Arsenic and Old Puzzles Page 5

  Barney stopped in midstride, wheeled on Cora. “Do you really give a damn what I wear?”

  He turned, stomped into the living room.

  “Well,” Cora said. “Look who got up on the wrong side of the bed.”

  “Four in the morning either side is the wrong side,” Sam said.

  “You gonna photograph the body once it’s out of the window seat?”

  “No, but I should photograph the seat.”

  “Why?”

  “So no one can say I didn’t,” Sam grumbled, and stomped off after the doctor.

  Cora followed Sam into the living room.

  Barney Nathan was stooped indecorously over the window seat. He stood up, said, “He’s dead,” and brushed off the knees of his pants.

  “Any idea when?” Harper said.

  The doctor shot a glance at Cora. “Very recent,” he said.

  “The sisters were awakened by the sound of someone breaking in around three A.M. Anything inconsistent with that was him and he crawled into the window seat and died?”

  “It’s a stupid thing to do,” Barney said.

  “I meant medically.”

  “I know what you meant. He could have done that.”

  “What about the cause of death?”

  “What about it?”

  “You think he was poisoned?”

  “I won’t know till I do the autopsy.”

  “Any smell of almonds?”

  Barney Nathan stiffened. He turned back, bent over the body, stood up. “Yes, there is.”

  “So it could be the same guy.”

  “Or girl,” Cora said.

  The Guilford sisters, relegated to the parlor, were losing their patience. After all, it was their house, and something exciting was going on.

  Edith stuck her head in the door. “Excuse me, Chief, but the guests are awake, and we don’t know what to tell them.”

  “The guests?” Chief Harper said.

  “Yes,” Charlotte said. “A nice young couple checked in yesterday. And a widower who might become a lodger. But no one’s going to want to stay in a place where people keep dropping dead.”

  “Now, that’s a fine way to describe it,” Edith said. “I hope you don’t talk that way in front of the guests.”

  “Of course not. Chief Harper’s family.” Charlotte smiled. “We do think kindly of you, even if you do keep bringing murders.”

  That seemed a rather unfair assessment of the chief’s actions.

  “Where are the guests?” Harper said.

  “In the foyer. We told them they couldn’t come in and they’re not happy.”

  “And you’d like them to be not happy at me instead of at you. Well, I suppose it’s only fair.”

  “I’ll give you moral support, Chief.”

  Harper followed the sisters out in the foyer with Cora tagging along.

  The couple, who appeared to be in their thirties, wore pajamas and robes. Cora wondered if they were married.

  The widower was a frail thing, somewhere on the north side of sixty. He was, to Cora’s amusement, dressed in a suit and tie. She wondered whether he slept in it, or simply put it on to come downstairs. She wasn’t sure which was more pathetic.

  “Sorry to disturb your sleep,” Harper said. “You people are guests here?”

  The woman was indignant. “Yes. What’s going on? All this commotion, and they won’t let us go see.”

  “I’m the one who won’t let you see. There’s been a break-in, and the perpetrator is dead.”

  “They killed him!” the widower said.

  “I strongly doubt it. The intruder was a drunk who crawled into the window seat and died. It’s a suspicious death, so we have to treat it as a crime scene, but, trust me, no one suspects your hosts of having helped the man along.”

  The widower gasped at the suggestion.

  “Well, I don’t know how you expect us to sleep with this going on. We should check out and go to a motel.”

  “No, you shouldn’t,” Chief Harper said. “This is a potential crime scene. You don’t leave a crime scene until you’ve been cleared by the police.”

  The woman was belligerent. “Why not?”

  “If it turns out this is a crime scene, we’ll have to take your statements.”

  “Why?” the man said. “We didn’t see anything.”

  “Wait a minute,” the woman said. “We have to make a formal statement, give our names? Why do we have to do that?”

  “I don’t think you do,” Harper said. “Unless you want to check out. If you’re checking out now, I’ll need to see some identification and take down your permanent address. If you’re hanging around, I’ll talk to you if I need you.”

