Authors: Parnell Hall
Dead Man's Puzzle (12 page)
Chief Harper sipped his third cup of coffee, ran his fingers through his thinning hair. “It’s a mess. An utter disaster.”
“You got the autopsy report?” Cora asked.
“Not yet. Barney says if I call him one more time, he’s gonna let the answering machine pick up.”
“One good thing. There’s no crossword puzzle involved.”
“So? If there was a puzzle, at least I’d have a reason for consulting you. As it is, I’m a chief of police taking advice from an amateur detective crossword puzzle columnist for no earthly reason.”
“Hey, just because I don’t have a license doesn’t mean I’m no good.”
“I know it and you know it. John Q. Public doesn’t know it. Outside of Bakerhaven, I mean.”
“Well, you’ve got a crime to solve, and I’d love to help you do it. We’ve got a little bit of a breather, because Aaron wasn’t here to cover it for the paper, and Brooks cold-cocked Rick Reed.”
Harper had to smile at that. The victim’s husband had hit the on-camera reporter so hard, he hadn’t been able to file a report.
Cora settled into her chair, pulled out her cigarettes.
“Don’t even think about it,” Harper said.
“I thought you wanted me here.”
“Not if you’re gonna smoke. If you’re gonna smoke, go out and come back.”
“Aw, hell.” Cora shoved the cigarettes into her purse. “I should warn you, when I have a nicotine fit, I get nasty.”
“And we all know what happens then,” Harper said dryly. “You start abusing suspects.”
“Oh, Dennis is a suspect?”
“Suspect or witness, you can’t beat them up.”
“He’s drunk. He won’t even remember.”
“Like that makes it better.”
“We needed to know what he knew.”
“
We?
Leave me out of it. I wasn’t up on the porch slapping him around.”
“You know what I mean. The woman’s dead. We have to know what she knew.” Cora looked around. “So, where is he? You got him locked up?”
“I probably should have. For his own good. I left him in a motel on Route Nine. Figured that would keep him out of trouble.”
“Unless he wakes up and drives off.”
“His car’s at the Country Kitchen.”
“Good move. Where’s hubby? You didn’t let him stay home, did you?”
“No. He’s in a motel.”
“Not the same one?”
“Just as far away as I can get.”
“Dennis should have sobered up by now. Wanna send Dan out to bring him in?”
“I was planning to.”
“So?”
“After you leave.”
“What?”
“Cora, you punched him out. Maybe not as bad as Brooks hit Rick Reed, but if he wakes up with any recollection of what happened, you’re in serious trouble.”
“You think I couldn’t take him sober?”
“Don’t be silly. He’ll sue you for damages.”
“
That
wimp? Give me a break. He wouldn’t even think of it.”
“Yeah, but he’s got a pretty sharp lawyer.”
“Becky wouldn’t sue me.”
“She might not have a choice. He’s a client. If it’s in his best interests to sue, how’s she gonna stop him? It would be malpractice.”
“She could always quit.”
Harper grimaced. “I’m not sure she’s got so many clients she can afford to throw one away.”
“All right. I understand. I’m a bad girl, I’m in trouble, I can’t afford to prod Dennis with a stick. If I promise not to piss him off, will you let me stay?”
“You think you can keep your promise if he acts like a jerk?”
“If? Come on. We
know
he’s gonna act like a jerk. I’ll keep quiet and let him do it. Come on. Whaddya say?”
Dan Finley stuck his head in the door.
“Dan,” Harper said. “Just who I wanted to see. Wanna run over and pick up Dennis Pride?”
“He’s here.”
“What?”
“He’s out front. With his attorney. Becky Baldwin. He wants to see you.”
“Uh-oh.”
Cora smiled. “See, Chief? It’s not my fault. I just happened to be here.”
“I wouldn’t be so happy if I were you. He brought his lawyer.”
“He’s not gonna sue me.”
Dan ushered Becky and her client in. Dennis had washed his face, combed his hair, and tied his tie, but his eyes were red as beets. He looked like a guy nursing a hell of a hangover.
“This is a surprise,” Harper said. “I kind of thought you’d stay put. What do you want?”
“First off,” Becky said, “he wants his car. You abandoned this man with no means of transportation. That is totally unacceptable. We want that car, and we want it now.”
“Take it.”
