by Parnell Hall
“That’s the only thing that makes sense. But I have a big problem with it.”
“What?”
“Why him? If his only concern is publicity, why does he protect himself? He’s not famous. No one knows who he is. If he’s doing it for the publicity, why doesn’t he hire bodyguards for Steve and Angela?”
Crowley frowned. “You have a point. Does that mean he’s not doing it for the publicity?”
“By that logic he’s not.”
“Then why does he do it?”
“Exactly.”
“He must really be afraid.”
“Why?”
“How should I know?” Crowley cried in exasperation. “I didn’t know when you started this, and I don’t know now.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Then why do you think he is? By your own logic, it makes no sense that he’s doing it for the publicity. You got any other theories?”
“Absolutely. You have to understand none of these make sense, they’re just an attempt to clarify my thoughts.”
“By totally confusing mine,” Crowley said. “Of course. Go right ahead.”
“We have three killings. By that I mean the two gofers and Fred. I’m not counting the boyfriend, killed out of necessity because his girlfriend was dead.”
“And you reached that conclusion because?”
“It simplifies my thinking.”
“Of course. I wish we could do that in the department. Ignore this fourth homicide, because it doesn’t fit with our theories.”
“Don’t knock it till you try it, Sergeant. Anyway, we take the three crimes. The first gofer girl is murdered. Then the actor, Fred Roberts. Then the second gofer girl. Bookends, as it were, around the central crime. With me so far?”
“I suppose.”
“You shouldn’t be. Where do I get off calling Fred the central crime? Except for the fact that he’s an actor, so he’s more important. For Fred to be central his murder would have to have been planned when the first girl was killed. I’m not sure he was even on the picture.”
“We can check that.”
“Good, because it would be nice to have something check out. Even something minor.”
“If the murders are related, what’s the link?”
“If I knew that, I could solve the crime. Which is encouraging. All we have to do is find it.”
“What link could there possibly be?”
“I have a link. It’s a slender thread, but it’s a starting place.”
“What is it?”
“Fred said Betsy helped him get the audition. There was something in the way he said it, like he was bragging about a conquest.”
“What gave you that impression?”
“Oh, my God, Crowley. Men have so many tells. For instance, I know whether you made up with Stephanie or not. You didn’t. And, no, I haven’t talked to her since she was on the set.”
“So, you could tell about Fred,” Crowley said, not so subtly changing the subject.
“That’s right. He said the script supervisor helped him. And one of the gofer girls too. That’s what you were looking for, a link between two victims.”
“What about the other girl? Are you claiming Fred was involved with her too?”
“Well, certainly not after he was dead.”
“That’s nonsense,” Crowley said. “The link was the killing of Fred. The gofer girl—the second one—was a witness. She was the most important witness. We missed it because she lied. And we never suspected. Well, actually we suspected she lied. But we suspected it for the wrong reasons. We thought she was trying to cover up her own negligence. Watching the trailer was her responsibility. She didn’t do it, and the killer got in. It didn’t occur to me she saw the killer and knew who he was.”
“You think that happened?”
“Absolutely. The killer shows up to see Fred. She says Fred can’t be disturbed. The killer pushes her out of the way, goes on in, kills Fred, comes out, says tell anyone and you’re dead. That would account for the quivering bundle of nerves we’ve been dealing with ever since.”
“Well, when you put it that way, Sergeant.”
“You agree with me?”
“No, but it sounds good when you put it that way.”
“Well, what do you think happened?”
“I have no idea. But agreeing to a hastily thought up scenario isn’t going to help anything.”
“I think I’m right.”
“I’m sure you do. Tell me, how many crimes have you solved by jumping to conclusions?”
Crowley cocked his head. “Are you just doing this to me because you’re pissed off about Stephanie?”
“Who said anything about Stephanie?”
“You’re a woman. You don’t have to.”
Cora’s mouth fell open. “Did I just hear an incredibly sexist statement fall from your lips, Sergeant?”
“Oh, God, I hope so,” Crowley said. “I feel like I’m trapped in PC hell, where you can pummel me all you like and I don’t dare fight back.”
“Okay, I’ll stop pummeling you. I’ll even offer a reason the director hired a bodyguard.”
“What?”
“Publicity.”
“I thought you ruled out publicity because it was stupid to protect himself instead of the stars.”
“Yes,” Cora said. “So here’s a reason why it isn’t stupid. He can’t put a bodyguard on Angela because she wouldn’t put up with it. He can’t put a bodyguard on Steve because that would be even stupider, protecting the supporting character instead of the star. So he puts a bodyguard on himself, which he can justify because a light almost fell on his head. Not the best of all possible worlds, but the only play he’s got.”
“And the attempt on his life?”
“Three possibilities. One, it was an attempt on his life. Two, it was an accident. Three, he knocked it over himself as part of a publicity stunt.”
“What are you leaning toward?”
“Well, if you buy my convoluted explanation for why he’d choose himself for publicity, I go with publicity stunt. I like it because it’s just so Hollywood crass, exploiting a tragedy for financial gain.”
