by Nero Blanc
Rosco stood and began to pace Al’s office. “Meltdown . . . Meltdown . . . I think maybe you’ve hit on something, my love. Try this on for size, Al: What we have here might be the meltdown of a confidence team. Who are the members of the group? Who could have been in Palm Beach three years ago? Three people, the way I see it.”
“Obviously, one is Kelly,” Al said.
“And Jack Curry,” Belle said excitedly. “We know he was in Louisville, so why couldn’t he have been part of the Florida show circuit, too? It’s a close-knit community—isn’t that what we’ve been told? Maybe Jack even selected Kelly’s marks in the first place, rather than simply discovering that she was up to no good. But who’s the third person?”
A knowing chuckle escaped Abe lips. “Ryan. Of course. It makes perfect sense. She’s new enough on the Wenstarin Farms scene. And if that’s the case, then quite possibly she was the woman Stuart Stewart—”
He was interrupted as Nick Simpson stuck his head back in the door and said, “I just got off the horn with a detective down in Palm Beach. It turns out Jack Curry worked for Stuart Stewart. As a trainer, that time. But the woman on the con was larger than Kelly. I hate to say it, but the description sounded a lot like Ryan Collins.”
“Tell us something we didn’t know,” Lever said with a smile.
Rosco continued with his speculation. “So . . . Jack Curry picks the marks, and then either Kelly or Ryan move in.” He started pacing again. “But they reach Newcastle and begin to suffer serious confidence team meltdown. Ryan discovers she has a good thing going with Todd and wants out. Then she shafts them both by becoming Mrs. Collins—and therefore the big, bad boss-lady. Jack hooks up with his ex-wife and realizes he’s also staring a gift horse in the mouth. All of which leaves Kelly out in the cold, saddled with the lowly barn manager.”
“So she decides to branch out on her own,” Abe Jones said, advancing the theory. “She hooks up with Gudgeon . . . Then Curry recognizes that she’s about to ruin everything he has going and opts to blow the whistle on her in the form of some ultra-sneaky crosswords. Kelly gets wise and whacks him.”
“Lovely,” Lever grumbled. “I can buy all that, but who killed Ryan?”
“And we’re back to—who made the first two puzzles?” Belle asked. “That’s who Kelly should have killed!”
Rosco replied, “Well, if we take into consideration that the crosswords were intended to frame Chip and Angel and that Jack and Kelly had been partners, why couldn’t they have made them together? Maybe the first two grids are in Kelly’s handwriting, and Jack slipped in references to her name without her being aware of it. If Belle never caught on, why would she?” He looked at Jones. “Do we have any samples of Kelly Polk’s handwriting?”
“I’ll get someone on that. I like this. It works for me.”
Al raised his voice and said, for what seemed like the hundredth time, “Yes, but who killed Ryan Collins?”
CHAPTER
32
After their meeting in Al’s office, Abe Jones returned to his forensics lab and instructed an assistant to drive out to King Wenstarin Farms and obtain a sample of Kelly Polk’s handwriting from her husband, Orlando. Rosco returned to his office and reread his entire Gudgeon file. He then phoned Gudgeon, hoping that he might be able to persuade him to identify Kelly from a lineup once she’d resurfaced in Newcastle. Walt was either not home or not picking up, so Rosco left him a message. If Kelly couldn’t be proven to have killed Jack Curry, and if Gudgeon refused to press charges against her, she’d be free as a bird, although not very welcome in Kentucky. And probably Florida, as well.
Belle made two stops on her way home. The first was to a trendy boutique pet shop where she picked up a small collection of treats for the girls, and the second was to Papyrus. Her curiosity had gotten the better of her, and she wanted to get some answers from Dawn Davis. Dawn had been unwilling to talk to her at first, but after Belle had explained everything they’d discovered about Kelly Polk, she loosened up a great deal. She admitted that someone matching Kelly’s description had stopped by for copy work several months earlier. It was soon after Dawn’s shoulder injury; the discomfort had made work difficult, and she’d been complaining about the fact. Over the next several weeks Kelly had returned with other duplication orders and had always been friendly and sympathetic. In fact, the two women had really hit it off, and during the course of the visits, Dawn had found herself confiding many details of her life—as well as information about her upcoming surgery.
