The Purloined Puzzle

by Parnell Hall

  “I’ll wring your neck.”

  “Relax, I’m not going to do it. I’ve got plans for that receipt.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like hold it over your head whenever I want to put pressure on you.”

  “I’m not in the mood, Cora.”

  “I know. I’ll drop you off in town.”

  Cora drove into town and pulled up in front of the police station.

  Becky got out but didn’t close the door. She leaned into the car, looked at Cora suspiciously. “You’re not going back to the Country Kitchen.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “To put the receipt in Peggy’s truck.”

  “I won’t.”

  “If I find out you did…”

  “How would you find out?”

  “You’re going to do it?”

  “I’m not going to do it.”

  “Swear to God?”

  “Absolutely. If a receipt is found in Peggy’s truck, it will be because she bought the identical knife.”

  “Cora.”

  “She didn’t, I won’t, it’s not happening. Worry about something else. You got a lot of choices. Pick one.”

  Becky heaved a huge sigh and slammed the door.

  Cora turned the car around and drove out of town at a leisurely pace. Becky watched her all the way.

  As soon as she was out of sight, Cora sped up and raced to the Country Kitchen. She pulled into a spot near Peggy’s truck, put the car in Park but left the motor running.

  Cora hadn’t lied to Becky. She had no intention of putting the receipt in Peggy’s truck. She had something better.

  Cora grabbed her drawstring purse, hurried to Peggy’s truck, and wrenched the driver’s-side door open. The overhead light came on, but there was nothing she could do about that. She leaned in, rummaged through her purse, and pulled out the bloody handkerchief. She unfolded it and spread it out on the seat of the truck.

  Before she closed the door, she looked closely to make sure it was really blood. She’d feel like a damn fool if turned out to be one Melvin had used to wipe off lipstick.

  It was blood, all right. Lipstick didn’t coagulate. At least as far as she knew. Was curdle the same as coagulate? As a wordsmith she should know that.

  Her face froze.

  Cora couldn’t plant the handkerchief in Peggy’s Dawson’s truck. She couldn’t plant it anywhere at all.

  She snatched it up again, stuck it back in her purse.

  Cora slammed the door of the truck, ran back to her car, and flew out of the parking lot.

  Chapter

  41

  Cora skidded up the driveway, spinning her wheels and scattering gravel in all directions. She lurched to a stop, grabbed her purse, and hopped out of the car.

  Sherry’s car was gone. So was her husband Aaron’s. This time of day the young reporter would be in his office at the Bakerhaven Gazette. There was no one home.

  Cora ran up the walk, flung open the door. Buddy scooted out. She left him to his own devices, went inside, and dumped her drawstring purse out on the kitchen table. She grabbed the bloody handkerchief and sat down to give it a closer look.

  It was one of Melvin’s old handkerchiefs, dating back to the days they were together. Melvin had given her one every now and then when his escapades had reduced her to tears. It wasn’t often she let him see her that way. On the other hand, tears were a useful weapon for a woman, and Cora wasn’t above using them. On such occasions, he always had a handkerchief. This was one of them. It had the same old laundry mark.

  Cora sucked in her breath. The handkerchief hadn’t been planted on Melvin. The handkerchief was Melvin’s.

  Melvin was the killer.

  Buddy scratching at the screen door brought Cora back to reality. She let him in, and he raced around the kitchen, yipping and demanding food. It was purely a ritual. He had food, he had just chosen not to eat it because no one was home.

  Cora usually ignored him. Today, she wanted him to shut up. She jerked the refrigerator door open, grabbed a piece of bologna, tore it up, and dropped it in his bowl. Buddy thought he’d died and gone to heaven.

  Cora went out to the back porch and took the lid off the garbage can for recyclables. She pawed through and found a plastic takeout container from the Chinese restaurant. It was a large one, had probably held orange beef or sesame chicken. She found the plastic lid, took them to the sink, and gave them a good wash. They’d already been rinsed out, but she did it again. It was the first time she’d ever washed a recyclable item, but the novelty was lost on her. She worked feverishly, rubbing the container bone dry with a dish towel.

