Anatomy of a Crossword (35 page)

“But she did tell you that she'd known your identity all along.”

“Right! She said that, too … Well, I had to ask her because I was so startled to get a call from someone I believed knew me as Gale Harmble, journalism's jewel. Logically, she would have had to ask the front desk for Belle Graham, right? It's very suspicious, don't you think?”

Rosco responded with a sardonic. “Gee, I don't know, what makes you say that?”

She slapped his shoulder with the road map. “I'm being serious.”

“So am I … But don't let anyone see that I have a map in the car. I'd hate to ruin my reputation.”

“Hah. I'm going to open it up and wave it at everyone on the freeway and yell, ‘It's his. The wimp in the red Mustang convertible needs a road map!'”

As they continued their drive to the San Fernando Valley, Rosco explained what he'd learned from Don Schruko. With each piece of information, Belle gasped, then murmured a stunned “Wow … Everyone's in on this thing …”

“And,” Rosco concluded fifteen minutes later as they exited the 101 Freeway at White Oak Avenue, “apparently Schruko also knows who's been creating the crosswords you've received. But he's playing coy and refusing to divulge the name unless we can somehow squelch this business about
Down & Across
being rigged. It seems everybody is all of a sudden looking out for themselves. The rats are fleeing the sinking ship.”

They arrived at Harriet's house on Delano Street just in time to see Max Chugorro's pickup truck disappear around the corner onto Zelzah Street. Harriet was still standing on her small concrete entry porch when Rosco pulled to a stop and parked.

“Wait a minute, you're the man who was at Mr. Mawbry's today,” Harriet said as the couple approached her. “What's going on, Belle? I specifically said I would only to talk to you and your husband.”

“This
is
my husband, Harriet. This is Rosco.”

The older woman gave them a distrustful glare, but nevertheless opened her front door and asked them to join her inside. The small house was tastefully decorated, the furniture so well cared for it appeared brand new. Harriet was clearly attracted to Asian art. Japanese scrolls adorned the walls, and a collection of Chinese porcelain sat on glass shelves that were supported by wires hanging from the ceiling. She caught Rosco staring at the display and said, “Earthquakes. The shelves swing when the ground shakes and nothing falls off—just like at the Getty Museum. I didn't lose a single piece with the Northridge quake, and the epicenter was right up the street. My friends laughed at me. Well, ha-ha on them, look who still has her china … Please, sit, both of you.”

Belle and Rosco sat on a camelback love seat, and Harriet dropped into a small slipper chair. Her hands shook slightly, and her eyes blinked rapidly with what appeared to be a nervous twitch.

“I didn't do anything wrong,” she announced with some force. “I want to make that clear from the start. It was all Rolly Hoddal—”

“That's pretty much what Don Schruko said to me this afternoon,” Rosco replied. “Hoddal must talk a good game … Either that, or he's everyone's number one sap and fall guy.”

Harriet ignored him. “And I never met Bartann Welner—face-to-face, that is. I only saw him from the audience. I never spoke to him.” The shaking in Harriet's thin hands and fingers began to increase. “But I admit that I was a teensy bit suspicious of his success … It seemed too easy for Welner. He was a millisecond too fast on that buzzer … each and every time. It wasn't logical that a man of his age could piece the words together that quickly … And to completely shut out Wanda Jorcrof? That seemed fishy, too … But he seemed so dear, such a lovely old gentleman, who would have suspected that he was cheating?”

“But if you had nothing to do with rigging the show, how did you figure it out?” Belle asked. “And why the need to see us all of a sudden?”

In a flash, a layer of fog lifted for Rosco. The puzzle was finally falling into place. “Rolly Hoddal was trying to set up another fix, wasn't he …? He didn't get his money so he wanted to give it another shot. And he wanted you to play Bartann Welner's part.”

“Rolly's very persuasive. He … He …” Harriet looked to Belle, but Belle merely continued to examine her.

“But I thought you mentioned he had problems with substance abuse,” she said dryly.

“Well, you see …” Harriet began, her fingers knit and unknit themselves.

“And why would you agree to participate in such a thing?” Belle persisted. “You certainly don't need the money. Or were the five husbands a lie, too?”

