by Parnell Hall
“I might not have been pleased, but it’s what you should have done.”
“You wanna release Daniel Hurley?” Cora Felton said.
“I can’t release Daniel Hurley,” Chief Harper said. “There’s too much evidence against him. He’s gotta go before the judge.”
“Even in light of what we found?” Cora Felton said.
“What you found doesn’t prove he didn’t do these killings. For all we know, the one thing has nothing to do with the other.” Chief Harper sounded grim. “But that’s not the point. The point is this is a murder case. My murder case. If you have any leads that would shed some light on that murder case, you bring ’em to me.”
“We’re bringing them to you now,” Cora Felton pointed out helpfully.
“Yes,” Chief Harper replied. “And entirely of your own volition. I’m sure being dragged in in handcuffs had nothing to do with it.”
“You want to gripe about it, or you wanna try to figure out what it means?”
“As I understand it now, Emma Hurley has little jingly rhymes leading you all over her house?”
“That’s the gist of it.”
“And you think this was the real game, not the crossword puzzles?”
“We were trying to find that out when we were dragged in here.”
“And you got as far as the study?”
“Yes, we did,” Cora Felton said. “Which would have been pay dirt.”
Chief Harper frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I’m not entirely sure,” Cora Felton answered. “But since we’re all cooperating here, would you mind if I got my purse?”
“Your purse?”
“Yes. Your officer took it away from me. Which was probably wise on his part, since there’s a weapon in it.”
“A weapon?”
“Relax,” Cora said. “I have a permit for it. But the point is, there is a gun in my purse. Among other things.”
“What other things?”
“The last clue—the one in the study—was in an envelope. Just before the officer burst in on us, I shoved it in my purse.”
“Wait here,” Chief Harper ordered brusquely. He strode to the door, jerked it open, and went out. He was back moments later carrying the floppy drawstring purse. He pulled the gun out of it, scowled. “I’m going to take your word that you have a permit for this. I’m also going to hold on to it for the moment so it doesn’t go off accidentally while you rummage through your purse. Now,” he said, handing the purse to her, “you wanna show me that clue?”
“I sure do,” Cora Felton said. “Because it’s the payoff. All the other clues are written in place in Magic Marker. The first clue was on the bottom of a drawer. This clue was also on the bottom of a drawer, but it wasn’t written, it was in an envelope. So it’s not apt to be directions to somewhere else.”
“So where is it?” Chief Harper said.
“I’m looking, I’m looking,” Cora Felton mumbled, fumbling through her purse. She kept pulling out handfuls of junk, heaping them on Chief Harper’s desk. Combs, lipsticks, eyeliners. Tissues, playing cards, double-A batteries, a wallet, a key chain. Pens, pencils, film cases, stamm cases,ps, coins. A paperback murder mystery. A video game cartridge. A diaphragm case. A pack of cigarettes. A silver flask. An ancient 45 Everly Brothers record. A rubber cow.
Chief Harper looked at the growing pile in disbelief. “Good lord, how will you even know what it is you found?”
“When I come to something I don’t recognize,” Cora Felton said. “Ah, what’s this?”
Cora Felton held up a crumpled piece of bright red construction paper. She unfolded it, smoothed it out. It was a piece of paper about six inches long, three inches wide, cut in the shape of a fish.
Chief Harper and Sherry Carter crowded around to look.
It was quite clearly a fish. An eye, gills, and scales were drawn on it in pen.
“What’s on the other side?” Chief Harper said.
The other side had been drawn on exactly the same.
Chief Harper snorted. “A fish. So, is that it? Is that the clue?”
“It’s the clue, all right,” Cora Felton said. “And we have to go back.”
“Back? Back where?”
“To the Hurley house.”
“Why?”
“Because I know what kind of fish this is.”
Chief Harper looked at her in exasperation. “Oh? And what kind of fish is that?”
“A red herring.”
Chief Harper, Cora Felton, and Sherry Carter stood in Emma Hurley’s master bedroom.
“Okay,” Cora Felton said. “This is where it all began, and this is where it has to end. I’m the judge, it is up to me to figure it out, and this time I have to be right. And this time I think I can.”