“Where is it?”
“You don’t know?”
“No. Where did you put it?”
“I haven’t touched it. I assume it’s at the Country Kitchen. That’s where I picked him up. If he doesn’t remember, that’s a good indication he shouldn’t have been driving.”
“Did you charge him with DUI?”
“No, I did not.”
“Then that claim has no merit.”
Harper shrugged. “You’re the one who brought it up. So, are you here as his attorney?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Good. I have some questions for Dennis, and I would hope you are going to advise him to answer them.”
“We’ll get to that,” Becky said. “First I have some business.”
She flopped a briefcase down on Harper’s desk, reached in, took out a paper.
Harper raised his eyebrows, glanced at Cora. “That looks like a summons.”
“Yes, it is.”
“What’s the charge?”
“Aggravated assault.”
Cora sucked in her breath.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Harper told her.
“You’re suing me?” Cora said incredulously.
“Of course not.” Becky turned to the chief, slapped the summons into his hand. “Chief Harper, you are charged with aggravated assault on my client, Dennis Pride, for illegally and without sufficient grounds taking him into custody last night in the Country Kitchen. I am filing suit for assault and battery, false arrest, using excessive force, and humiliating my client, who is blameless. The incident, I understand, happened in front of dozens of witnesses. We are asking one million dollars actual damages and four million dollars punitive damages.”
Becky cocked her head and smiled. “Now then. You have some questions?”
Becky dropped Dennis off at the Country Kitchen. He got in his car, backed up, pulled out of the lot.
Before Becky could follow, Cora drove up behind her, cutting her off.
Cora was out of her car in a flash. “Becky, you can’t do this.”
“Do what?”
“Sue Chief Harper.”
“It was either that or sue you.”
“What?”
“Dennis seems to recall being roughed up at the victim’s house. Of course, it’s only a vague recollection, and there aren’t any witnesses. At the Country Kitchen, there’s plenty. And it’s a much better suit. If I sue you, I have to go into court, prove you beat him up. You’re old enough to be his—”
“Watch it!”
“You see my problem? But an authority figure like a policeman, much more plausible.”
Cora’s eyes widened. “You’re suing Chief Harper because I slapped Dennis around?”
“I’m just stating the situation.”
“And you complain about lawyer jokes!”
“Was my client roughed up or what?”
“You don’t think he had it coming? Off the record, I mean?”
“Of course,” Becky said. “This is
all
off the record, or I wouldn’t be talking to you. This conversation is hypothetical and never happened. It
wouldn’t
have happened, if you weren’t blocking my car.”
“Becky. This is not fun and games. Two people are dead.”
“I know. And the killer should be brought to justice, yada, yada, yada. That’s true. We still gotta play by the rules. I got a client says he was abused. He may not be a model citizen, but most clients aren’t. I gotta take it seriously.”
Cora waved it away. “Yeah, yeah. Forget all that. What does Dennis know about the murder?”
Becky looked surprised. “Nothing.”
“But he talked to the woman. What did she tell him?”
“You know what she told him. Exactly what he said on TV.”
“He didn’t tell her story on TV.”
“Yes, he did. The only thing he withheld was her name.”
“That’s all he knows?”
“Yes.”
“So, why wouldn’t you let him talk to Chief Harper?”
“I
did
let him talk to Chief Harper.”
“You did all the talking.”
“That’s what lawyers do.”
“Dennis isn’t withholding anything?”
“No.”
Cora looked Becky in the eyes, shook her head. “You should play cards. I can’t tell if you’re bluffing. The problem is, you file the damn suit, then you do all the talking for your client. I can’t tell if you’re being coy about the murder, or just reluctant to discuss the damage suit.”
“I don’t
know
anything about the murder.”
“Maybe not. But your client’s been snooping around for days. You know it, I know it. Calling on Mrs. Brooks wasn’t the only thing he did. If you find out anything else, give me a heads-up.”
“I can’t do that.”
“You can’t let a killer go free, Becky.”
“I wouldn’t do that.”
“How about an accessory to murder?”
“Huh?”
“Your client’s interview on TV probably got the woman killed. Let’s not lose sight of that.”
“It’s not a crime.”
“Maybe not, but it might be actionable.”
“What?”
“What if hubby gets a lawyer? Files a wrongful death suit? How’d you like to be defending that?”