Harriet released a long sigh, then reached for a tissue and dabbed showily at her eyes. But Rosco saw no sign of tears.

“Were you and Rolly going to cut Don Schruko out of the game this time” he asked, “or was he still expecting his take when he finished up with the
Anatomy
shoot?”

“I'm not part of anything illegal! That's what I'm trying to tell you! Yes, Rolly
suggested
I might be a contestant. And, yes, perhaps,
initially
, I gave him … well, the wrong idea about my interest … I admit, the excitement was flattering for an old woman like me … But I swear to you I told him in no uncertain terms that I would never participate in his nefarious schemes. Never! And that's why I asked you two to come here. To explain that I had nothing to do with rigging
Down & Across
. Not now or in the past … In fact, just yesterday, Rolly and I met, and I tried and tried to persuade him to give up the idea of rigging the show. I told him it would never work a second time.”

Rosco studied Harriet. Her protestations seemed too practiced to be real. “So you're stating that you rejected Hoddal's proposal from the start?”

“Yes.”

“Meaning that your decision was to put an end to his entire scheme?”

“Unless Rolly's ignoring my advice and considering a contestant I know nothing about. I don't know what he's up to. He was fit to be tied when he never received a dime from the first fix.” Again, Harriet glanced at Belle and again dabbed at her still-dry eyes. Rosco decided it was time to change tactics. He looked toward his wife, exchanging a private message of complicity.

“Are you sure it was
Rolly
who called off the fix?” he barked at her. “On
your
advice? I can't buy that, Harriet, because from what Don Schruko told me—”

“Rosco,” Belle interrupted. “Can't you see she's upset? There's no need to be harsh—”

“Harsh? These people have perpetrated a million-dollar fraud, and you think I'm being too harsh?” He returned his concentration to Harriet and tried to catch her off guard. “My wife's been receiving anonymous crosswords. One of them includes the names of everyone on the
Down & Across
set.” Rosco counted off names on his fingers as he raised his voice. “Stan, Bart, Orso, Matthew, Wanda, Max, and you, Harriet, right in the center of the grid. What can you tell me about that?”

“Rosco …?” Belle repeated as a gentle warning while Rosco abruptly stood.

“I'm annoyed by these people, Belle, I really am.” He glowered down at Harriet. “What can you tell me about those crosswords. And don't even consider lying. I'm through with that.”

“I … don't know anything,” Harriet quavered.

“But you recognized my wife the moment you saw her. You're obviously a puzzle expert. You lied to Belle. You've been lying all along. Why? What are you up to? You and Max? How does Max fit into all this?”

“Maxie isn't involved. You have to believe me.”

“Why? Why should I believe you, Harriet? Tell me one iota of truth that's come from your mouth. Just one!”

That was all Harriet could take. She broke down in earnest and sobbed into her tissue. Belle crossed over and place an arm around the older woman. “I don't know what's gotten into him, Harriet.”

“I'm not finished with her, Belle. She knows a lot more than she's letting on.”

“No … No,” Harriet whimpered. “That's all there is … And I swear I've done nothing illegal. Maybe I shouldn't have listened to Rolly … or … or I should have gone to Stan McKenet right away—”

“Nothing?” Rosco almost shouted. “A man has been murdered, and the wrong person locked up for it. Do you know what that means, Harriet? It means that a killer is walking around free. And that killer is somehow involved with both
Down & Across
and
Anatomy
—
if
you give any credence to that crossword. And you know what, Harriet? I've got a little bug inside of me; and that little bug is saying, ‘Harriet Tammalong knows exactly who killed Chick Darlessen.'”

“It's Rolly who knows!” she whined. “He found out. It has nothing to do with me! Nothing!”

Belle removed her arm from Harriet's shoulder, stepped in front of her and looked down at the old lady's tear-stained face. “Who killed Darlessen?”

“Stanley … Stan McKenet did.”

Rosco stared at Harriet. “The producer? Why? Because he didn't want to make the million dollar pay-off? Is that your theory? Which would mean that he might have killed Bartann Welner on top of it.”

