A Puzzle in a Pear Tree Read online

  From the look on Dan Finley’s face, Becky had been torturing him all morning. “No, ma’am. But if I’m gonna deviate from my orders, I’m gonna clear it with the chief.”

  Becky threw up her hands. “Oh, for goodness’ sakes!”

  Sherry Carter, dressed in sweater and jeans and carrying her overcoat, came out the door. “What’s going on?”

  “Great,” Becky said. “Let’s get everybody out here, why don’t we. Get everyone out here, so Dan and I can go in there together. Would you like that, Dan?”

  Dan Finley had his cell phone out, was punching in a number.

  “Calling for backup?” Becky teased.

  “Hi, Chief. It’s Dan. I’m over at the high school, Becky has a costume fitting, no one wants me in the girls’ dressing room, there’s a lot of women not wearing a lot of clothes. Okay to wait outside?” He listened a minute, said, “Thanks, Chief,” snapped the cell phone shut. “He’ll be here in two minutes.”

  Becky’s mouth fell open. “What!?”

  “I’m kidding. You can go on in.”

  Becky shot him a look, then sailed into the dressing room, followed by Cora, Sherry, and Mabel.

  “He’s only doing his job,” Sherry pointed out.

  Cora winced. Her niece needed to learn when to keep her mouth shut.

  “Oh, is that right?” Becky replied witheringly. “You think his job is to protect me from some secret stalker? On the basis of a silly children’s rhyme that has nothing to do with me? I mean, come on, give me a break.”

  Sherry bristled. “The poem was in the pear tree. Who gets the pear tree?”

  “So you think there’s something to it?” Becky scoffed. “As far as everyone else is concerned, that,” she said, pointing in the direction of Dan, “is a useless precaution. But you think the threat is real, and you think it’s aimed at me. What is that—wishful thinking?”

  Sherry smiled sweetly. “Why, Becky Baldwin, whatever do you mean?”

  Becky flushed, realizing she’d gone a little too far. An unspoken rule of their ongoing rivalry was never to openly acknowledge it.

  “I mean,” she answered, recovering beautifully, “that you want the puzzle to mean something so your aunt here can solve it and be the big hero.”

  “Heroine,” Sherry corrected.

  Becky frowned, then shot back archly, “You’re rather preoccupied with sex, aren’t you?”

  “I’m not the one taunting young men in the hallways of the high school.”

  “Not my idea,” Becky retorted. “This wouldn’t have happened if your aunt hadn’t convinced Chief Harper that acrostic poem meant something.”

  “Actually, it was Harvey Beerbaum who solved the acrostic,” Cora pointed out.

  “Who wrote it, then?”

  “Not guilty,” Cora said. “I can quite honestly say I have never written an acrostic in my life.”

  “Is that right?” Becky said. If Becky believed her, Cora wouldn’t have known it.

  Becky tossed her coat on a rack, turned to find Mabel measuring Cora’s skirt. “Where’s my costume?” Becky demanded.

  “Skirt waist let out three and a half inches,” Mabel said. She spied judiciously behind Cora’s back. “Bigger all around.” Over her shoulder to Becky she said, “Coat rack in the back. Dress will have your name on it. Put it on, come find me. Bring the measurement sheet pinned to it.” She turned her attention back to Cora. “Did we do the blouse?”

  “You mean did we make note of the fact I’m not as skinny as an anorexic fashion model? Yes, I believe we did.”

  “Yes, we did,” Mabel said complacently, consulting her measurement sheet. She handed it to Cora. “Hang up your clothes, make sure you pin this sheet to the blouse, and you’re done.”

  “All right, what the hell!” came a voice from the back.

  All heads turned.

  Becky Baldwin came striding up in her bra and panties. Her undergarments were black, lacy, and very sheer. That didn’t surprise Sherry Carter any. Under ordinary circumstances, she might have cast a wouldn’tyou-just-know-it glance at her aunt.

  But these weren’t ordinary circumstances. Becky’s eyes were blazing.

  There was a red envelope in her hand.

  “All right, who did it?” Becky shrilled. “Whoever it was, it isn’t funny.”

  “Where’d you get that?” Cora asked.