“I suppose I’d get paid for it.”
“Come on, Becky. You’re too young to be cynical.”
“That’s not cynical. That’s just practical. You wanna let me out of here? I got work to do.”
“Does any of it concern me?”
“Not if you play your cards right.”
“Was that a threat?”
Becky shrugged. “I don’t know. Might be a bluff.” At Cora’s irritation, she added, “You know, I think I like this poker metaphor.”
Chief Harper wasn’t in the best of moods. He had a summons for aggravated assault on his desk and a gaggle of Overmeyer heirs outside his door. Cora had to fight her way through them to get into the office. She kicked the door shut, flopped into the chair next to the desk, and said, “How’s tricks?”
“Well,” Harper said glumly, “according to my insurance carrier, I am covered for claims arising from false arrest. However, there seems to be some question as to whether that applies. They point out I never actually booked Dennis Pride. In light of which, they maintain, this is
not
a false arrest but an aggravated assault. In which case they’re not willing to concede that I’m covered.” Harper cocked his head. “I’m trying to decide if it’s too early to start appraising my house. Becky’s only got an apartment, she could probably use a house.”
“Chief—”
“Which wouldn’t be so galling if
you
weren’t the one who beat Dennis up.”
“No one’s taking your house, Chief. This won’t even go to court. If it did, the insurance company would defend it, because people would stop buying their coverage if they didn’t. But you know and I know that isn’t going to happen. Because Dennis is a huge wimp, and when you file a countercharge of obstruction of justice, he’s going to cave in like that.” Cora snapped her fingers. Jerked her thumb at the door. “So what are the happy heirs doing?”
“Alibis.”
“Huh?”
“I’m checking their alibis.”
“How’d you get ’em in here?”
“They came of their own accord. Wanna know why I won’t let ’em leave town.”
“They wanna leave town?”
“For the most part. Soon as it turned out we’re solving a murder instead of probating a will.”
Cora nodded. “That makes sense. What
doesn’t
make sense is if they’re not interested in inheriting, why would they have done it?”
“I admit, these theories aren’t fleshed out.”
“How are they doing with alibis?”
“The Westons alibi each other.”
“Who’s that?”
“The guy with red hair and the skinny woman.”
“Oh. Bozo and Cruella.”
Harper grimaced. “Please. I have enough trouble without images like that in my head. Anyway, Alan and Ellen Weston claim they were back in their motel watching a movie on TV. Didn’t see the evening news. Didn’t know there’d been a murder until this morning.”
“There are movies on at eleven o’clock?”
“The motel gets free HBO. So they say. I haven’t checked up yet, but it would be a stupid claim to make if it wasn’t true.”
“Hmmm.”
“Isn’t this where you say, ‘I’ve met some pretty stupid killers in my day’?”
“Yeah, but falsely claiming to have HBO defies stupidity. More likely the motel has HBO, they looked up to see if a movie was playing at that time, and are claiming to have watched it.”
“You think they’re guilty?”
“Hell, no. I’m just saying their alibi’s worthless. They could have watched the eleven o’clock news, heard Dennis blab about the witness, rushed out and killed her, come back, and checked the TV schedule for something they could claim they were watching instead of the evening news. A movie on HBO would fill the bill.”
“Think I should get ’em back in here?”
“I don’t know what you’re gonna prove, unless you wanna grill ’em on the plot of the movie. What movie was it, by the way?”
“The Sixth Sense.”
Cora made a face. “Oh, phooey. Everyone’s seen
The Sixth Sense
. ‘I see dead people. On TV. Not in the bedroom where I’m slitting her throat.’ You can count on it they know the plot. They wanna leave, by the way?”
“Just as fast as they can. Which doesn’t mean they did it, but doesn’t mean they didn’t.”
“Right,” Cora said. “Who else you got?”
“A Mr. Snively stayed at a bed-and-breakfast. He thinks the owners saw him come in.”
“That doesn’t mean they didn’t see him go out. Whose bed-and-breakfast was it?”
“Marge and Bob’s.”
“The Mercers?” Cora snorted. “Scratch that alibi. Marge is deaf as a post. Bob likes his gin. By eleven o’clock, you’d have your run of the place. What heir was that?”
“Mr. Snively.”
