by Nero Blanc
Belle mumbled a response. She was still deep into personal blame mode.
“And your mystery puzzler hasn’t attempted to contact you?”
“No.”
“I wonder who it could be?”
“I imagine someone who lives in the vicinity, because one had no stamp and another had an uncanceled stamp—meaning the envelopes had been hand-delivered.”
“Unless that’s a clever ruse, and only a liaison-type person lives in Newcastle.”
Belle considered the suggestion. “A possibility, I guess … But the crucial point is this: Whoever constructed the crosswords knows all about Alex Gordon, knows that he killed both his wife and his former business partner, as well as the whole sordid situation involving Mike Petri … Our puzzler predicted the fire, tried to reveal Gordon’s change of name, even urged me to go ‘west’ to Taneysville in the first place—and I didn’t see any of it! Even though it’s been sitting right in front of my nose—”
“Belle, dear, it’s not your fault that Rosco—”
“But that’s just it, Sara! If I’d made these connections earlier—”
“But you didn’t, dear. At the risk of oversimplification: There’s no point in crying over spilled milk. Guilt is an unhealthy emotional state, and it won’t help either you or your husband if you’re castigating yourself over circumstances that have passed. And that may well have been unavoidable—prior hypotheses or no.”
Belle had no response to those words of wisdom. Sara had no additional advice to dispense. The two continued in pensive silence for some minutes. “Anonymous …” Sara finally murmured. “A strange choice when so much was at stake …”
“Given what happened to Rosco—and what befell Petri before him—I would imagine possessing incriminating information on Alex Gordon would require anonymity.”
“‘Befell’? An interesting word choice, dear girl … Well, I suppose you’re right …” Sara mused, “but it still seems odd, doesn’t it? A discreet phone call to the police would have served the same purpose if the desired result were to put Gordon behind bars … And then there’s the matter of waiting for fifteen years before coming forward—”
“But the body wasn’t discovered until two weeks ago.”
“The first Mrs. Gordon,” Sara added quietly.
Belle smiled wearily. “Bartholomew’s going to have a field day with this.”
“He’ll need to be careful if he doesn’t want to jeopardize any legal proceedings.” Sara again flicked on her turn signal and changed lanes. Nothing was said until she’d safely guided her aged auto back to the relative serenity of the slow lane. “What other deductions have you made, dear? Do the clues or solutions suggest personality traits? Or whether the constructor is male or female?”
Belle hesitated before speaking. “My only theory is that the person is old. At first I assumed it was a man, but I realize I have nothing to base that on.”
Sara laughed. “And what, may I ask, are you basing ‘old’ upon?”
“The clues don’t strike me as ones a younger generation would be familiar with. Plus”—Belle glanced at Sara sideways, not sure how she would take her next statement—”the hand’s a little too precise … a little fearful of betraying unsteadiness.”
Sara sniffed; her proud jaw jutted higher. “And the crossword you hold in your hand, does it also contain antediluvian references—as well as what you perceive as overcompensation for wobbly, old fingers?”
Belle decided not to take the bait. Instead, she began reading clues and answers. “1-Down: Mr. O’Brien … Solution: PAT. Not the hippest use for PAT … 2-Down: I’VE Got a Secret… a former game show … When did that go off the air? 3-Down: Amusement hall, which is PENNY ARCADE.” She spread the paper across her knees. “18-Across: Theater where there’s no talking? … NICKELODEON … A modern parlance would use Cable TV Network … 29-Down: F. W. Woolworth, e.g.… FIVE AND DIME … Mr. Williams at both 43-Down and 52-Across, the solutions being ANDY and TED respectively rather than the more contemporary Garcia and Danson … Burns & Allen, e.g. at 20-Down … Answer: DUO—”
“I see what you mean,” was Sara’s gentle reply. “So, what’s your theory?” Then she interrupted her own query. “FIVE AND DIME … NICKELODEON … PENNY ARCADE … I agree with your financial references, but also … also …” She paused. “Read me the other puzzle solutions involved with money.”