“If that’s true, it takes the whole light falling incident out of the equation.”
“Not at all. In fact, it ties it to the first crime.”
“How the hell do you figure that?”
“Publicity stunt. The first gofer girl being killed was a publicity stunt.”
“Now you’re being absurd.”
“Oh, really? Think back on it. The first gofer girl is killed, and I want nothing to do with it. It’s a distraction while we’re making my movie. You couldn’t get me interested at all until the boyfriend was killed too and you dragged me up to his apartment.”
“So?”
“It’s why they hired me to begin with. Which pissed me off when I realized it. They wanted the publicity of the Puzzle Lady working on the Puzzle Lady movie. When the first gofer girl got killed, the director kept trying to push me into investigating it. I wouldn’t do it, but that’s what he wanted. At the time I thought he just wanted me to clear up the crime so it wouldn’t get in the way of his filming. Now I’m thinking, what if that’s all it was, just a publicity stunt?”
“He killed the girl to publicize the movie?”
“Yes, just like he pretended to drop a light on his head and hired a bodyguard to hype the movie.”
Crowley looked at her. “Oh, my God. And you’re accusing me of jumping to conclusions with a hastily thought up scenario.”
“This is not hastily thought up, Crowley. Since this happened, I’ve hardly been thinking of anything else.”
“Want me to punch holes in that theory?”
“Be my guest.”
“If they were doing it for publicity, that’s hardly how they’d to it. A production assistant killed backstage in a theater after a Puzzle Lady audition? That’s no publicity at all. What did it get, a couple of lines in the
back of the paper? If it was meant to publicize a Puzzle Lady movie, it would have a crossword puzzle found on the body. And there wasn’t any crossword puzzle.”
Cora’s eyes widened. “Oh, my God.”
“What?”
“There was.”
68
Stephanie looked shocked when Cora dragged Sergeant Crowley into her tapestry shop on Bleecker. “What do you think you’re doing now?” she said irritably.
“Oh good, you don’t have a customer,” Cora said.
“It is not good when I don’t have a customer,” Stephanie said. “It is also not good when you drag my boyfriend though the door hoping to referee a reconciliation.”
“That not what’s happening,” Cora said. “We need your help with a murder.”
“Well, that’s just pathetic. You need my help with a murder. Of all the flimsy excuses.”
“Cora misspoke,” Crowley said. “She needs your help with a crossword puzzle.”
Stephanie’s mouth fell open. “You have got to be kidding.”
Cora shook her head. “I never got it solved because I didn’t think it meant anything.”
Stephanie looked at the crumpled piece of paper Cora pulled from her drawstring purse. “How long have you been carrying that around?”
“Quite a while. Before we started shooting. Before the auditions, actually. Even before I came on the picture.”
“You’ve lost me,” Stephanie said. “It was bad when you came in the door, and it’s getting worse. Why are you bringing this to me? I mean the crossword puzzle, not the aging, out of shape cop.”
“Because Sherry’s in Bakerhaven.”
“What?”
“I can’t do crossword puzzles. You know it. He knows it. Not many other people. Sherry does all the puzzles for me. She’s not here. You may not be in Sherry’s league, but you can solve puzzles. We need it solved.”
“I don’t know how I can refuse a request so flatteringly put.”
“All right, find a pencil and give it a go. Shall I put a closed sign on the door?”
“If you want me to break your arm. I’m willing to help, but I’m still running a business.”
“See, Crowley, she looks like a peace-love hippie, but she’s still got a keen mercenary mind.”
“You want to go out on your ear?” Stephanie said, but she couldn’t help smiling. Despite the rivalry, she and Cora got a kick out of each other.
Stephanie whizzed through the puzzle. At least, in Cora’s estimation. By Cora’s standards, anyone finishing a puzzle was a whiz. Sherry could have done half a dozen in that time.
“Okay, here you go.”
“What’s it say?”
“WITH A SONG
IN MY HEART
LET ME TEAR
LOVE APART.”
“Oh, my God, it fits perfectly,” Crowley said.
Cora reacted as if stung by a bee. “What fits perfectly?”
“It’s a crime of passion. The boyfriend did it.”
“If the boyfriend did it, the crossword is meaningless.”
“How do you figure?”
“Oh, for God’s sakes. This thing’s got you so tied up in knots—well, something’s got you so tied up in knots—you’re just not thinking straight. If the boyfriend did it, then the puzzle has nothing to do with anything because the boyfriend is dead. And the boyfriend didn’t do it. He was killed with a poker.”
“You want to let me in on your logic?” Stephanie said.
“We’re assuming the crossword is a potential publicity stunt,” Crowley explained.
“That doesn’t help.”
“Don’t blame him,” Cora said. “He hasn’t been himself lately. Quick version. The puzzle was found by the screenwriter way back before we even started auditioning. We’re assuming it was meant to be found on the body of the first girl as a publicity stunt.”
Stephanie stared at her. “And you claim he’s not making any sense.”
“I said it was the short version. There were a lot of reasons we thought that. But just because we did, doesn’t mean it is. If it means something else we’ve got to live with it.”