  She put the bloody handkerchief inside, snapped on the top.

  Cora grabbed a flashlight, took the container, and went out the kitchen door, with Buddy in hot pursuit.

  She found a shovel in the toolshed and headed for the trees out back.

  Between the oaks and maples was a small stand of pine. Dead needles formed a carpet underneath. Cora pushed them aside, got down to the dirt. She grabbed the shovel and attacked it. It was laced with roots from the trees, not easy digging. She chopped them away with the blade of the shovel, dug a shallow hole. She put the plastic takeout container in, covered it with dirt, and pushed dead needles over the top.

  Buddy watched the whole process. He didn’t bark. The dog that didn’t bark in the night.

  Cora giggled. She was getting giddy. Compounding felonies would do that to a person.

  Cora stood up and inspected her work with the flashlight. She couldn’t tell. By the light of day it might be a different matter. But in a few days it would be fine.

  Cora came back around the house just as Sherry was parking the car.

  Jennifer exploded from the front seat crying, “Auntie Cora! Auntie Cora!”

  Buddy intercepted her and they took off over the lawn.

  “What were you doing out back?” Sherry said.

  “Nothing.”

  “What do you mean, nothing? You’re acting like a giddy schoolgirl.” Sherry’s eyes widened. “Were you smoking?”

  “No.”

  “It’s understandable. You’ve been under a lot of stress.”

  “Wanna smell my breath?”

  “I’ve had more attractive offers.”

  “I wish I had.”

  Jennifer and Buddy came running back. Cora seized the opportunity to change the subject.

  “How was her date?”

  “Great. He took her to dinner.”

  “It always starts with dinner.”

  “At McDonald’s.”

  “Amateur. Though I had a date take me to McDonald’s once.”

  “Did you have a Happy Meal?”

  “He didn’t. Where’s Aaron?”

  “Working late. There’s been a murder, in case you haven’t heard.”

  “Does he have any news?”

  “I don’t know. Do you?”

  “Nothing he can print.”

  “What did you do now?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Come on, Cora. You’re running around in the dark with a flashlight.”

  “What’s your point?”

  “You’re up to something.

  “I’m always up to something. That’s my nature.”

  Headlights came up the driveway. Aaron pulled up and got out.

  Jennifer screamed, “Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!” and flew across the lawn.

  “You shouldn’t let her run around in the dark,” Cora said. “What if Aaron didn’t see her?”

  Daddy was already spinning his little girl in a circle. “How come she’s out so late?”

  “She just got home herself. She had a playdate.”

  “Sherry’s pimping her out,” Cora said. “You should have a talk with her.”

  “Oh?”

  “The Stebbins boy,” Sherry said.

  “He took her to dinner,” Cora said.

  “Alone?”

  “There might have
been a grown-up involved.”

  “Why are you all outside?”

  “Cora was up to something in the backyard,” Sherry said.

  “Please,” Cora said. “Not in front of the C-H-I-L-D.”

  “She can spell,” Sherry said.

  “Then not in front of the R-E-P-O-R-T-E-R.”

  “What the hell is going on?”

  “Daddy said ‘hell.’”

  “It’s her fault.” Aaron pointed at Cora.

  “Come on,” Sherry said. “Let’s go inside and put someone to bed.”

  “Who?” Jennifer said.

  “Guess.”

  “Auntie Cora?” Jennifer said brightly.

  “Judges?” Sherry said.

  “You guys are having entirely too much fun,” Aaron said.

  “Okay, bum us out,” Cora said. “Tell us about your day.”

  Aaron looked at Sherry. “What’s with her?”

  “It’s the Melvin effect. She’s getting giddy.”

  They went inside. Jennifer and Buddy raced upstairs to wash up. The grown-ups went in the kitchen and Sherry made coffee.

  “So, what’d you write?” Cora demanded.

  Aaron looked at Sherry. “She ever let you catch your breath?”

