$10,000 in Small, Unmarked Puzzles

by Parnell Hall

  The bodyguard came back with the purse. “Here you go, ma’am. If you want anything, I’ll be right outside.”

  Sherry sat up in bed, snapped open the purse. She reached for the phone, but didn’t feel it. She searched the bottom of the purse, but it wasn’t there.

  Yes, it was. It was there. She knew it was there. She’d checked it on the way home to make sure the battery was charged. And it was. At least three quarters charged. She’d planned to find the adapter, plug it in, charge the phone, once other things were taken care of. But the point is, it was there.

  Sherry dumped the purse out on the bed. Squeezed the leather sides. There was nothing in any pouch or pocket. The purse was now empty. It had to be on the bed.

  It wasn’t.

  Sherry pawed through her things, putting them back in the purse one at a time.

  No phone.

  Jennifer stirred.

  Sherry craned her neck, looked.

  The baby flailed her arm, didn’t wake up.

  Sherry heaved a sigh. She couldn’t deal with her now.

  “David,” she called.

  There was no answer.

  “David!”

  Jennifer stirred again.

  Sherry sucked in her breath.

  The door opened.

  The bodyguard started in.

  Sherry put her finger to her lips.

  He stopped short. Looked over at the baby. Nodded comprehension. He put up his hand, mouthed, “What do you want?”

  Sherry motioned him closer.

  He came over to the bed.

  “I can’t find my phone,” she whispered.

  “Could you have put it down somewhere?”

  “I didn’t have it.”

  “When was the last time you saw it?”

  “On the way home from the hospital. I checked it in the car.”

  “Could you have left it there?”

  “I put it in my purse.” She grimaced apologetically. “I hate to ask you. Could I use your phone?”

  “Huh? Oh, sure.” He patted his pocket, made a face. “Oh. It’s out there. I was making a call. I’ll get it.”

  Sherry put her finger back to her lips.

  He tiptoed out.

  Sherry looked apprehensively at the baby, but Jennifer was quiet. She realized she’d been holding her breath. This was no good. The irritation, the tension, wasn’t good for her. She was supposed to take it easy. A string of unfortunate events had blown that out the window. She needed Aaron after all. She was going to ask him to come back. She hoped he’d finished his story.

  The bodyguard came in with the cell phone. “Here you are.” He flipped it open. His face fell. “Huh? That’s funny.”

  “What?”

  “I left it on. It’s off.” He pushed the button. Frowned. “It’s dead.”

  “Let me have it,” Sherry said. She held out her hand.

  “No, I know how to work it. I use it all the time. Something’s happened to it.” He pressed the button again. “Nothing.”

  “Gimme,” Sherry said.

  He handed it to her.

  She flipped it closed. Flipped it open. Pressed the buttons. Tried various combinations of buttons. Holding them long. Holding them short. She turned it over. Pressed on a sliding panel. It was stuck. She pushed in, pressed harder. A piece slid back.

  Sherry sucked in her breath.

  “There’s no battery.”

  “What?”

  “The battery’s gone.”

  “That’s not possible.”

  “Someone’s in the house!” Sherry said.

  “No one’s in the house.”

  “The phone is dead. Your battery’s missing. My phone is gone.”

  “It could be coincidence.”

  “It’s not coincidence.”

  “It doesn’t mean someone’s in the house.”

  “Oh, no? Weren’t you just on the phone?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Did it have a battery then?”

  He frowned. “Huh?”

  Sherry blinked. Could he really be that stupid? The man was tough as nails. But not very bright.

  He turned. Faced the door. Drew his gun.

  “Is anybody here?”

  The baby started crying.

  Chapter

  58

  Cora almost missed the crime scene. The car had been towed away, but the ribbon was still up, encircling nothing. It was surreal, as if the crime scene itself had been teleported somewhere else.

  Cora knew better. She slipped under the crime scene ribbon and began checking the ground.