“That doesn’t help.”
“Whiny voice. Three-piece suit.”
“Oh, the Cranky Banker. Snively fits him fine. His alibi’s no better or worse than Bozo and Cruella’s. Who else?”
“Harmon Overmeyer. I’d love to get him on murder, but he’s more likely to kill one of the others. Insists that he’s the real heir and they’re just party crashers. Furious that they’re here. He’s got no alibi. Staying at a motel alone. Says he didn’t watch the evening news. Had a drink and went to bed early. He blames me for the other heirs being here. In a way he’s right, because I won’t let ’em leave. But I didn’t bring ’em. Which is what he’s implying. That I attracted ’em. Through reckless statements made by me and Becky Baldwin. Nonsense, of course, but Becky assures me a lawyer can argue anything.”
“At least in that case she’d be arguing on your side,” Cora said dryly. “What about the Geezer? You got the dope on him?”
“Fred Goldman? Sure. What’s
his
nickname?”
“The Geezer.”
“Oh. Guess I walked into that one.”
“Does he have an alibi?”
“No. And proud of it. At least he gets a kick out of telling me so to my face. He’s staying in the same motel as Dennis Pride. Not that it means anything. Dennis wasn’t there at the time of the murder. The Geezer says he was. Points to no corroborating evidence whatsoever. Except . . . Guess what he was doing?”
“What?”
“A crossword puzzle.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“Relax. It was one of yours. Nothing in there about crime, was there?”
“How the hell should
I
know?” Cora cried.
Harper looked at her in surprise. “Easy. No one’s accusing you of anything. I’m just saying, it’s your simple everyday column. You didn’t have a column in yesterday’s paper relating to crime?”
“I have no
idea
what’s in yesterday’s paper,” Cora said irritably. “These things are written way in advance. By the time they see the light of day, I’m into something else entirely. The guy solved the puzzle. Just ask him to produce it.”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah what?”
“I’d feel stupid doing it.”
“Now you know how
I
feel. You bring me all these crossword puzzles, figure they must have meaning. Some don’t. Is that everyone?”
“No. There’s Cindy Barrington.”
“Who?”
“The girl with too much makeup.”
“Oh. The Hooker.”
Harper winced. “Do you suppose you could come up with a more suitable nickname?”
“I could, but they’d bleep it.”
“Cora.”
“She have an alibi?”
“No. Says she was out for a walk.”
“At eleven o’clock at night?”
“Exactly.”
“Where did she say she was going?”
“Just walking around.”
“Around what?”
“She didn’t know.”
“That’s not good.”
“No. You’d like a destination. At least a point of reference.”
“I wouldn’t want to criticize your investigative techniques, Chief, but this is less than helpful.”
“No kidding. Think you could do better?”
“I couldn’t do any worse. Mind if I ask a few questions?”
“Go ahead.”
“Why are they still here?”
“I didn’t mean of
me
.”
“I know. I’m going to question them. I’m just curious. What reason did you give them for sticking around?”
“I didn’t give them a reason. I just told them to stay.”
“And they did?”
“I’m a cop.”
“Come again?”
“I questioned them one at a time. When I finished with one, I asked for another. They’re out there wondering what comes next.”
“What comes next?”
“I have no idea. I was waiting for you to get back.”
“That isn’t funny.”
“Well, I was waiting for something. Actually, I’m waiting for everything. I’m waiting for the autopsy report. I’m waiting for the fingerprints to get processed.”
“What fingerprints?”
“The ones that are going to turn out to be Juliet or George Brooks.” Harper shook his head. “The big problem here is it’s too simple a crime. She saw the killer. The killer found out, thanks to Dennis and Rick Reed, and shut her up.”
The phone rang.
Harper scooped it up. “Chief Harper. . . . Hi, Barney, what you got? . . . I know she was killed with a razor. . . . The sole cause of death? Why wouldn’t it be? . . . Okay, you’re saying she was alive when her throat was cut. She wasn’t drugged, or knocked out, or manhandled that you can see. So when did she die?” Harper’s face hardened. “Give me that again. . . . You must be mistaken. . . . I don’t care what methods you used, I just want to know the time. . . . Well, that can’t be right.”
Harper slammed the phone down. “Damn!”
“What’s the problem?”
“She was killed between nine and ten.”