  The woman immediately reversed field. “No, no. That won’t be necessary. We’re staying here.”

  The EMS team went by with a gurney. The dead man was covered with a sheet; still it had a chilling effect.

  “All right,” Harper said. “The show’s over. So, why don’t you go back to your rooms. There’s nothing more to see.”

  Harper waited while the guests, chastened, slunk back upstairs.

  “All right, ladies,” Harper said. “Assuming Ned hadn’t crawled into the window seat and died, what would he have found to steal?”

  “Nothing,” Edith said.

  “There’s the brass candlesticks,” Charlotte said.

  “Oh, who cares about the brass candlesticks.”

  “Well, I like them, and they’ve been in the family.”

  “Been in the family. Now there’s an expression. They belonged to Uncle Edward, who was as nutty as a jaybird.”

  “Are the candlesticks valuable?” Harper said.

  “Not in the least,” Edith said. “They appear to have sentimental value for Charlotte, but you couldn’t get a dime for them.”

  “What about the grandfather clock?” Charlotte said.

  “A little hard to carry, even for someone sober,” Chief Harper observed.

  “Yes, of course. That’s not what he means, Charlotte. He means, do we have any money or jewelry?”

  “Do you?”

  “Certainly not,” Charlotte said.

  Harper could have assumed that. The bed-and-breakfast, though neat and tidy, had not been painted in years, and probably could use a new roof. The sisters, by reputation, were frugal to a fault, with the exception of the afternoon tea.

  “There’s no money in the house?”

  “Of course not,” Edith said. “It’s in the bank.”

  “You have money in the bank?”

  “Doesn’t everyone? We have a checking account and a savings account.”

  “And a safety deposit box,” Charlotte added.

  “You have a safety deposit box?” Harper said.

  “For the jewelry,” Edith explained. “We certainly don’t keep jewelry around the house. Anyone could break in. Not that we blame the police department. But you see.”

  “You have expensive jewelry?”

  “Just a little costume jewelry. For dress up. But we feel safer if it’s not in the house.”

  “Does anyone know you have a safety deposit box?”

  “Well, you do now. I’d prefer you didn’t tell. Then people will think we’re rich.”

  “What about your nephew. Does he know?”

  “Of course. But he’s family.”

  “I see.”

  Cora followed Chief Harper back to the living room.

  “Well, that seemed promising for a while,” Harper said.

  “Yes. Very promising. I thought you were onto something. A drunk climbs through the sisters’ window, hoping to poison them and steal the key to their safety deposit box. Unlucky for him, he can’t resist sipping the poisoned rotgut and winds up in the window seat.”

  “Sarcasm? At four in the morning? Isn’t that a little harsh?”

  “Murder is a little harsh. If Ned turns out to be poisoned, it would appear you have a serial killer who targets elderly men associated
with the Guilford house. If I were that lodger, I’d make a statement right now and check out just as fast as I could call a cab.”

  “There’s no cabs in Bakerhaven.”

  “Then I’d walk. Seriously, Chief, do you have the faintest idea what’s going on here?”

  “Do you?”

  “Not at all. But then, I’m not the chief of police. Did Barney Nathan really miss the smell of almonds?”

  “No, he got it.”

  “After a little prompting. And his tie wasn’t tied. What’s that all about?”

  “It’s four in the morning, Cora.”

  “And did you hear the way he snapped at me? No, I guess it was Sam who was with me then. Anyway, he was downright rude.”

  “Well, if you’re going to accuse a man of incompetence…”

  “I never said he was incompetent. I said he was careless and made a lot of mistakes.”

  “That’s sure to win his heart.”

  “Yeah.” Cora took a look around. “Well, it would appear my work here is done.”

  “What?”

  “Well, I solved your break-in. What more do you want?”

  “There is the sudoku.”

  “Which I will be perfectly happy to solve. But I don’t know what you expect it to tell you.”

  Sam Brogan came in carrying a plastic evidence bag. “You’re not going to like this, Chief.”

  “That’s not surprising. I haven’t liked anything so far.”

