A Puzzle to Be Named Later--A Puzzle Lady Mystery

by Parnell Hall

  “If you’re wrong, don’t feel bad. It isn’t easy. I must say this crime gave me a lot of trouble.

  “One thing that really gave me trouble was the crossword puzzle left at the crime scene. Killers often do this to taunt me. I don’t know why. It’s a stupid idea. Inevitably it helps me catch them. And yet they will not be dissuaded. They think they’re too smart for me. They may well be, but there’s other ways to show it.

  “One way would be, not leaving a crossword puzzle. That’s what the killer did in this case, and that’s what gave me trouble. Because I’d fallen into the same old rut. I’d assumed if there’s a crossword, it was left by the killer. The crossword puzzle left in the sauna was actually left by the victim.

  “So, had Leon Bratz just left the crossword puzzle when he was surprised and killed? Not at all. Leon Bratz was surprised and killed, and with his dying breath, Leon Bratz reached into his jacket pocket, grabbed the crossword puzzle, and thrust it up, hoping it would point to his killer.

  “Unfortunately, it fell from his hand into the stove, making it look as if it had been left instead by the killer.

  “Are you following all that? It’s all right, it doesn’t matter. Because I am now going to do what Leon Bratz was unable to do. I am going to point to the killer. And that killer is…”

  The lights went out.

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  There were cries, whispering, nervous laughter, all the sorts of things you could associate with a blackout. It went on for fifteen or twenty seconds, though it seemed much longer in the darkness.

  And then, as abruptly as they had gone out, all the lights came on again.

  Cora looked around the room. Raised her hands for silence. It took awhile for people to quiet down. When they had, she shrugged. “Well, it didn’t work. The killer was supposed to get up in the dark and try to escape. That didn’t happen. Which is really bad. It makes me oh for two. It looked extremely rocky for the Mudville nine that day.

  “So what you gonna do? You gonna stay with ‘Casey at the Bat’? I don’t think so. We all know how that worked out. If I’m mighty Casey, I’m gonna swing and miss. So I’m gonna bring in a pinch hitter. Chief Harper. A man who has quietly piled up the best batting average in the league. And his on-base average is fantastic, when you consider the times he’s been intentionally walked. Going with the metaphor, that’s the defendant copping a plea. Anyway—” Cora leaned close to the microphone, and simulated a loud speaker echo. “Now batting for Cora Felton, number forty-four, Chief Dale Harper, Harper, Harper, Harper.”

  Chief Harper stepped up to the microphone. Unlike the Puzzle Lady, he didn’t indulge himself in any dramatics, just pulled a paper from his jacket pocket, unfolded it, and announced, “Lenny Schick, I have a warrant here for your arrest in the murder of Leon Bratz.”

  And the place went wild.

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  “Well, that went well,” Cora said.

  Chief Harper stared at her. “Well? I just arrested a man on no grounds whatsoever.”

  “You had a warrant.”

  “Yes, and do you know where I got that warrant?”

  “I handed it to you.”

  “Yes, you did. When closely examined that warrant turned out to be a takeout menu from the Thai place.”

  “They have good curry puffs.”

  “I’ll be sure to order them when I get my one phone call from the lockup.”

  “Who’s going to arrest you, Dan Finley? You worry too much, Chief.”

  Henry Firth burst in the door. “What the hell happened?”

  “Hi, Henry. Where were you? You missed all the fun.”

  “I was at the ball game. I thought with the suspect in custody and not talking, it would be a fairly safe night to get away and see a game. The Yankees won, by the way, in an extra-inning thriller. So I was having a real good time until I hear on the radio driving back that Chief Harper served an arrest warrant on Matt Greystone’s agent. Which is quite a surprise to me, because as county prosecutor I like to have a little input on arrest warrants. Particularly when they’re arresting someone for a crime for which I already have a suspect in jail.”

  “That must be embarrassing,” Cora said.

  “I almost drove off the road! The only thing that kept me from calling you on the phone was it’s against the law in Connecticut, and with my luck I’d get arrested, too! How would that look in the paper? Me getting arrested at the same time as the suspect?”