  The police, she knew, had gone over the car with a fine-tooth comb. And they’d found nothing. At least, they hadn’t found a puzzle. If they had, Chief Harper would have brought it to her to solve it. If there was a puzzle involved with the third murder it had to be somewhere else.

  Of course, it could have been on the body, but in that case Barney Nathan would have found it. True, he hadn’t found the one on the first body, but only because it was stuck in the jacket lining. And the killer hadn’t done that, Cora had. So by all rights the car and the body were clean.

  That left the crime scene. If there was a puzzle, it was here. It was up to her to find it.

  The car had been parked far enough off the road to have been in the tall grass and the low bushes. With it gone, it was impossible to tell exactly where it had been. Sam had strung his crime scene ribbon around two stakes and a couple of trees. The tree in front of the car wasn’t that near. The crime scene ribbon looked like it had been surrounding one of those super stretch limos the kids used for the senior prom these days, good God, what were parents thinking of? Anyway, that left a lot of ground to cover. It didn’t all need covering, Cora just couldn’t tell what did and what didn’t.

  It bugged her that she was looking because Rick Reed had put the idea in her head, asking if there’d been a puzzle with the body. Before he brought it up, it hadn’t occurred to her that there might be a puzzle at the crime scene. On the other hand, it hadn’t occurred to her that there wouldn’t be.

  Cora began kicking the tall grass aside with her foot. If the killer left something small enough she had to crawl on her hands and knees to find, the killer was going to get away with it.

  Cora had just reached the point where she figured the car couldn’t possibly be that long, when she saw it. The corner of a scrap of paper poking out from under a bush.

  Could it be that easy? Could the police have overlooked it? Why not? It was garbage. The type of trash that littered the highways. No reason to give it a second look.

  Cora reached down, pulled it out.

  It wasn’t just a scrap. It was a whole sheet of paper.

  Cora turned it over.

  It was a flier for Walmart.

  She was tempted to throw it back. No, she’d be a good girl. She crumpled it up, stuck it in her purse.

  That’s when she saw it.

  A faint movement behind one of the trees in the maple grove.

  If she hadn’t been hyper alert she would have missed it. But her nerves were raw. She glanced at the tree surreptitiously, while pretending to search a bush.

  Had she imagined it?

  No, there it was again.

  A gray glint behind the maple tree.

  The scope of a rifle?

  Cora gripped the butt of her gun in her purse, and pretended to scour the ground. Told herself she was being silly. Could that really be Bill French? The man was diabolical. But to hide out at the crime scene just in the hope that she would come to search it? When the car was gone? And where the hell was his car? How did he get here? He walked on foot a good mile just to get the drop on her? Wasn’t there an easier way?

  To kill her, yes. But to play with her head? This was exactly the right move. Would be having exactly the effect it was having now. Could he have planned that? If so, could she expect a rifle shot from cover? Not killing her, just crippling her, leaving her helpless on the ground so
he could walk up and gloat at his cleverness and her folly?

  The gray shape moved again. Taking aim?

  Then flew up into the branches.

  Cora exhaled loudly. Relaxed. Felt like a fool.

  The noise was so unexpected she jumped a mile.

  Good God! What was that? Had she been shot?

  Before she could figure it out, it happened again.

  Then she realized. It was Aaron Grant’s cell phone.

  It was ridiculous how startled she was, but she’d never had a cell phone before.

  Where the hell was it?

  Oh, yeah. She’d stuck it in her purse.

  The phone rang three more times before she managed to find it. She pulled it out, looked at it. Was this one that opened, or one that didn’t? It looked like one that opened. There weren’t any buttons on it. She turned it sideways, found the groove. Flipped it open.

  “Hello?”

  “Cora?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Dan Finley. I thought you weren’t going to pick up.”

  “Yeah, but I did. What is it?”

  “I traced the plate.”

  “And?”

  “His name is David McDermott.”

  And the phone went dead.