  “I found this in the bush outside. Just a piece of garbage. I nearly threw it away.”

  “You handled it?” Cora said.

  “Just an old newspaper. Old, faded, discolored junk. Just the type of thing you keep from cluttering up your crime scene.”

  “So?” Harper said.

  “So, I turned it over, and, here, take a look.”

  Sam held up the evidence bag with the newspaper.

  It was open to the crossword puzzle.

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  13

  “You couldn’t have just thrown it away,” Cora muttered, disgustedly.

  “Of course not. It’s evidence.”

  “Evidence of what?”

  “How should I know?” Sam said. “I’m just the dumb cop who finds the clues. You’re the Puzzle Lady who figures them out.”

  “A puzzle in a newspaper,” Cora said. “How can it possibly mean anything? I mean, look at this.” She pointed to the top of the page. “This is the Hartford paper from September 17th, 2005.”

  “Yes, it is,” Chief Harper said. “You will notice this happens to be one of your crossword puzzles.”

  There was no denying that. Cora’s smiling face adorned the column.

  “So what?” Cora said. “You wanna tell me what a crossword puzzle of mine from 2005 has to do with a drunk who got poisoned now.”

  “I have no idea. We’ll know more after you solve the puzzle.”

  “I’m not solving the puzzle.”

  “Why not?”

  “For one thing, it’s already been solved. See those pencil marks? It’s been solved and then erased.”

  “Why would anyone do that?”

  “I have no idea, but they did.”

  Harper peered at the puzzle. “Yeah, there’s pencil marks left. But not enough to read. You’ll still have to solve it.”

  “Come on, Chief, it’s bagged as evidence. You’re going to want to process it, find Sam Brogan’s fingerprints.”

  Sam muttered a choice comment under his breath.

  “What was that, Sam? I didn’t quite catch it.”

  “Sam, take this down to the station, run off a copy. I want to know what it says.”

  “You’ll have to wait, Chief,” Cora said. “Harvey Beerbaum isn’t up this early.”

  “No, but you are.”

  “Yes, I am. But I’m not solving any crossword puzzles. Particularly, not this one.”

  “Why not?”

  “Harvey solved the first one. Why? Because it wasn’t important. If you don’t let him solve the second one, everyone’s going to think it’s important.”

  “Who cares what people think?”

  “You do if it’s the Channel Eight news team. The last thing in the world you want is Rick Reed blowing the case out of proportion.”

  “No one even has to know there is a crossword puzzle.”

  “Oh. Bad move, Chief. To start withholding things from the public and the press. The word cover-up rears its ugly head.”

  “Cover-up of what? It’s a stupid old newspaper.”

  “Exactly. Unless you make a big thing out of it. After breakfast, run it to Harvey Beerbaum. Point out how it’s an old puzzle from the paper. Ask him if he remembers solving it before.”

  “Why should he?”

  “I don’t know. Some of these puzzle people, they have photographic memories.”

  “These puzzle people? You exclude yourself from the category?”

  “I exclude myself from the crazies who let it be an obsession. I don’t remember this puzzle, but Harvey Beerbaum might. Not that it matters. All that matters is that you treat it as if it weren’t important, and exclude it as a potential clue. I hate to say it because he’s such a sweet old fuddy-duddy, but being able to say you gave it to Harvey will go a long way toward convincing people you didn’t think it was important.”

  Before Chief Harper had a chance to argue, Sam Brogan came back in the door grinning from ear to ear.

  “Got him, Chief!” he announced.

  Sam was wrestling with a young man who was struggling mightily to get free. He was hampered by the fact that Sam had already clamped handcuffs on his wrists.

  Cora’s mouth fell open.

  It was the Guilford sisters’ nephew, Alan.

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  14

  “Found him sneaking around in the bushes, Chief,” Sam said. “I asked him to stop, he tried to run.”

  “Oh, big brave cop,” Alan said. “Like you outran me. I tripped and fell.”

  “What were you doing prowling around the house?”

  “Prowling? Who said I was prowling? I was on my way home.”

  “At four in the morning? What were you doing up at four in the morning?”