  “As if you didn’t know,” Becky said. “It was pinned to my costume.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Oh, sure. I’m really going to kid about a thing like that. You think I brought this with me, just as a joke?”

  “What’s in the envelope?” Cora asked. Her eyes were sparkling.

  “I haven’t looked. But I know what it is. A little puzzle poem, telling me I’m gonna die.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Cora said. “It simply makes no sense.”

  “Don’t look at me,” Becky said. “I didn’t send the damn thing.”

  Becky ripped the envelope open. Inside was a folded piece of paper. Becky took it out, unfolded it. “Well,” she said, “don’t I feel foolish now.”

  “Why? What is it?”

  Becky turned the paper around.

  7

  THERE WAS CHRISTMAS MUSIC IN THE POLICE STATION, bouncy, canned elevator music from a boom box on Dan Finley’s desk. Since the young officer wasn’t there, Chief Harper must have been playing it. At the moment, it was filling the station with the strains of “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen.”

  Cora Felton was neither a gentleman nor was she jolly. She glared at Chief Harper, who was drumming his fingers on his desk in a rhythm nowhere near the beat of the music. Behind him on the wall, a wreath of holly framed a wanted poster. On the table beside him sat a miniature Christmas tree, not unlike the one that had delivered the first acrostic.

  Just like the one in Cora’s hand.

  Cora stole a look at Sherry Carter, seated next to her, then turned back to the chief. “I think you should get Harvey Beerbaum. He solved the first puzzle.”

  Chief Harper was having none of it. “No,” he declared. “ Now. You solve it now. I’m not playing games here. I’m upset. I don’t care if you’re as fast as Harvey, or as accurate as Harvey. I want the damn thing solved. So do it now.”

  Cora shot Sherry a pleading glance.

  “Come on, Cora,” Sherry said. “I wanna know too.”

  Cora, utterly betrayed, gawked at her. “What?” she protested.

  Sherry smiled. “Cora’s embarrassed,” she informed Chief Harper. “Acrostics are confusing, and she always gets mixed up transferring the letters from the clues to the grid. Come on, Cora. I’ll fill in the letters for you. You just tell me what they are.”

  “Is that all?” Cora said.

  Sherry was fishing a pen out of her purse. “Let me have the puzzle. And something to write on.” She took a file folder off Chief Harper’s desk, leaned the puzzle on it, scribbled a few strokes with the pen. “Let’s see if this pen works.”

  “Oh, I gotta do it in ink?” Cora tried to sound like she was joking, not like it really was the last straw.

  “I have infinite confidence in you.” Sherry scrunched her chair next to Cora’s. “Let’s see.”

  Cora, with more chance of winning the state lottery than getting even one answer right, exhaled in helpless frustration. The music, as if to mock her, had moved on to “Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer.”

  Cora mentally shot herself and looked at the puzzle.

  Her eyes widened.

  Sherry, while testing the pen, had managed to fill in one answer. N: Elizabeth’s suitor in ‘Pride and Prejudice’ was Darcy.

  Well, better than nothing, Cora thought, even if it was merely postponing the inevitable.

  “Well,” Cora said, “Right off the bat, the answer to N: Elizabeth’s suitor in ‘Pride and Prejudice’ has to be Darcy.”

  “Good,” Sherry said. “Okay, let me fill that in.”

  After L: Singer John,
Sherry promptly wrote Elton.

  Cora grinned as the realization struck her. Sherry had only written one clue, but that was all she needed. By filling in a new clue every time Cora gave her the answer to the old, she could keep one clue ahead of Cora until the whole puzzle was solved. A simple but brilliantly effective strategy, which Sherry had thought up on the spur of the moment. Cora never ceased to be amazed at Sherry’s linguistic dexterity.

  Cora began filling in words. The elevator music segued into “It Came upon a Midnight Clear.” Cora could almost imagine a halo around her head.

  Within minutes the puzzle had been filled in.

  “Uh-oh,” Sherry said.

  “What is it?” Chief Harper asked.

  “You’re not going to like this, Chief.”

  “I hate it already. What’s it say?”

  Sherry read:

  “Did you get my message?

  It appears that you did not.