  “I assure you everything’s all right,” Cora said.

  “Oh, you assure me? How can everything be all right? I’ve got two suspects under arrest for the same crime.”

  “Technically, you’ve got one under arrest for the murder of Amanda Hoyt, and the other under arrest for the murder of Leon Bratz.”

  “That’s even worse. Two killers? Acting in concert? Not acting in concert? What’s your theory here?”

  “I think you’ll be able to let Don go,” Cora said.

  “Oh, you do, do you?”

  “I would think so. Surely someone planted the gun in his car. Even the stupidest killer wouldn’t be so dumb as to hang on to the gun.”

  “He was drunk.”

  “You say that now. You’ll sing another tune when you try to prove premeditation.”

  Henry Firth put up his hands. “Stop it. I’m not in the mood. Chief, what in the world possessed you to arrest Lenny Schick?”

  “I told him to,” Cora said. “I gave him a piece of paper. I said it was a warrant. It might not have been.”

  “You didn’t look at the paper?”

  “You’re missing the big picture, Henry. You’ve got Lenny Schick in jail. He thinks we have him dead to rights. Actually, we haven’t got a thing, but he doesn’t know that.”

  “When he finds out, he’s going to sue us for false arrest. And that charge will stick. You have any idea how much money that’s going to run us?”

  “He’s not going to sue us for false arrest.”

  “Oh, no? What evidence did we arrest him on, tell me that? What evidence did you have?”

  “Oh,” Chief Harper said.

  “You didn’t, did you? Not one thing. You arrested him on her say-so. She told you it would be all right, and things have gotten to the point where you believe her. Just because it’s worked in the past doesn’t mean it’s going to work out now. We have a bad situation here, a very bad situation. Lenny Schick wants a lawyer. Is Becky going to represent him?”

  “There’s a conflict of interest. He’s waiting for a lawyer to drive up from New York.”

  “When that lawyer gets here, we’re toast. He’s going to start screaming probable cause, and we don’t have any. Or do we have some sort of probable cause you just neglected to tell anyone about?”

  Harper sighed, shook his head.

  “Great,” Henry Firth said. “So what do we do now?”

  “It seems to me there’s only one thing that lets everybody off the hook,” Cora said.

  “What’s that?”

  “He’s gotta confess.”

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  Dan Finley let Cora Felton into the conference room.

  Lenny glared at her. “I’m not saying anything without a lawyer, and I’m certainly not talking to you.”

  “I understand why you’d feel that way. It’s going to be awhile before you get a lawyer. Becky Baldwin can’t represent you without Matt and Jackie’s permission, and that may be hard to arrange. So you’re going to have to get someone up from New York, and that’ll take time.

  “But here’s the situation. You’re going to get a very advantageous plea bargain. I can’t say specifically, I’m not an attorney, but trust me you will. The prosecutor has no wish to do Matt Greystone any more dirt than he has to. You’re going to cop to a plea of killing Leon Bratz, a sleazebag who was hounding your star pitcher Matt Greystone, and would not stop hounding him even after an injury had driven him out of the game. No on
e will blame you for that. Legally, you’ll be guilty, but most people will see you doing the world a public service.

  “Unfortunately, there’s Amanda Hoyt. That’s the hard part. Of course you had no choice. You had to kill her because she saw you do it.”

  Lenny stared at her.

  “Yeah, I know. That’s not true, but the truth isn’t what’s important here. So, say she saw you, and that’s why she had to go. Doesn’t make you the best person in the world. But consider this. A killer can’t profit from their crime. They can’t collect insurance. They can’t inherit.

  “But an agent? Whole different ball game, if you’ll pardon the allusion. Matt’s your client. You have a big commission coming. You still will if he continues to pitch. Which he will, if he’s let alone to rehab. Will he ever be as good as he was? Who knows? But he’ll get a shot.

  “You and I have a mutual goal. We want Matt Greystone to continue pitching for the New York Yankees. That can only happen if Matt is allowed rehab and returns to his fighting form.