“You wanna tell me why?” Chief Harper said.
“Because of the fish,” Cora Felton answered. “The fish tells me a lot. It tells me what Emma Hurley planned.” Cora paused, looked around the room. “And what she didn’t plan.”
Chief Harper snorted in disgust. “I got two people dead, and a third in critical condition. You’re still technically under arrest for breaking and entering, so give it to me straight.”
“I assure you I will,” Cora Felton said with great dignity. “We started out with the assumption Emma Hurley left the crossword-puzzle clues. Then the crossword puzzle turned out to be a phony. Then ethe question became: Why would Emma Hurley leave bogus clues? The second puzzle gave an answer. Look.”
Cora Felton strode over to the desk, pulled out a drawer, and held it up. “See. Clue #1 is written on the bottom of this drawer. Without the crossword-puzzle clues, the heirs would all find this clue at the exact same time. Which would send them en masse to look for the second. Emma Hurley didn’t want that. She wanted one person to figure out her game. One winner. The crossword-puzzle clues made sure that happened. They were a red herring to send the heirs off on a false scent. Only the smartest of them would come back and find the real puzzle.”
“That’s obvious,” Chief Harper said. “What’s your revelation?”
“This.” Cora Felton set down the drawer and held up the paper fish. “This is a red herring. And if this is a red herring, then that clue written on the bottom of that desk drawer is a false scent. It is what was intended to send the heirs off in the wrong direction. But if this is a false scent, then there is no longer any reason for the crossword-puzzle clues. Which means Emma Hurley didn’t leave them.”
“Then who did?”
“Someone who didn’t want the other clues found.”
“Why not?”
“Because that someone was trying to win the game.”
“Then why would he or she be playing?” Chief Harper pointed out. “If they knew the crossword-puzzle clues were fake because they left them, why weren’t they looking for this other set of clues?”
“I don’t know yet,” Cora Felton replied. “But it’s a good point, Chief. Whoever planted the crossword-puzzle clues was not necessarily trying to win the game.”
“Jeff Beasley,” Sherry Carter said.
“What?” Chief Harper said.
“He was arrested for breaking and entering. He was found in that bed. But he didn’t steal anything. So what if he was planting the clues?”
“And the heir he was working for killed him,” Cora Felton said.
“What heir? I hate to be a broken record, but if an heir’s behind this who knows the clues are fake”—the Chief pointed at the desk drawer—“why isn’t he looking for this?”
“Like I say, we’re working it out,” Cora Felton said placidly. “But go back to the premise. If someone else planted the crossword-puzzle clues, it had to be someone who didn’t want this drawer found. Maybe because they wanted to win the game, or maybe for another reason entirely. But whatever the reason, they didn’t want it found. Why? Because they didn’t know it was a red herring. They thought it was real. And if it was real, they didn’t want it found.
“Now set that aside for a moment. And think about what Emma Hurley did. Emma Hurley doesn’t know anything about the crossword-puzzle clues, naturally, because she had nothing to do with them. Emma Hurley set up this. These were her clues, and they led straight to a red herring. Her clues were designed to send the heirs off in the wrong direction. We know that because of the paper fish. So what’s the real puzzle? We don’t know. So we come back here, and we start over. As Emma Hurley wanted us to do. So we go back to our original instructions. There’s a forty-year-old puzzle to solve. And the first clue is in that desk.”
Cora Felton rubbed her hands together. “So, let’s find it.”
Cora Felton, Sherry Carter, and Chief Harper descended on the desk. Chief Harper pushed the rolltop open and began searching the cubbyholes. Cora Felton began pulling out the drawers. Sherry Carter picked up the blotter and began taking it out of its frame. They attacked their jobs with relish.
Fifteen minutes later found them considerably dispirited. An exhaustive search of the desk had turned up absolutely nothing.
“Well, that’s it,” Chief Harper said. “We’ve been over every inch of this desk. There’s nothing to find.”
“There must be,” Cora insisted.
“Maybe not,” Chief Harper said. “If someone planted the puzzles, how do you know they didn’t take the real clue?”