  Chapter

  59

  Jennifer’s wails cut through the night.

  He whirled around. “Make her stop!”

  Sherry wanted to jump up and run to Jennifer, but had been warned not to. She could rip out her stitches. She could start bleeding internally.

  “I can’t get up.”

  “Make her stop.”

  “Give her to me.”

  “Okay.”

  He picked up the baby. Still holding the gun, he cradled her in his arms, rocked her gently. “There there,” he said. “There there.”

  “Give her to me.”

  “Hush little girl. Hush little girl.” He bounced her on his shoulder. The sobs ceased. She started cooing. “There there.”

  “Give her to me.”

  He looked at her.

  Shook his head.

  “No.”

  “What?”

  “No, I don’t think so. She’s doing well with me. I think I’ll hold her a moment.”

  “Give me my baby.”

  “Not just yet. You have to make a phone call.”

  Sherry, overcome, cried, “I haven’t got a phone!”

  “Yeah.” He cradled the baby on one side, dug in his pocket, pulled something out, tossed it on the bed.

  Sheer terror gripped Sherry as she tried to catch up with what was going on. She’d been disparaging the bodyguard for being slow, but she was the one whose brain couldn’t process. What’s happening, what’s going on, good God, why won’t he give me my baby?

  She snatched the thing he threw on the bed. Picked it up and looked.

  It was a cell phone battery.

  Chapter

  60

  Cora flew down the road hoping a cop would try to stop her. She’d lead them on a merry chase. She wouldn’t stop unless they shot her tires. Even then she’d ride the rims. She’d nearly went off the road twice trying to use the cell phone. It was hard to dial a cell phone in a moving car. She’d hardly ever dialed a cell phone anywhere in her life. It wasn’t working. Why the hell wasn’t it working? She couldn’t really look while driving at top speed with one hand.

  Cora skidded into a turn, headed for the center of town.

  “Be in the street,” she said aloud, meaning Dan, or Chief Harper, or any damn cop.

  She was the stupidest woman alive, trying to protect her niece by inviting the killer into the house. If anything happened to Sherry, if anything happened to the baby …

  A man crossing the street leaped out of the way, hurling curses at her tailpipe. But no cops. No help. She was on her own.

  Cora set her jaw, floored the accelerator.

  Chapter

  61

  A tear ran down Sherry’s face.

  “Why are you doing this?”

  He shrugged. “Because I can. Because I delight in the thought of Melvin seeing it, realizing he caused it, realizing it’s all his fault. I’m sure he realizes that by now. He’s in the clutches of the law, where I can’t get to him. At least, physically. But spiritually. Emotionally. Psychologically. He’s mine.”

  “Give me my baby.”

  “No, I don’t think so.” He waggled the gun. “I don’t want to shoot a young mother. At least, not yet. Maybe when I’m leaving. But now I just want you not to make trouble. You’re not going to make trouble, are you?”

  Her lip quivered. “Give me my baby.”

  He smiled. “See? I don’t need the gun.” He slipped it back in his shoulder holster. “I have the baby. All I would have to do is drop her. I’m not going to, I’m very sure-handed. I wouldn’t drop her. Unless you made me. You’re not going to make me, are you?”

  “No.”

  “No. Of course not. As long as I hold the baby, I can make you do anything.” His eyes traveled over her. “Anything.”

  Her flesh crawled. She had to keep from crying out. From doing anything to anger or incite him.

  “We have some unfinished business, you and I. We have something I need you to do. You know how to do it. You know where it goes. Stick it in.”

  Sherry put the battery in the cell phone. Her hands were trembling.

  “There you go. Now then, turn it on. The power switch is on the right. See it. You can’t miss it. It says POWER. Press that. Hold.”

  The cell phone made warm-up sounds.