  “I don’t know anything about broken bones. But I know something about broken hearts. And I know Matt can’t pitch with one, and wouldn’t want to.

  “The important thing here is that the truth doesn’t come out. We gotta sell our version of the truth. Or rather, you do, because no one’s going to believe anything I say. It will take a confession just to get people’s attention.

  “So, Amanda Hoyt saw you kill Leon Bratz, and that’s why she had to go. Short, simple, effective, people will buy it. Then we don’t have to get into any messy side issues like crossword puzzles that have you driving off the road.

  “As far as that puzzle is concerned, Leon Bratz put it in the stove. You don’t have to say you saw him do it. You don’t have to mention it. All you have to do is not contradict it. Leon Bratz must have done it but you don’t know when, and you have no idea what it means. You’ll get away with that because Matt Greystone’s brakes were checked and came out clean. Just another stab in the dark by Leon Bratz that came to nothing.”

  Lenny Schick blinked at her. “I don’t understand.”

  “You don’t have to. I do, and I’ll help you through it. All you have to do is go along.”

  Cora took a breath, sized Lenny up. “We’re at a crossroads here. You have the choice of killing the goose that laid the golden eggs, or taking one for the team.

  “You’ll do some jail time, I’m not going to say you won’t, but you’ll get a shot, too.

  “So, here’s what you have to do, and here’s what you have to say.”

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  “In a stunning development, in what the media has dubbed the Matt Greystone murders, Lenny Schick, Matt’s agent, earlier today, quietly confessed to the crimes.

  “Lenny’s motive for the murders was the same one that led him to confess. A desire to spare his star pitcher publicity. Leon Bratz, a second-rate gossip columnist, who had made a career of smearing star pitcher Matt Greystone with leering innuendos, was unwilling to let even heartbreaking tragedy derail his blistering attack. Even as Matt Greystone, struck down in his prime, retreated from the spotlight, Leon Bratz followed him to Bakerhaven and prepared to crash the party. He had already begun a smear campaign in his columns intimating that Matt Greystone’s calamitous car crash might not have been entirely accidental.

  “Confronting Matt in his new home during his inaugural party, Leon came armed with a puzzle of his own construction, hinting at the illegitimacy of the car crash. He hoped to plant it where it would be discovered and delivered to the Puzzle Lady, who was a guest at the party.

  “He never got the chance. Lenny Schick, unaware of the puzzle, but aware that Leon was up to no good, lured him to the sauna, ostensibly to discuss a payoff to cease his smear campaign. Once inside, confronted with the mocking face of Leon Bratz, in which there was no remorse, Lenny Schick could not resist the urge to seize the stone from the top of the stove, and bring the vermin’s vile life to an end.

  “Lenny deeply regrets the murder of Amanda Hoyt, but she had seen him enter the sauna and knew that he was guilty of the crime.

  “Confession appears to have been a huge weight off his shoulders. The man is clearly wracked with remorse.

  “I have here Matt Greystone, who wishes to make a brief statement, and then, per agreement, will take no further questions.

  “Mr. Greystone, the sympathies of Channel 8 go out to you.”

  Matt stood quietly, waiting for Rick Reed to subside.

  “I am deeply saddened by what has happened. Lenny Schick has been a dear friend since the beginning of my career. I am deeply sorry for what he has done. I know he felt he was acting in my best interests. I wish he had not, but I will not abandon him now. Though I personally will take no part in his defense, I have hired an attorney to act in his behalf, and any resources I have will be available to aid him in his time of need.”

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  Cora sat down across the dining room table from Matt Greystone. From the young pitcher’s expression, he might have been the one who just confessed to two murders, instead of his agent.

  “Let’s talk turkey,” Cora said. “You haven’t been married as many times as I have, so you’re not as good at lying. I can help you a lot. Your agent told a good story. I helped him with it, because he wasn’t that good at telling stories, odd for a man whose career relies on hype. But then you’ve been his only athlete, and he hasn’t had to hype you.