“Because they couldn’t find it,” Cora Felton said.
“How do you know that?”
“Because they didn’t find the writing on the drawer, and the writing on the drawer would be easier to find.”
“How do you know they didn’t find the writing on the drawer?”
“Because if they had, they wouldn’t have left the puzzle clues. Because the writing on the drawer makes the puzzle clues unnecessary. Worse than that, it brands them as false.”
Cora exhaled noisily, shook her head. “We’re missing something. It’s a puzzle but the obvious clues lead nowhere. So the clue we want is not obvious. It’s a clue that doesn’t appear to be a clue.”
Cora paused, considered.
She said, “It’s a clue in plain sight.”
Cora nodded in agreement with herself. “Yes. That would be perfect. That would be what Emma Hurley would want.”
“Oh, come on,” Chief Harper said. “If it’s a clue in plain sight, where is it?”
“I don’t know. Maybe someone took it.”
Chief Harper scowled. “You just 01C;You got through telling me no one could find it.”
“Yes. But if they didn’t know it was a clue …” Cora’s eyes gleamed. “Sherry. Refresh my memory. The first time we were up here. When the heirs were all in the room. I’m a little hazy on the details. Remind me what happened.”
“Of course,” Sherry said, fully aware her aunt couldn’t remember a thing about that incident. “You’ll recall we came in last. The heirs were already in the room. And the lawyer and the banker. And Chief Harper. And Becky Baldwin and Aaron Grant.”
“And did any of them go near the desk?”
“They were all gathered around it.”
“Was it open or shut?”
“Shut. I remember the lawyer mentioned that the rolltop was down but was unlocked, and he raised the top.”
Cora’s eyes widened. She snapped her fingers, pointed to the desk.
“Lock it.”
“Huh?” Chief Harper said.
“Lock the rolltop. Every time we’ve opened the desk, it’s been unlocked. We’ve never unlocked it. Or locked it. Lock it now.”
Chief Harper, looking baffled, closed the rolltop, turned the key.
The key wouldn’t turn.
“Well,” Cora Felton said. “Go ahead and lock it.”
“I can’t,” Chief Harper said. “The key doesn’t work.” He pulled it out of the lock, looked at it. “Of course it doesn’t. Look. It’s entirely the wrong kind of key.”
Cora Felton smiled.
“Exactly,” she said.
Judy Gelman was curious. A nosy woman under normal circumstances, the banker’s wife could hardly contain herself at the sight of two women and the Bakerhaven Chief of Police on her front porch at one A.M. She scrunched her nightgown modestly around her neck, and said, “What’s this all about, Chief?”
“I’m sorry to bother you, Mrs. Gelman,” Chief Harper told her. “I need to talk to your husband.”
“Marcus is asleep. What do you want?”
“I’m sorry. It’s a police matter, and it’s urgent. Would you wake him up, please?”
“A police matter?” Mrs. G.elman’s eyes traveled over Sherry Carter and Cora Felton. From her look, they might have been the women who’d led her husband astray.
“That’s right,” Chief Harper said. “I’m looking into the death of Annabel Hurley. Among other things. These two women are helping me out. You know Cora Felton and Sherry Carter, of course. We urgently need to talk to Marcus. Would you wake him, please?”
Mrs. Gelman frowned. “I thought you’d already made an arrest.”
“I’m sorry, but my business is with Marcus,” Chief Harper answered firmly. “Now, with all due respect, Mrs. Gelman, the sooner I talk to him, the sooner you can go back to bed.”
Mrs. Gelman looked at him for a moment. Her expression did not change, but she clearly was not happy. “All right, come in.”
She ushered them inside. They entered, found themselves in an unlit foyer. Mrs. Gelman retreated into the darkness, and moments later a light came on. It proved to be a single bulb from a wooden floor lamp in the living room.
“Wait here,” Mrs. Gelman said, and trudged up the stairs.
Chief Harper, Cora Felton, and Sherry Carter stood in the living room and looked around. The floor lamp stood next to an overstuffed chair and footstool, obviously a favorite reading spot. The room also boasted a couch and coffee table, a breakfront, a sideboard, and several end tables, all period pieces.