  “There we go. Now, remember. This is not your cell phone. This is my cell phone. There’s no one you can reach on speed-dial accidently on purpose. You will have to punch all the numbers in. You know who I want you to call? Not Melvin. He’s in jail. Again. Melvin’s back in jail again. A cute little refrain. And such a good message. A feel-good song. No, I want you to call his ex-wife. I want you to call your aunt. I want you to call Cora Felton, the Puzzle Lady.”

  Sherry shook her head, pleadingly. “I can’t.”

  “Yes, you can. You can and you will. Just punch in the number.”

  “You don’t understand. She hasn’t got a phone.”

  “Hmm?”

  “She doesn’t have a cell phone.”

  “She does now.”

  “What?”

  “Your husband. The gullible one. The one who wrote that story. Just before he left, I gave him a message. From you. Well, from both of us, really, but I said it was from you. I told him to give her his cell phone. You could get in touch with him through the paper, but we needed to be able to get in touch with her. To call her, you just call him. So go ahead. I’m sure you know the number.”

  Sherry’s breath was coming short. “Please put down the baby.”

  “Make the call.”

  “Please.”

  He held up one finger. “Make … the call.”

  Sherry punched in the number. Held the phone to her ear. Listened. Shuddered. “It went to voice mail.”

  “What?”

  “The phone isn’t on. It went straight to voice mail.”

  “He’s a reporter. His phone must be on.”

  “It isn’t.”

  “I think you dialed the wrong number. Did you do that to me? Did you dial the wrong number?”

  “No.”

  “How can I be sure?” He looked down at the baby.

  “No, no, I dialed the right number, I dialed the right number!”

  “Let’s check on that.”

  Sherry raised the phone. “Here, I’ll show you.”

  “No, not you. I’ll do it.”

  He reached in his pocket, took out a cell phone.

  Sherry gasped.

  It was hers.

  He flipped it open.

  “You must have hubby on the speed-dial, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “You wouldn’t give me the wrong number, would you? What’s his name, Aaro
n? Let’s see. Contacts. Listed under A. Here we are. Aaron. Cell and work. Cell. Enter. Call.” He put the phone to his ear. Frowned. “It went to voice mail.”

  “She doesn’t know how to use it,” Sherry said. “She probably turned it off by mistake.”

  “The hell I did. The battery’s dead.”

  He spun around.

  Cora Felton stood in the doorway.

  She was holding a gun.

  Chapter

  62

  “Bill French, I presume? I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Cora Felton.”

  He smiled. “Yes. You were running out just as I got here. We didn’t have a chance to talk.”

  “We have time now. Give my niece the baby. Let’s have a little chat.”

  “Melvin taught you to shoot, didn’t he?”

  “Yes.”

  “Knowing Melvin, he taught you to shoot first and ask questions later.”

  “Melvin always was impulsive.”

  “Yes, he was. If any of that rubbed off, I don’t think I’d like it. I think I’ll hang onto the baby. Cute kid. I’m getting quite attached to her.”

  “If you hurt that baby…”

  “I’m dead. I understand. We have a stalemate here. If I hurt the baby, you’ll shoot me. If you shoot me, I’ll hurt the baby. It’s a no-win situation. So we work it out. I leave, you get the baby back.”

  “Fine. Put her down.”

  He grinned. “And trust you to let me walk out? I don’t think so. I walk out of here. You don’t try to follow, I leave the baby downstairs.”

  “You take one step toward the door with that baby and I’ll blow your head off.”

  “I didn’t think you’d go for that.”

  “Anyone obsessed enough to carry a grudge this many years, you’d expect them to behave honorably? And for a lousy five hundred bucks.”

  “Is that what Melvin told you?”

  “He said it wasn’t the money, it was the principle of the thing. You couldn’t stand being stood up to. You wouldn’t back down.”

  “He said it was over money?”

  “That’s right.”

  “And you believed him? Melvin?”

  “It wasn’t over money?” Cora said. She didn’t care. She didn’t believe him. She just wanted him to keep talking so he wouldn’t hurt the baby.