  “Yeah, I wouldn’t mind hearing what you wrote, either,” Sherry said.

  “I wrote an exclusive interview with Melvin Crabtree.”

  “Really?” Cora said.

  “Yeah,” Aaron said. “I’d be more thrilled if everyone and his brother didn’t have an exclusive interview with Melvin Crabtree. The only thing exclusive about it was he didn’t say the same thing he did in his exclusive interview with Rick Reed.”

  “Melvin doesn’t stick to a script. He has a few talking points he touches on, the rest he improvises. So what did he tell you?”

  “The witness who claims he put the knife in the car isn’t mistaken; he’s lying. The guy’s a friend of the victim with an ax to grind. He was going to say he saw Johnny put the knife in his car, but when the police arrested him he changed his tune.”

  “I like that,” Cora said.

  “I thought you would.”

  “That’s not what he told Rick Reed?”

  “No. He told him he has no idea why this is happening, he figures it’s just locals trying to blame their troubles on an outsider.”

  “Was Rick happy with that statement?”

  “Rick’s too dumb to know it’s not news. If he gets the principals on camera, he’s happy.”

  “And that’s all?”

  “Relax. He didn’t say anything about the book.”

  Cora looked at Sherry. “You told him?” she said accusingly.

  “He’s my husband.”

  “Melvin was my husband. I didn’t tell him everything.”

  “How’d that work out?”

  Cora glowered at Sherry and turned to Aaron. “You’re not writing, alluding to, hinting at, or in any other way intimating that there is now, or might ever be, a project under way in which Melvin would be recounting anything he might know about me from our years together.”

  Aaron put up his hands. “Hey, my lips are sealed. If Melvin spills the beans, there’s nothing I can do.”

  There came the sound of tires on gravel, and headlights raked the window.

  “Expecting anybody?” Aaron said.

  “Probably for Jennifer,” Cora said, on her way to the front door. “Once a girl gets a reputation…”

  A pickup truck stopped at the top of the drive. Peggy Dawson hopped out and ran up the path.

  Cora’s heart sank.

  She was waving a piece of paper.

  Chapter

  42

  Cora’s fears were groundless.

  “I found a Sudoku!” Peggy cried.

  Cora let out her breath. She hadn’t realized she was holding it. What a relief. As bad as she was with crosswords, she was good at Sudoku. She could whiz through one in minutes. Instead of having to tap-dance around the fact she couldn’t do the puzzle, she would give the girl a flash of her expertise and send her on her way.

  A little ritual whining was called for, however.

  “Oh, for goodness’ sakes,” Cora said. “I am not open day and night as your personal puzzle solver. Why didn’t you take this to Harvey Beerbaum?”

  “I didn’t know he could do Sudoku.”

  “He can. Not as well as I can, but he can.”

  “Please,” Peggy pleaded. “I don’t wanna go over to that guy’s house after dark. He’s creepy.”

  The idea of Harvey Beerbaum as a wicked seductor of young girls struck Cora as funny. “All right,” she said magnanimously, “just this once. Come in and I’ll solve your puzzle for you.”

  Cora brought Peggy into the kitchen and introduced her to Sherry. Aaron had gone upstairs to put Jennifer to bed.

  “I was making coffee,” Sherry said. “You want some?”

  “Sure.”

  “Cream and sugar?”

  “Black.”

  Cora suppressed a smile. Tough teenager. Drank it black to show off. Coffee was better with milk and sugar.

  “What you got there?” Sherry asked.

  “It’s a Sudoku,” Cora said. “I told her I’d do it just this once.”

  “That’s nice of you. You’ve had a long day.”

  “It’s easier than arguing. You got a pencil, Sherry? You must have one around here somewhere.” Cora started jerking open drawers.

  “It won’t be with the silverware,” Sherry said. “Try the utility drawer.”

  “Which one is that?”

  “How many years have we lived in this house?”

  “It’s not enough I gotta do a damn puzzle, I have to play guessing games?”

  “Next to the stove.”