  “You must know a lot of what Lenny said wasn’t true. I know it wasn’t true, because I made it up. Because I’m a Yankee fan who’d like to win the World Series, and I think you have a shot. Depending on how bad your arm is messed up, of course, but that’s not my department.

  “Anyway, let’s talk about the puzzles.”

  Matt frowned. “Puzzles?”

  “Confused by the plural? I mean puzzles, because there was another one. I suppressed it, you know why? Because Leon Bratz didn’t make it.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You find that odd, that he made one and not the other? It’s not that odd, because Leon Bratz didn’t make either of them.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “There was another puzzle. A puzzle presumably sent to you. A puzzle that said ‘check his files.’ The puzzle was untitled. Then, just in case I missed the point, another copy of the puzzle came titled ‘Matt.’ Oddly appropriate, don’t you think? A puzzle to be named later?

  “That puzzle answered the big question. Why did you come here? I mean, nothing against Bakerhaven, but what’s it got going for it?”

  “I had to rehab.”

  “Yes, but you could rehab anywhere. Why here? Well, in New York City you had access to Amanda Hoyt’s office. In a country rehab, not so much. Unless, of course, you choose the town where she lives. Easy enough to slip away and see her at home. Which you needed to do. Because Amanda Hoyt was your therapist. She handled your emotional problems. And I know you had several. Not the least of which was making the jump from unknown to star in the wink of an eye. A Horatio Alger story. Do and Dare. Strive and Succeed. I don’t know if those are actual titles, but you get the gist. Poor boy makes good through tenacity and hard work.

  “Then Leon Bratz takes aim. A few carefully worded stories hinting at your wife’s prior relationship with your best friend. If only he’d let it go at that, but, no, you’re on the road a lot, and your wife has lunch with your friend, Don. Nothing clandestine about it. I’m sure you knew. I’m sure she told you. But Leon Bratz showed you how it would look in print. You didn’t like that, and you paid him off.”

  Matt said nothing, averted his eyes.

  “Bad move. Worse than you could imagine, because you’re really a babe in the woods. But the cover-up is so much worse than the crime. Absolutely nothing wrong with your wife having lunch with your friend. A very tiny story, no one cares. But you paying money to hush it up, suddenly it’s a huge story and everybody
cares. Now you have to pay to keep that story out of print, and the hits just keep on coming.

  “Then Leon Bratz finds your wife’s pictures in an old magazine. Or at least someone that looks like your wife. Close enough that it might have been her. And how much would you like to pay to suppress that?”

  Matt kept his head down, stared at the tabletop.

  “What’s amazing is you managed to pitch well throughout all this. Which you did. And the better you pitch, the more your value increases. You sign a multimillion-dollar deal.

  “Unfortunately, Leon Bratz has a sideline. He’s a bookie.”

  Matt flinched. He looked up at Cora with wounded eyes.

  Cora nodded. “Yeah, I know. Everyone and his brother bets on the Yankees when you pitch. But if you lose, and if Leon Bratz has taken the money everyone bet on you to win and bet it all on you to lose, he has a veritable goldmine. It doesn’t have to happen every game. Just when he tells you to.”

  Tears ran down Matt’s cheeks.

  “For someone like you, a moral, all-American boy, it’s a killer situation. There was only one way out.

  “I don’t know how you managed to break your arm. Did you break it first, before the accident? It’s all right, you don’t have to tell me. But somehow or other you did. And then you were off the hook. You might still have to pay money, but no way you’d have to throw games.”

  Cora paused, in case Matt wanted to say something, but the young man was too overcome with emotion to comment. “It must have been a terrible burden to carry,” she said sympathetically. “For someone who’s been married more times than you can count, let me give you a hint. You should have let Jackie in on it. She’s true blue.

  “Jackie suspected what happened. She hinted around, but she wasn’t going to confront you on it. Couldn’t get into your shell. She knew you were seeing Amanda Hoyt. She wanted to know why. Wanted to know those inner secrets you would not share.