“QUARTERBACK … COIN A PHRASE.”
“Curious …” Sara mused, “very curious … Something’s piquing my memory, but I’m not certain what it is—”
“Then I’m right in my assessment that the crossword constructor is—?”
“A person of a ‘certain age,’ I believe is the expression you’re searching for, dear child.” With that Sara wheeled her grand old car into the parking lot opposite the hospital’s emergency entrance. “If that darling husband of yours hasn’t been receiving the very best of care …! Well, I hope I don’t lose my temper, that’s all.”
Grunting in pain, his rib cage encircled with tape, his head bandaged, his chin swathed in gauze, Rosco had been gently eased into the backseat of the Cadillac. The pain medication made his voice sound muffled and distant, and his concentration drifted in and out.
The basic components of the story had been supplied by the discharge nurse. They’d involved Constable Lonnie Tucker, an ambulance, a witness, and a man taken into police custody. “Folks are saying it’s the new owner up to Quigleys’ they’ve arrested,” the nurse had added before dispensing information Belle felt to be more immediately significant: Rosco’s two broken ribs were “gonna make him feel like one sore puppy for a couple of days.” But after all was said and done, that he’d be “right as rain.” Belle had liked the assessment far better than the prior “experiencing some discomfort.”
On the way home, with Rosco dozing in the rear seat, Belle let out a little yelp of impatience. “My car … It’s still at the Quigley—”
“Tomorrow’s another day, Belle … Unless you want me to turn around and—”
“No, you’re right. The only thing that matters right now is to get Rosco home and into bed.”
“He’s lucky he didn’t sustain other—”
“He’s lucky to be alive, Sara.”
Neither woman spoke for a long while. Finally Sara broke the silence. “It’s a shame you can’t actually thank your mystery puzzler, and explain that Gordon’s going to pay for his crimes—that it’s safe to come forward.”
“I’m sure TV cameras have been covering the situation, Sara … in depth.”
“Still—”
“You’re right. It would be nice to say thanks in person.”
“Precisely.” Sara fell silent again. “An old person,” she murmured, “an old person … What were those solutions again, Belle?”
Belle reached for the crossword. “PENNY ARCADE, NICKELODEON, FIVE AND DIME—”
“Hmmm, I don’t know. There’s a little bug in the back of my brain that tells me those phrases have another connection entirely.”
“Uh-oh,” Rosco said dreamily from his pillowed nest in the rear seat, “sounds like Sara has a bee in her bonnet.”
CHAPTER 36
“It’s not her,” the raspy voice on the other end of the phone stated. The tone was halfway between brusqueness and exasperation.
Rosco sucked in his breath in order to respond but winced as a new pain shot through his chest. When the torture subsided he squeaked out, “What do you mean, Al? Who else could it be? It’s got to be Gordon’s first wife.”
“No way, buddy. Your theory was close—so close, even the Russian thought it was numero uno—but the thing didn’t go down the way you figured.”
“Walk me through this, Al.”
“Tanner sent a crew into Petri’s apartment. Thanks to my arm-twisting, I might mention … On one point you were right on the money: Gordon’s prints are all over the place. There’s no doubt in anyone’s mind that he tossed Petri from the terrace �
� But Gordon never found what he was looking for.”
“And that is …?”
“A safe-deposit box key. One of Tanner’s boys picked it up with a metal detector. It was in the freezer, buried in a pint of Häagen-Dazs ice cream—Rum Raisin. Mike Petri may have had a weakness for cheap vodka, but he drew the line at cheap ice cream.”
“I’m still not with you. What was in the safe-deposit box?”
“Petri’s insurance policy, so to speak … a nice little case history of his relationship with one Alex Gordon of Far Yukon Industries—dating back over fifteen years. Obviously, it was the only way Petri could keep Gordon from killing him.”