The conversation ended with a slack-jawed Dawn observing, “I guess she just walked in the front door of the hospital and straight out the back, leaving poor Mr. Gudgeon in the dust. It’s amazing I didn’t run into her that day. I felt as though we’d become friends. But it all makes sense now that I know what she was doing . . . I just thought she was being nice, you know, concerned about what I was going through. There’s a laugh.”
As Belle left Papyrus and drove home to Captain’s Walk, she wondered if the Louisville police had found and arrested Kelly yet, and if they had, if they would release her to Massachusetts, or hold her in Kentucky for prosecution. She parked her car at the curb and stepped out. On the porch was a young woman with pale blond hair. She’d removed the mail from the box and was sifting through it as though she hadn’t a care in the world on this pleasant autumn day. To any of the neighbors the person would have looked like Belle; but Newcastle’s crossword sleuth knew differently. So did Kit and Gabby. They were making so much racket they sounded like a pack of dogs instead of only two. And angry ones, at that.
Belle approached the woman and said, “It’s not there, Kelly. Jack mailed it to the Crier. All the squares have been filled in.”
Kelly tossed the letters on a table and turned. Her right hand held a small revolver that was almost entirely concealed by a tan canvas jacket, while the expression on her face was attentive and polite as though she were a new neighbor stopping by for a chat.
“Just like you never checked into the hospital, you never got on the airplane, did you?” Belle continued. “You’re a smart woman, Kelly, if that’s your real name. There’s a warrant out for your arrest in Louisville. And probably also in Florida by now. You’re not going to get away with this, you know.”
Kelly waved the gun. “Open the door. Let’s go inside. I don’t like public places.”
“There are three Doberman pinschers in there. In case you didn’t happen to hear them snarling. They’re trained as attack dogs. They’re big, and they’re dangerous. They’ll rip you apart.” If it weren’t for the gun being pointed at her, Belle would have smiled at this fantasy. Nonetheless she was surprised at how calm she was, given that she was being confronted by a likely murderer. Belle wondered whether it was the fact that Kelly had made herself up to resemble her intended quarry that robbed the scene of its sense of menace. It’s hard to feel threatened by someone whose hairstyle and clothing so flawlessly replicate your own—unless, of course, the mirror image produces anxiety rather than peace of mind.
“Alright,” Kelly said, “out to my car. It’s that Dodge out there. The green one.” She handed Belle the keys. “You’re driving. And don’t try anything stupid, either. I’m in this too deep. I have no problem with killing another person.”
“So you did kill Jack.” It was a statement and not a question.
“No, the Man in the Moon did.” She laughed. “Of course I killed him. He was a double-crossing weasel. Shacking up with Ryan, right under Todd’s nose . . . he had no morals whatsoever. He was a worm looking out for himself.”
Belle refrained from mentioning that murder could be considered immoral, as well. “Ryan was also having an affair with your husband . . . is that why you killed her?”
She laughed again. “Boy, I sure wish I had, I can tell you that much. It’s crazy, but I felt more betrayed by Ryan than by Orlando. But the truth is, I didn’t find out about that junk until after she was dead.”
“You’re going
to have a hard time persuading the police to believe you. They’re convinced that Ryan’s and Jack’s killer are one in the same.” Belle decided to confirm Rosco’s theory by adding, “And since the three of you had been running a confidence game, and you’re the only one left, I’d say the police are on the right track.”
“Go on, get in the car. Enough chat out here in the open.”
Belle walked down the path, crossed the street, and slid in behind the wheel of an aging Dodge, while Kelly tossed the keys at her. She considered starting the engine and making a run for it, but Kelly was in the passenger’s seat as quickly as the thought had entered her mind.
“Where to?” Belle asked.
“I don’t know. I’ve got to think. We’ll just sit here for a bit.”