Cora Felton nodded approvingly. “Some of those are worth money,” she said.
“Oh?” Chief Harper said.
“Yes. My fifth husband, Melvin, collected antiques.” She frowned at the remembrance. “That’s why I don’t.”
Chief Harper was about to comment when the stairs squeaked. He turned to the door as the plump form of Marcus Gelman entered the room. The banker was barefoot. He wore a blue bathrobe and bright orange pajamas. He had stopped to put on his glasses, but not to comb his hair, which stuck out from either side of his bald head.
His wife was not with him, which, in itself, spoke volumes.
Chief Harper could imagine the whispered argument, and was sure, though not present, Judy was in earshot.
Cora Felton sized Marcus Gelman up with interest. The only other time she’d met him, at the Hurley mansion, she’d been somewhat indisposed. He was clearly nervous, yet he seemed eager too. He peered at the faces of his unexpected guests intently, as if looking for a sign.
“Yes?” Marcus said. His voice broke slightly, and it came out as a croak.
Chief Harper said, “Mr. Gelman, I don’t mean to alarm you. I just have a few questions to ask you, and these women do too. You remember Cora Felton and Sherry Carter. They were there the other day when you unlocked the Hurley house. As you know, Miss Felton is the woman designa Yoted as the judge in Emma Hurley’s will. As such, she has something to say to you. I do too, but I’m going to let her go first. Miss Felton?”
“Thank you,” Cora said. “Mr. Gelman, you’re a banker, you have certain responsibilities. And you are a man of discretion. You are privy to information that is confidential. You do not discuss your depositors’ accounts. However, it is my contention that Emma Hurley had business with your bank that no one knew about, no one except you. And I am asking for information about that business now.”
“One moment,” Chief Harper interjected. “Let me add something to that. Marcus, you know I wouldn’t want you to do anything you shouldn’t. But I have to tell you, this has become a mur
der investigation, and I have reason to believe that you have information pertinent to a crime. I’ll get a warrant if I have to. I’ll wake up Judge Hobbs right now if I need to. Because I would like an answer to a question I have a feeling you would normally not want to answer. I’m giving you the background to show you why you should answer. Now I’m just going to come right out and ask.”
Chief Harper reached in his pocket, took out the key. “Miss Felton, would you do the honors?”
“Yes, I will. Mr. Gelman, I hand you a key. I’m going to ask you now in my official capacity as Emma Hurley’s representative, would you tell me please, as president of the bank, if this is a key to Emma Hurley’s safe deposit box?”
Marcus Gelman took the key, held it up, and inspected it. He was sweating, and his fingers trembled as he turned it over in his hands. Then his plump body heaved, and a gusty sigh rattled his flabby cheeks. He seemed to cling to the little silver key as to a life preserver.
“Thank God,” Marcus Gelman murmured.
The courthouse was jammed. Every available seat was taken and every inch of floor space was filled. From her vantage point in the back of the courtroom, Sherry Carter stood and surveyed the scene.
Judge Hobbs sat at his bench, calmly awaiting the time to begin. He seemed impassive, as befitted a judge. From his manner this was nothing special, just another courtroom session.
But it clearly was not. For one thing, there was no defendant. Clustered around the defense table sat Chief Harper, Cora Felton, county prosecutor Henry Firth, Dr. Barney Nathan, and bank president Marcus Gelman, who were conferring with one another, thick as thieves.
Nor were there any jurors. The jury box was nearly empty, having been set aside for the heirs. The Applegates and the Hurleys were in the front row, sitting as far apart from each other as possible. Whether by accident or design, Philip and Phyllis sat at the extreme ends, with their spouses in between, as buffers.
Mildred Sims and the young yard boy whose name Sherry could not recall were also in the jury box, sitting second row center. The housekeeper sat stiff as a ramrod, her chin eles far apvated, looking neither left nor right. The yard boy, by contrast, was looking everywhere. He seemed thrilled by the proceedings, and was constantly shifting in his seat, which was, Sherry noted, the one under which they had found the second set of clues.