  Cora pulled the drawer open. She found a box of kitchen matches, a church key, as she used to call it when she was drinking, a Swiss Army knife, and one gnarled, stubby pencil.

  “Ah, here we go. I’ll have this done in no time.”

  Cora sat at the kitchen table, picked up the puzzle. “Where’d you find this, Peggy?”

  “Someone left it in my truck.”

  That gave Cora a turn. She’d been close to leaving something else in Peggy’s truck. “When was that?”

  “Just now. I was having a cheeseburger at the Country Kitchen. I came out and there it was.”

  “Someone left it there during dinner?”

  “That’s right.”

  “That’s strange. You sure it wasn’t there before?”

  “It was right on the seat. Does that look like I sat on it?”

  The paper was unwrinkled. “No, it doesn’t,” Cora conceded.

  “See? Someone left it there during dinner. It’s strange, but there you are. That’s why I’m bringing it to you. Because it’s strange.”

  “All right. Let’s solve this sucker.”

  “How long’s it going to take you?”

  “Got a stopwatch?”

  “You’re that fast?”

  “I am,” Cora said.

  She flew through the puzzle. It was only moderately hard. She was done in minutes.

  Peggy was duly impressed. “Wow, that’s something.” She grabbed the puzzle, peered at it. “So what’s it mean?”

  “It doesn’t mean anything.”

  “It has to.”

  “It can’t. It’s just a bunch of numbers.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “But what?”

  “Someone left me a crossword. Now they left me a Sudoku. Maybe the Sudoku refers to it.”

  “I don’t see how.”

  “Well, look,” Peggy said. She pulled the crossword out of her hip pocket and unfolded it. “A crossword has numbers. Twenty-six across, seventeen down. Why couldn’t it refer to that?”

  “Smart girl,” Sherry said.

  Cora gave her a look that might conceivably kill. “Yes. Very smart girl. But there’s a flaw in your logic. A Sudoku has eighty-one n
umbers, the numbers one through nine, each used nine times. There’s no across, there’s no down, there’s no way to break the numbers up.”

  “Well, couldn’t the crossword be referring to the Sudoku?”

  “It’s a fascinating theory. Feel free to pursue it.”

  “But you’re the Puzzle Lady.”

  “I am. That doesn’t mean I can find a relationship that doesn’t exist. I will look. If anything comes to mind, I will let you know. But nothing jumps out at me.”

  “Okay,” Peggy said. “You can keep the puzzle. I made a copy.”

  “That’s fine. Of course I don’t have a copy of the Sudoku, but you could drop one off tomorrow. Just stick it in our mailbox.”

  “I’ll run one off now,” Sherry said.

  “You can do that?”

  “Sure. I’ll scan it and print it.”

  Sherry grabbed the Sudoku and headed for the office.

  “Well, aren’t you helpful,” Cora said.

  She didn’t sound sincere.

  Chapter

  43

  Cora banged on Melvin’s door. She was going to bang on the window, but it was still broken. No reason to call attention to it.

  Melvin swung the door open and smiled. “I knew you’d give in.”

  “I’m not giving anything, Melvin.”

  Cora pushed by him into the room and looked around as if seeing it for the first time. “Oh, God, how can you live like this?”

  “It does need a woman’s touch,” Melvin said. “Then again, so do I.”

  “Yeah, it ain’t happening. Listen, there’s been some developments in the case you should know about.”

  “Whatever they are, they don’t involve me.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Nothing in the case involves me.”

  “Peggy Dawson found a Sudoku in her truck.”

  “Why should I care about that?”

  “Because she’d been running around with the guy who saw you put the murder weapon in your car.”

  “What’s that got to do with a Sudoku?”

  “Absolutely nothing. But Peggy’s been bombarding me with puzzles, insisting they have something to do with the murder.”

  “Do they?”

  “No, but it doesn’t matter. The point is, Peggy’s advancing theories. The puzzle’s just a means of introduction. She’s pushing an agenda.”

  “What agenda?”