzle Lady fan, and I was before I even met her. But she left me off the list, and it’s not because I arrested her a few times or you wouldn’t be going, either. So you’ve got to give her a break, because I know she’s having a hard time.”
“Thanks for your support,” Cora said dryly. “What I want to know is how this all got tipped to Rick Reed.”
“I have no idea,” Harper said.
“You’re usually his source, Dan. Are you saying you weren’t this time? Despite the fact you felt snubbed for being left off the list?”
“Hey, did I say that?” Dan said.
“I’m asking you.”
“No, did I say I felt snubbed? I don’t feel snubbed. Apparently, I’m in good company. I mean, it’s not like everybody and his brother got an invitation.”
Harvey Beerbaum came in the front door of the police station. The chubby cruciverbalist was grinning from ear to ear.