“It doesn’t sound like the plan worked any too well.”
“Well, it did for fifteen years … What we’re now piecing together is that Mike decided it was time to check out—as in permanently. Maybe he’d reached the end of his rope emotion-wise; maybe a doctor hadn’t given him a clean bill of health … Whatever the situation, as near as we can guess, Petri got himself liquored up, phoned Gordon, and handed him the wrong safe-deposit box key, which sent his sometime boss on a wild-goose chase—and then into a nasty rage … Basically, Petri knew he was committing suicide, but—and here’s the big but; he had a legit life insurance policy from Mass Casualty. For one million smacks … Of course the sticker with these policies is: they don’t pay off if you do the deed yourself.”
“A million dollars …”
“That’s what I said, Poly—crates. You and me definitely got into the wrong business.”
“Who was the beneficiary?”
“The Franklin Park Zoo—damn near across the street from Far Yukon Industries.”
“You’re kidding!”
“Nope.”
Another sharp pain shot through Rosco’s ribs; he groaned into the phone.
“Do you want me to explain all this to Belle?” Lever asked. “Sounds like you’re having a rough time of it.”
“No, I’m okay … So, why does Petri phone me in the first place? Then leave a message stating he’s going to call back—when he knows he won’t be alive?”
“I figure it’s all part of the setup. He’s got to get someone to prove he didn’t kill himself or that policy doesn’t pay off. With his reputation, he knew he couldn’t count on Tanner—or anyone else in Boston PD for that matter—so he gets you involved. Mr. Insurance Investigator himself.”
“And I take it this ‘case history’ of Petri’s maintains the body in Taneysville isn’t the first Mrs. Gordon.”
“In a way, yes … See, Petri did kill the business partner and Wife Number One fifteen years ago—on orders from Gordon—but he buried the bodies in a field off Route 24 near Lake Nippenicket. The location’s very specific in his letter. Abe Jones and the Boston ME made a positive I.D. on both of them a little over an hour ago.”
“That was quick—even for Abe.”
“Petri buried them with their driver’s licenses sealed in plastic zip-lock bags. He was very thorough, even clean, you might say. Too bad he didn’t stay on the right side of the law.”
“But I’m not making the Taneysville connection,” Rosco said, coughing slightly and following up with another pained groan. “If Gordon had no idea where the bodies were buried, then he bought that Quigley property as a legitimate second home … My question is: How could Petri possibly have convinced him it was the same place he’d buried the bodies fifteen years ago? No one would ever swallow a coincidence like that.”
Rosco could hear Lever lighting a cigarette on the other end.
“Al, it hurts my lungs just listening to you do that.”
“Tough.” Lever inhaled deeply. “It’s my office. I run it my way.” He sucked in additional smoke and continued. “Gordon said that Petri had told him he’d dumped the body on the Quigley site, i.e., Mike moved it after Gordon purchased the land … Apparently, that little conversation occurred right after the press released the story about mystery remains being unearthed … The idea was that if Gordon didn’t make a major payoff, Petri would ensure that the business partner’s corpse would also arrive in Taneysville … Don’t forget Gordon didn’t have any of Jones’s findings, so he believed everything Mike told him.”
“I gather Gordon’s talking up a storm. Surprise, surprise.”
“He’s trying to cut a deal. We’ll see about that.”
Rosco nodded, winced, and coughed. “So Wife Number Three really did want to move the addition to the north side of the site after all?”
“You got it … You know, it’s amazing …”
There was a long pause, so Rosco said, “What? What’s amazing?”
“Petri. He orchestrated this whole show. Did it all from the grave, so to speak. He set up Gordon like a kingpin and bowled him right over. Sort of his way of making it right in the end.”
“He set me up pretty well, too.”
“That he did, my friend.”
“And I’m right back where I started—except for the two broken ribs and no more Jeep. At least I have something to show for my efforts.”