  “None of your business.”

  “Now, see here. This is a murder case.”

  “Murder?”

  “If I could step in here, Chief,” Cora said. “Sam, could you go see if you could arrest anybody else?”

  “Oh, are you running the police force?” Harper said.

  “Just trying to speed things along. Sam, why don’t you unlock this young man. I’m sure the chief and I will be safe.”

  “Chief?”

  “This is the Guilford sisters’ nephew, Sam. I don’t believe he’s a flight risk.”

  Sam grudgingly took off the handcuffs and left.

  “Now, dear boy,” Cora said to Alan. “If you would allow me to expedite. Chief, you will recall Alan is engaged to Arlene, who lives next door. Alan has doubtless escaped staying with his aunts by pleading a motel room somewhere. Whether he has one, or whether it is merely an invention to appease his aunts, in either case he was at Arlene’s now, and what Sam Brogan took for guilt was merely his embarrassment at having the fact he was staying over with the young lady in question found out. The thing I don’t know is whether he was apprehended attempting to sneak back to his motel in case the police searched Arlene’s house, or whether he was merely trying to see what was going on. Which is it, young man?”

  Alan was wearing slacks and a white shirt open at the neck. His face twisted into a boyish grin. “You’re quite amazing,” he said.

  Cora shuddered. “Please. Amazing is one of those words you use to describe a bad date. ‘She was amazing.’ ‘She had personality.’ All the other synonyms for I-wouldn’t-touch-her-with-a-ten-foot-pole. I’m not that old, young man.”

  “No, no, of course not,” Alan said. “Arlene is amazing, too.”

  “Yes, I’m sure she is,” Cora s
aid, dryly. “Well, Chief, you wanna interrogate this prisoner a little before deciding Sam’s cracked the case?”

  Harper sighed. “You see anything?”

  Alan shook his head. “No. Arlene woke up, saw the lights. Woke me up to see what was going on. I couldn’t see anything out the window so she suggested I go outside.”

  “Well done,” Cora said. “The young hero ventures forth for his lady fair, gets nabbed as a peeping tom for spying on his own aunts. Ain’t love grand?”

  Chapter

  15

  Cora was unhappy driving home. And it wasn’t just that it was four thirty in the morning. Or that she’d been confronted with yet another crossword puzzle that didn’t mean anything, but which she had to sidestep solving. Or a sudoku that she could solve, but which she damn well knew would be meaningless.

  Something about the case was bothering her. Was it because a harmless old drunk got killed? Or was it because a harmless old man got killed? Because the word harmless could be applied to both victims.

  Or could it? How did she know they were harmless? The drunk had lived here for years and never hurt anybody, at least as far as she knew; she could check with Chief Harper on that. The old man, on the other hand, was a stranger. So was it fair to assume he was harmless? He might well have been a serial killer himself. Perhaps some ruthless bluebeard who set wealthy women’s hearts afluttering, and married them and murdered them to get their cash. Somehow, Cora doubted it. The old man hadn’t set her heart afluttering. Granted, he was dead, but even so. He certainly didn’t look like a catch.

  He might have been some armed robber on the lam, laying low at a bed-and-breakfast. Perhaps even hiding out from his partner, with whom he had failed to divide the loot. The accomplice had shown up, poisoned him, and then stolen the money back.

  And his wallet. And his gun. And any trace of his existence. And then stuck around to poison an old drunk just for the hell of it. No, because the drunk had seen him do it. The drunk had seen him climbing out of the window. So he poisons him and throws him in the window seat? Not likely. Cudgels him over the head, Cora could buy, but poisons him?

  The way Cora saw it, these murders were either related or they weren’t. It made no sense that they were related. On the other hand, it made no sense that they were not.

  If they were related, which was the main murder? It would probably be the old man, partly because he died first, and partly because he was a stranger. Nothing was known about him, so his history was wide open. As were the motives for his murder. Whereas no one seemed to profit from the old drunk’s death. Unless you counted Dan Finley and Sam Brogan, who wouldn’t have to lock him up anymore.