“Not a good idea . . . Rosco will be home in a minute. Plus the police patrol this block on a regular basis; it’s a tourist attraction.”
“Don’t try to bluff me, honey, you’re no good at it. You’re too honest. Sorry, but that’s the way it is. You’re too easy to read.”
Belle put the keys in the ignition, but didn’t immediately start the car. “If you didn’t kill Ryan, who did? Was it Jack?”
“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? That would make a nice little picture. Three grifters swing into Newcastle and try to take advantage of its fair citizens. But you do-gooders ferret them out and save the day. You’d like to blame this all on the trailer trash of the world, ain’t that right?”
Belle fastened her seat belt, and Kelly glared at her and shook her head. “You people are too much, I swear . . . puts her seat belt on like a real angel. What’s the matter, afraid you’re going to get a ticket? We certainly don’t want to break the law now, do we?”
Belle ignored the dig. “Well, if Jack didn’t kill Ryan, and Orlando was in the hospital, the only people left are the Collins family.”
“What the hell do you think I’ve been talking about, honey? You think because those people are a bunch of blue bloods they don’t get fired up enough to kill someone, is that it? I’ve seen horse people do awful things to their animals in the hopes of winning a blue. Real painful stuff to make them step higher and hold their tails up straight. And they break the legs of prize horses with baseball bats just to collect the insurance money. That’s the truth. Those folks have no control over their emotions or their tempers. They’re cutthroat, and they don’t consider the consequences of their actions. And then when things don’t go their way, they run like rabbits for fear that their names will appear in the newspaper. That’s what makes them such easy marks.”
“So you’re saying that Todd killed Ryan because she was unfaithful with Orlando?”
Kelly shook her head and chuckled. “It’s a dirty little cesspool out there at King Wenstarin Farms. But the old man is the only one with any backbone as far as I’m concerned. Don’t forget he’s already divorced two women. Why wouldn’t he divorce the third? He’d never kill Ryan; it’s not his style. He would have hung her out to dry without a nickel if he’d known what she’d been up to and then smile like the Cheshire Cat as he watched her walk down that long lane and off the farm—wouldn’t even call a cab for her. Oh, yeah, Ryan was killed by a jealous lover, but it sure as hell wasn’t Mr. C.”
“Well, who’s left, besides you?” Kelly only smiled, and Belle added, “Unless . . . Ryan was having an affair with someone else?”
“Like I said—a dirty little cesspool.”
“Palamountain? Chip?”
“Not hardly. Those boys don’t like to live that dangerously. Cross the old man? I doubt it. Guess again.”
“Fiona killed Ryan . . .” Belle said slowly, finding the concept bewildering, but also very plausible. “Because Ryan was . . . she and Jack were . . .”
“Now you’re cookin’, girlie.” Kelly waved her gun at Belle. “Start the car. We’re going to the beach. I was leaving late that night, when I saw Jack slip in. I knew what he was up to. Him and Ryan had been on-again, off-again for years, but I wanted to be certain I had my information straight, so I stuck around till he left. I sat in Mr. C.’s Bentley and watched the whole thing take shape. Ryan came down and saw him out, gave him a big smooch. That’s how I know he didn’t kill her.”
“And then you saw Fiona go in?”
“You got it. I guess she was out lookin’ for him. But she saw that big, fat kiss just as sure as I did.”
“Which beach are we going to?”
“Munnatawket. Drive slow.”
“You don’t need to keep pointing that gun at me, Kelly. I’m not going to try anything.”
“Yeah, right, like I trust you.”
Belle glanced into the rearview mirror and began to maneuver the car out of the parking place. But she hit the brakes when she saw another car coming her way. The driver stopped and waved her on. “Why didn’t you tell the police what you saw?”
Kelly laughed at her. “You really don’t get the life do you? You don’t get the grift. I don’t talk to cops; never have, never will. No matter what. We have our own society; you have yours. If anyone out there hears I talked to a cop, my name’s mud. Besides, I had Fiona right where I wanted her.”
“You were going to blackmail her,” Belle stated.