“What else could it mean?”
“I have no idea. Five minutes ago I didn’t know what it says. I only know what it isn’t. It isn’t telling me the boyfriend did it, because that defies logic.”
“Since when was defying logic a reason for you to reject a premise?”
“Fair enough. But this is too much, even for my convoluted way of thinking. I cannot twist the facts into any version that doesn’t give me a migraine.”
“I’m sorry I gave you a headache,” Stephanie said.
“I’m sorry I brought you one.”
“Now I know what it’s like to be picked on by two women at the same time,” Crowley said.
“Isn’t that every man’s dream?”
Crowley looked from one to the other.
“Not happening,” Stephanie said. “Anything else I can do for you?”
“Do you have something in red cashmere for drapes?”
69
cora lay in bed trying to sleep. Instead she kept picking up the crossword and looking at it. It was infuriating. It had to mean something and it didn’t.
WITH A SONG
IN MY HEART
LET ME TEAR
LOVE APART
All she could think of was Cupid with a bow and arrow, shooting through the heart of a young lover. But there was no bow, no arrow, no Cupid. The girl was hit over the head. And the puzzle wasn’t found with the girl. It was found, yes, but days before the girl was killed.
She told herself she was being stupid. Just because she was the Puzzle Lady didn’t mean everything related to her. There could exist a crossword puzzle that had nothing to do with her. And there could exist a crossword puzzle that had nothing to do with the murder.
But it had to have something to do with something. It was not credible that a crossword happened to appear under the screenwriter’s nose right before her meeting with the director. It defied logic, and while everything about the case seemed to defy logic, that didn’t mean there was no explanation. If only she could think of one.
Cora picked up the crossword and stared at it again. It looked the same way it did the time before.
Cora didn’t want to admit it, but she was actually more upset about Crowley staying behind with Stephanie than she was about not being able to solve the crime. Which was stupid, because she’d done everything in her power to get them together. But when it was time to leave, Crowley had hemmed and hawed, and said something dumb like why don’t you go on ahead, in an adorably obvious way, and Cora had wanted to strangle him. Why should he find happiness at her expense, just because she’d pushed him into it?
Maybe at least he’d start thinking straight and solve the damn crime. She certainly wasn’t going to, because she wasn’t thinking straight. And it was no fair blaming Crowley for it. She wasn’t thinking straight anyway.
Damn it, she had to think.
Could the crossword puzzle mean something that didn’t have anything to do with the gofer girl and her boyfriend? What other lovers were there? Angela and Steve? Had they plotted this from the beginning? And had someone suspected what they were plotting and woven it into a crossword in case they actually went through with it? Could it be woven by the victim? Fred, for God’s sakes. Telling people his death wasn’t accidental, and asking them to avenge him? The mind boggled.
Were there any other lovers? Who could they possibly be?
Cora sat straight up in bed.
Thelma Blevins!
Cora had completely forgotten about Thelma Blevins. She’d all but dropped out of sight, on account of being Present Day Cora and the fact they were shooting all the period piece scenes first to accommodate Angela Broadbent. Thelma Blevins was only on the set the day in Bakerhaven when they were tap-dancing around losing Fred.
Had she been back since? Cora couldn’t remember seeing her. She’
d slept with the director to get on the movie. Cora remembered having that impression, and it was probably true. That would make her a major player. Could she have been on the set without being seen? Could she have been stashed somewhere near the set in a love nest for Sandy to sneak off to? Could she—
Cora snorted angrily. No, she could not. Thelma Blevins wasn’t around because she wasn’t around. She had no connection with Fred whatsoever. She slept with Sandy to get the part because that was the way of Hollywood. There was no reason to make anything more of it. The only reason Cora had for possibly thinking her guilty was the fact she didn’t like the way Thelma was making herself up like an old biddy for the part, and the fact she was playing Present Day Cora, which everyone and his brother knew was actually Old Cora. No wonder Cora hadn’t thought of her. Ever since she found out what her character was really called she’d been doing her best not to think of her.
And what the hell did Thelma Blevins have to do with a crossword puzzle?
No, the crossword puzzle was meaningless. She should treat it as meaningless. She should put the crossword puzzle aside and solve the crime on the facts, not on the basis of some arbitrary bit of evidence thrust upon her.
That depressed her even further. It was only an hour since Stephanie had solved the crossword puzzle. Up until that time she had been treating the crime exactly as if there was no crossword puzzle. And what good had that done? She’d been at it for days with no avail.
She needed help.
70
Becky Baldwin pulled up to the Country Kitchen, parked her car, and went in.
Cora, who had given up drinking, was sitting at a booth in the bar sipping a Diet Coke.
Becky asked the bartender for a scotch on the rocks, and slid into the booth across from her.
“What’s so damn important you had to drag me out here at midnight?”
“I need your fine legal mind.”
“Really? Usually you want to tell me the law is stupid and ask me how to get around it.”
“Well, that too.”
“Cora.”
Cora slid the crossword across the table. “Look at this.”
Becky picked it up and read it.
WITH A SONG
IN MY HEART