  Or is it conceivable

  That you simply forgot?

  “Well, here’s a brief reminder

  To remember what I said.

  I hope it doesn’t come too late

  And you’re already dead!

  “The author is Me Again. The title is Die, Leading Lady, Die.”

  “That does it,” Chief Harper said. “Before, we only suspected the threat was aimed at Becky Baldwin. This confirms it. Die, Leading Lady, Die. And she is the star of the show.”

  Sherry refrained from comment.

  “Yes, she is,” Cora agreed, the very picture of innocent outrage. “And this note was pinned to her costume. If I were you, I’d shut down the play.”

  Chief Harper frowned. “Are you really that bad?”

  “I was thinking of Becky Baldwin’s safety,” Cora replied with all the dignity she could muster.

  Chief Harper nodded. “Then you take this as a genuine threat?”

  “Don’t be silly, Chief. You gotta take any threat as a genuine threat. Because there’s no way to tell. But I don’t know what you’re gonna do about it. Unless you have Dan Finley marry Becky Baldwin.”

  “I can sound him out on the subject.”

  “Yeah. So what’s your scheme here? Short of shutting down the show, which is the only move that would be effective. Death of an Actress. Death of a Leading Lady. Make Becky stop acting, you thwart the killer’s plan.”

  Chief Harper frowned, considered. “I can’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “I still don’t know if this is a threat or a prank. On the one hand, I don’t wanna close the show for a prank. On the other, if this is a genuine threat, will calling off the show really stop it? If there’s a killer out there targeting Becky Baldwin, will canceling the show be effective? Or will it merely tick the killer off? The killer has promised Becky Baldwin’s death. And I would say there is a ninety-nine percent chance the reason he wants Becky Baldwin dead is not because she got the lead in the Christmas play. So if you take away the Christmas play, that reason still remains. It screws up his poetry, big deal. Suppose he writes another poem called death of an ex-actress, and pins it to her body?”

  “So keep Dan Finley on her.”

  “Indefinitely?” Chief Harper shook his head. “You see the problem here. Once the Christmas pageant goes on, it’s over. Presumably, whatever our little poet intends to do will happen before then. You take away the pageant, the whole thing’s open-ended. There’s no telling when the killer might strike. Assuming he ever does.”

  Cora’s eyes were brilliant with excitement and pleasure. “Oh, you sneaky devil. You and your fancy talk.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “That’s why you won’t call off the pageant! You want it to happen. You have no idea who the killer is, and you figure your only way to catch him is if he makes a move on her. That’s why you have Dan Finley on Becky Baldwin. Not to protect her. Becky Baldwin is bait!”

  Chief Harper said nothing.

  “What about opening night?” Cora persisted. “Assuming we get there. You gonna send Dan Finley out onstage with her? In period costume?”

  “I’m sure she’ll be safe enough onstage. And I’m sure she’s safe enough now. I just want to stop this before it goes any further. If it’s kids, I wanna drag them into the principal’s office and let him point out why it isn’t very funny.”

  “Sounds good to me, Chief. Just how do you plan to go about doing that?”

  “Got any suggestions?”

  “Have you traced the first puzzle?”

  “If I had, I’d know where this one came from.”

  “Fair enough. Have you tried to trace the first puzzle?”

  “That I have. As much as possible. According to the computer teacher, it wasn’t done on any of the high school machines.”

  “The high school has a teacher to teach computer.” Cora shook her head. “I am way too old.”

  “So no help there. And I got no grounds to start invading private homes.”

  “Would you have grounds if Becky got bumped off?” At Chief Harper’s look, Cora said meekly, “Just asking.” Suddenly, she scowled in disgust. “Oh, hell!”

  From Dan Finley’s boom box wafted the dulcet strains of “The Twelve Days of Christmas.”

  8

  “IT’S A PIECE OF CAKE,” CHARLIE FERRIC, THE ART TEACHER, declared to the gaggle of actors and actresses assembled in the town hall lobby. There were five Josephs, six Marys, and a couple of dozen shepherds and wise men. Two Josephs, two Marys, four shepherds, and six wise men were in costume. The rest were not.