“Hey, you’re a bright girl,” Kelly said facetiously. “I was sittin’ pretty. We’d all found ourselves a nice comfy home. Ryan had the old man, Jack had half of Fiona, and I had the other half, money-wise, that is.”
“But he found out you were conning Walter Gudgeon.”
“Yeah. He thought I was putting the whole operation at risk. That’s when he got the bright idea to start making those puzzles and set Angel up as being the one on the grift. I didn’t like it; I thought it was real stupid, but he kept sayin’ it was what the ‘smart-set’ liked . . . little games of what person’s got the goods on another. And besides, Angel was easy to waste. She wasn’t family. And Chip would never have stood up to his pop if Todd had told him to dump her.” Kelly shook her head in anger and disbelief. “There I was drawin’ out these damn grids and writing clues, and Jack’s feeding me words that all but shout Kelly, and I don’t see a thing. Not a thing! And it’s not like I trusted the creep, either. Well, he got what he deserved. Both of them did.”
Belle slowed for the stop sign at the corner and glanced again into the rearview mirror. It was obvious that the driver of the car behind her either didn’t see her stop, or didn’t see the sign, or was dialing a cell phone, or was distracted in some manner, but whatever the case, he was going to rear-end her. She pushed her foot firmly down on the brake pedal to avoid being catapulted into the intersection and braced her body as she waited for the impact. Kelly gave her a strange look; it all happened in the blink of an eye.
It wasn’t a light tap; it was a forceful collision. Belle’s seat belt held her in place, but Kelly lurched forward, her forehead colliding with the hard dashboard. She was knocked unconscious immediately and slumped forward in the seat. A small trickle of blood rolled across her face, as Belle straightened her body and took the gun from her lap.
“I can take that pistol if you’d like,” the voice said from outside the car. “I know how to use it.” It was Walter Gudgeon.
“I was coming to your house to apologize for being so hard on your husband,” he said, “and saw her marching you out to the car. That’s the Dawn I knew. That blond hair and outfit didn’t disguise her for a second.”
Belle unhooked her seat belt and stepped from the car. She rolled her head from side to side to loosen her neck and back muscles.
“Sorry about rear-ending you like that. I didn’t know what else to do. I saw you put your seat belt on, so I was hoping it would work.”
“It sure made a mess of your nice car.”
He shrugged. “It’s only a car. I called the police on my cell phone. Do you want to call Rosco?”
“No, he should be on his way home. Thank you, Mr. Gudgeon. It appears as if you saved my life.”
“I g
uess it’s all in how you see it, how you look at life. As I was about to plow into you, do you know what I was thinking?”
“No.”
“I was thinking that this old Dodge is the exact same color green Young Walt wants to paint the fleet of Walt’s Wire Wagons.”
“And . . . ?”
“I’m beginning to think it’s not a half-bad idea.”
Across
1. Grp. for those with 2-Down
4. Fort Worth campus; abbr.
7. Belief
10. Fib
13. Dupe
15. British singer, Chris
16. Coach, Parseghian
17. Horse sense, part 1
20. Talent of 47-Across
21. Some towns
22. Computer key
23. Doctor
26. “___ Rider,” Eastwood film
27. Outlaw, Kelly
28. 63-Across task
31. Swan’s former coworkers?
35. 50 plus grp.
36. Horse sense, part 2
40. Irish nobleman
41. Pirate gallows?
42. Hosp. workers
43. 43-Down locale
46. Mister in Munich
47. Author of horse sense quote
49. Be in charge; abbr.
52. Aiming
55. Tierney role
56. Horse sense, part 3
60. Grassland
61. MMMC ÷ II
62. Gin cocktail
63. Ambulance workers; abbr.
64. Ship’s heading
65. Extra work for 31-Across; abbr.
66. ___ Moines
Down
1. Wide open
2. Sedans and wagons
3. Specific
4. Cash drawer item
5. Gear tooth
6. Spanish article
7. Certain patch
8. Peaceful
9. Potato option
10. Lion portrayer
11. Some savings accts.
12. Comfort