Lever laughed. “Ribs heal.”
“Thank you for that piece of wisdom, O Great Philosopher of the Twenty-first Century.”
“I see where your buddy Tree Hoffmeyer is sinking like a stone in the polls. It’s remarkable how fast a lead like his can evaporate. Just shows-to-go-ya what a little adverse publicity can do. Too bad, I would’ve liked to have seen a change down in D.C.”
“We still have a few days.”
“Right. Don’t hold your breath.” Lever laughed again. “The eternal optimist … Keep me posted.”
Rosco hung up the phone, then walked to Belle’s home office, eased himself into a chair, and related what Lever had told him. She listened in silence then walked to his side.
“How do your ribs feel?” She kissed him on the cheek—lightly.
“Hey, we can do better than that,” was his mock-wounded response. “Actually the ribs feel a heck of a lot better than they did. It’s amazing what a couple of days can do.” Then almost to himself he added, “Where do we go from here?”
“I’m wondering the same thing … Right now, we’re back at square one, except for one thing—we have four crosswords. And an anonymous constructor who—” Belle was interrupted by the sound of Kit’s frantic barking. “Rosco, I think you and your dog need a little training session.”
He smiled. “How come every time she makes a racket, digs in the garden, or chews something beyond recognition, she’s my dog? But then she … You’re right. Time for a serious conversation with dad. Bring on the choke collar, the stern commands. Tough love’s my middle name.”
“I must have overlooked that part of your personality.” Belle laughed, walked to the living room, knelt down, gave Kit a loving and lengthy pat, then retrieved the mail from the box on the porch. When she returned to the office, she found Rosco spreading the four crosswords on her desk, and grunting with the effort.
“Don’t you think you should stay put and let the pros have at it?”
“Uh-huh …” he mumbled absentmindedly. “… Okay, here’s puzzle number one, two, three, and four—”
Belle placed an opened envelope beside him and said, “And let’s not forget number five.”
READ BETWEEN THE LINES
Across
1. L × L
4. Heave
8. Come together
12. Air; comb. form
14. Raves’ partner
16. Entreaty
17. 1989 Robert Downey film
19. That girl’s
20. Essential oil
21. Congregation
23. ___-wit
24. Had been
25. Film in which Ronald Colman won an Oscar
29. Love letter letters
30. Serf
31. “___boy!”
34. Butt
36. Certain cat
40. Classic Hitchcock film
44. Theme
45. Before
46. And the rest
47. Veni-vici link
50. ___-back
52. Gaynor, Garland or Streisand vehicle
56. “None___the Brave”
59. ___Hagen
60. An Adams
61. Nose; comb. form
63. Guided by truth
65. Classic Grant/Lombard film
68. “Do___to others …”
69. Friendlier
70. Comic strip dog
71. Dance maneuver
72. Not this
73. EST part
Down
1. Certain parrot
2. Zubin___
3. “Darn!”
4. Tuscan three
5. Org. formed in 1948
6. Glitch
7. Flash
8. Dashboard info
9. 1985 Peter Yates film
10. Letter tip?
11. Waste maker
13. “I’m___roll”
15. Hawks
18. Things can get stuck in it
22. Tooth; comb. form
26. Kashmiri tongue
27. “Fine”
28. Rented
29. Spit
31. PIN spot?
32. Notwithstanding
33. Asian holiday
35. MLB award
37. Common preservative
38. ___Lillie
39. Fashion inits.
41. 57-Down’s opposite
42. ___Guthrie
43. Close
48. Killed
49. Makes the final cut
51. In the matter of
52. Prime rib topper
53. Trick
54. Panache
55. Winner of 35-Down in ’70 & ’72
56. Ties
57. Like a cold oven
58. Played with
62. ___-ha
62. “___Hat”
66. Stage union; abbr.
67. “Rocky III” opponent
To download a PDF of this puzzle, please visit openroadmedia.com/nero-blanc-crosswords