  Sherry Carter was one of the lucky ones in costume who would pose first and get to leave. Though, actually, luck had nothing to do with it. Cora Felton, who was taking Sherry to the beauty parlor, had come along and twisted Charlie Ferric’s arm.

  The other costumed Mary, clearly a high school girl, was having a grand time pulling the beard off one of the Josephs, who was running his hands over her blue-and-white robes in a most secular manner. This naturally involved a good deal of pinching and tickling and shrieking and giggling.

  “If it’s so easy, why do we have to rehearse?” one of the other Marys protested. She was feisty and argumentative, perhaps due to the fact that Cora’s meddling had aced her out of a costume. Her curly brown hair, sea-green eyes, and dimpled chin made her quite attractive, in spite of her metal braces.

  “We’re not rehearsing, just posing,” Charlie Ferric answered. “It’s easy, but it’s important to get it right. You, for instance, will be posing without your earrings, because the Virgin Mary did not wear earrings. Can you take off your braces?”

  “Well, duh, of course not,” she said saucily.

  This wit prompted gales of laughter from the flirting Joseph and Mary.

  “Then keep your mouth shut,” Charlie Ferric snapped.

  At the young woman’s offended look, he added, “Not now, my dear. When you’re posing. And that goes for the rest of you. No anachronisms. Do you know what that means?”

  “Yeah, no braces,” she shot back, and snuck in a tug at Joseph’s beard. Mary squealed and batted her hands away. The young man, clearly the more popular Joseph, seemed to revel in this.

  Charlie Ferric shook his head. “Let’s ask the expert. Miss Felton, would you mind telling this young lady what an anachronism is?”

  Cora, who knew perfectly well what an anachronism was, but whose mind short-circuited every time she was asked for a definition, had an instant of icy panic. Then her eyes twinkled. She shrugged. “Gee, I was going to say no braces.”

  The kids hooted gleefully.

  Charlie Ferric bore this unexpected sabotage stoically. “It means nothing out of period,” he persisted. “No watches. No eyeglasses or sunglasses. No Walkmans. Believe it or not, we had one last year. The principal came by, noticed one of the shepherds’ heads kept bobbing. The principal, for goodness’ sakes. That’s not gonna happen this year.”

  Charlie Ferric put his hands on his hips, gave them his ste
rn look. Cora Felton suppressed a smile. Charlie was tall, gawky, and plump in the middle. He reminded her of an angry ostrich.

  “How come Dorrie gets a costume and not me?” the girl with braces demanded. “Just because her parents are rich?”

  “Maxine!” the Mary named Dorrie exclaimed indignantly. She wrenched herself free from Joseph’s grip, slipped, and almost fell before he caught her again.

  “Dorrie, you’re such a spaz.” Maxine laughed. “Relax. Lance doesn’t love you for your money, do you, Lance?”

  Lance’s beard made it impossible to tell if the remark bothered him, but he seemed to hug the Virgin Mary a little tighter.

  “Can we get on with it?” the less popular Joseph complained. “My beard itches.” From his whiny voice, Cora recognized him as the nerdy light man from the tech crew.

  “Oh, knock it off, Alfred,” the perky young Mary named Maxine said. “At least you got a costume.” She turned back to poor Mr. Ferric. “And just why do we have to be in costume at all? We already tried it on and we know it fits.”

  “I want you to get used to wearing it. It’s cold out there. You’re going to be out there for an hour. If you’re cold, you’re not wearing enough underneath. Trust me, an hour’s a long time.”

  “Yeah, fine, I promise I’ll dress warm,” Maxine said. “Look, Dorrie’s my ride, and I don’t want her finishing first and running off with Romeo. Let me go out there now, I promise I’ll be good, when we get back I’ll be done. Otherwise, you’ll still have to deal with me, and some people think I’m a bitch.”

  This sally drew appreciative whoops and laughter from not only Marys and Josephs but shepherds and wise men alike. Even grumpy Alfred got a kick out of it, and Cora had to suppress a smile.

  Charlie Ferric caved in with what good grace he could muster, and led the first group, consisting of two fully dressed Nativities, one extra plainclothes Mary, and one amused Puzzle Lady, out the town hall front door and down the steps.