“No … Rolly … This is all Rolly's reasoning … He's certain Stan didn't kill Bartann because if that had been the case, he would never have attempted to rig the show a second time. He would have been far too frightened … Rolly feels Welner died of natural causes, but that the incident prompted Stanley's decision to eliminate Chick Darlessen as well.”

“Why would Rolly believe such nonsense?” Rosco demanded. “McKenet's a businessman. He makes those sizable payments to every Grand-Slam Winner. It's part of his show's budget. I don't buy greed as a motive.”

Harriet shook her head. “I know … It does seem unusual. That's why I didn't believe Rolly when he first mentioned it. I thought he was just being his usual paranoid self. But people get into financial scrapes all the time. Maybe Stanley's a gambler and lost a bunch at a casino …” She shook her head again. “All I can tell you is that Rolly has a key to the production office. That's how he steals the answers to the contests … And he swears he heard Stanley gloating over Darlessen's death—and pledging to remove Wanda, as well.”

“Wanda Jorcrof?” Belle asked. “Why?”

“Because she's been pushing Stan to air the Grand-Slam show she lost to Bartann Welner. She has no money, and she desperately needs her twenty-five thousand dollar consolation prize. But Stanley wants to bury the segment. He's afraid another Welner relative will appear on the scene. Rolly insists Stanley is going to silence Wanda.” Harriet took a deep breath.

“I assume Rolly has warned Wanda,” Belle said.

“He did,” Harriet replied in a thin and weary voice. “But she refused to believe him. Insisted his brain cells were misfiring … which is one of Rolly's problems. He does tend to see little green men with crazy hairdos on occasion …”

This time Belle sighed. “Why didn't you tell me you knew I was Belle Graham? Why did you propagate all those lies?”

“You're the one who started it,” Harriet countered swiftly. Her tone was edgy and combative.

Rosco stared hard at the older woman. “I'm not getting a good read on this story of yours, Harriet—”

“Fine. Don't believe me. But if you want to learn who killed Chick Darlessen, it's Rolly Hoddal you should be talking to.”

A stalemate fell upon the room until Harriet suddenly burst out with an anxious, “And now Rolly's private address book's been stolen from his dressing room. That's why he phoned me. He's beyond paranoid—”

“I thought he called you because I spoke to Don Schruko,” Rosco interjected.

“That, too,” Harriet countered. “But this other situation's more important … Because, Rolly's certain Stan McKenet took the address book, which lists Wanda's current residence out at Zuma Beach. See, she had to move because Stan wasn't coming up with her payment and she fell way behind on her West Hollywood rental. Rolly was the only one who had her present information. I should have never given it to him. She asked me not to pass it on to anyone, but Rolly wanted to send her a card. He wanted to send her some money.”

Belle and Rosco looked at each other. Harriet's tall tale wasn't sitting well with either of them. “And why are you telling us this?” Belle asked.

“Because Wanda's in danger.”

“And why should
we
believe that,” Belle persevered, “when Wanda's evidently willing to shake it all off?”

“Don't then!” Harriet all but screamed. “Don't believe a word I'm saying! It's no skin off my nose, is it? Let another person die. Who cares? But don't say I didn't do my duty and warn the only folks who could help her.”

“What folks might those be?” Belle asked.

“Why, you two, obviously. That's what you do, isn't it? Investigate criminal cases. That's why you met with Jillian Mawbry.”

“And where is Ms. Jorcrof hiding?” Rosco asked. His tone was beleaguered, but it also held a modicum of cynical amusement, as if he were suddenly willing to follow Harriet Tammalong's lead.

“I have the address right here. She's out by Zuma Beach.” Harriet handed Belle a slip of paper while maintaining a steady disregard of Rosco. “You'll be saving a life, Belle,” she said.

Back in the Mustang and driving west on the 101 Freeway, Belle turned to Rosco. “Do you think we should reconsider roaring off in hot pursuit of Wanda … because of what Harriet said Rolly said? What I mean is, do you think we're putting ourselves in jeopardy? Neither one of us quite believed Harriet's protestations of innocence back there.”

“No, we didn't,” Rosco interjected slowly. “But she's a smart cookie. I'd say she knows a lot more about rigging
Down & Across
than she's sharing. But I think she's far too savvy, and long in the tooth, to get mixed up in a murder—or try to set us up for one.”