A Crossworder's Delight (14 page)

“You never know.”

“You're barking up the wrong tree, there, Rosco,” Charlie continued, still chuckling. “Reg and MaryJane have this routine they do—Lord and Lady Battle-Axe, a couple of stuffy upper-class Brits who own a dilapidated castle near Cambridge. They have those accents down pat. It's ten times funnier than any of those Brit-coms you see on TV.”

Rosco smiled thinly. “I'll bet it is. Actually, I have a strange feeling that I may have already caught part of their act.…”

But Charlie wasn't listening; instead he was pointing toward the hallway. “There's Reggie now. Let me get him over here and have him do some of his comedy bit for you. He'll have you in stitches.” Charlie Chew stood and called across the room. “Reggie! Hey, Reg, come on over here. I've got some people I'd like you to meet. And grab MaryJane while you're at it.”

Rosco walked to the door. “Mr. Towbler, I presume?”

Christmas Current

Melt together over low heat: ¾ cup
21-Across;
3 oz.
56-Across
+
22-Down;
¼
26-Across
butter … then cool to lukewarm

Lightly beat: 1
38-Across;
1/3 cup
16-Across;
and 1 tsp. vanilla

Stir the
38-Across
mixture into the
22-Down
mixture until blended

Sift together: 1 cup cake flour; 1 cup
49-Down;
½ tsp. baking soda; a pinch of salt

Rapidly beat the flour mixture into the
22-Down
mixture until smooth

Stir in ½ cup
34-Across;
¾ cup chopped pecans

Pour batter into greased and floured 9-by-4-inch loaf pan

Bake at 275 degrees for 45–55 minutes until firm but not completely dry

Cool in pan on a cake rack for 20 minutes before removing

This will serve 8–12

Christmas, Current

ACROSS

  
1
. Chessman

  
6
.  Flap

  
7
.  Corn center

12
.  King of the fairies

14
.  Everything

15
.  Paddle

16
.  MAMA'S DESSERT

18
.  Zodiac sign

19
.  Map; abbr.

20
.  Petites; abbr.

21
.  MAMA'S DESSERT

24
.  Gift locale; apropos the tree

26
.  MAMA'S DESSERT

27
.  North or South follower

28
.  Earthy color

51
.  Quarrels

34
.  MAMA'S DESSERT

38
.  MAMA'S DESSERT

39
.  35-Down bubbles

41
.  Surprised exclamation

42
.  Grist

45
.  Boy's Christmas wish

47
.  Miss Shearer of the Silents

48
.  Steam

49
.  Gulf of _____ in the Aegean

52
.  Holiday news

56
.  MAMA'S DESSERT

59
. Lyric poem

61
.  Head of state; abbr.

62
.  Lyric poem

63
.  Badgering

65
.  Swiss peak

66
.  _____ & outs

67
.  Shed

68
.  Thing, in law

69
.  23-Down lang.

70
.  Indian guitar

DOWN

  1
.  Sailors

  2
.  Biggest blast

  3
.  North sea feeder

  4
.  Goof

  5
.  Highwaymen

  6
.  Chatter

  7
.  Herbert portrayer in “Great Expectations”

  8
.  Radio goof

  9
.  Ionian Island

10
.  Like some breads

11
.  Classification

13
.  Lloyd, of “Captain Eddie”

17
.  Slave leader Turner

22
.  MAMA'S DESSERT

23
.  Roman marketplaces

25
.  Fisherman's aid

29
.  Slice

30
.  Kingly letters

31
.  Religious sch.

32
.  Ben Hogan's grp.

33
.  Ten percenter; abbr.

35
.  Holiday quaff

36
.  Calendar abbr.

37
.  Daughter's brother

39
.  Christmas tree, often

40
.  Butt

43
.  Poetic plenty

44
.  Attar

45
.  Spans

46
.  Big _____

48
.  Perfect

49
.  MAMA'S DESSERT

50
.  Iguana relative

51
.  Polite replies; abbr.

53
.  Tavern

54
.  Flash of light

55
.  Mr. Claus

57
.  Miss Millay

58
.  Question

60
.  Frankenstein's assistant

64
.  Lively, in France

To download a PDF of this puzzle, please visit
openroadmedia.com/nero-blanc-crosswords

Seventeen

W
OW
… so, Mr. Charleston Chew knew all about the pilfered painting? I could never keep a secret for sixty years. I mean, that's a really, really, really long time.… And it makes him an accessory to a crime, I guess, too, doesn't it?” E.T. was supposedly helping Belle prepare one of the crossword desserts as he spoke. In fact, what he was doing was scrutinizing the cookbook puzzles while munching away on some of the raw ingredients listed in “Christmas Current.”

“It's Mr.
Charles
Chew, not Charleston, E.T.” Belle chortled. “And if you don't stop sneaking pecans and currants, I'm not going to have enough to make this cake for Ms. Leonetti's holiday party.”

“And I can go with you and Rosco? Like, really and truly? I've never been to a grown-up party before.”

“If it's okay at home, it's fine with us.” When E.T. failed to respond, Belle pressed him. “You did ask your folks, didn't you? The party's tomorrow night.”

“Sure … yeah … I got approval and everything.…”

“Hmmm … You don't sound very sure, E.T.”

“Well, I am!”

Belle studied the boy's face, uncertain whether or not to believe him, but he stared back with such an enigmatic expression that she gave up the effort. “You know, Rosco and I don't want to do anything that would upset your family,” she said after a long moment.

His sole response was to shrug, as if suggesting that nothing would rattle the residents of his home, so Belle continued with a gentle, “Anyway, it's not going to be a really
grown-up
event. All the dogs are included, so I imagine Martha's place is going to be pretty chaotic. It gets crazy enough around here with just these two, so once you add Ace and Princess and the others, who knows what will happen?” As Belle made this observation, she looked affectionately at Kit and Gabby, who were curled around E.T.'s chair, snoozing peaceably. Twelve-year-old boys, she decided, must have a magnetic attraction for canines—and vice-versa.

E.T. reached down to stroke the two sleeping heads; his face was now full of doting concern. “Maybe we shouldn't be making this chocolate cake, then, Belle. Chocolate's poisonous to dogs. It's got something called theobromine in it. I looked it up—”

“I know, in the encyclopedia.” Belle interrupted with a smile. “I promise we won't let any of them near the stuff.” Then she cocked her head and regarded him with a mock serious expression. “However, I'm not certain
we
is the operative word for today's activity, because as far as I can figure, I'm doing all the work.”

“I'm reading you the clues and answers, aren't I?”

“Hmmmm …” was Belle's noncommittal reply as she returned to concentrating on greasing and then flouring a loaf pan and checking to make certain the oven was set to preheat at 275 degrees. An avowed non-cook, her actions were slow and careful, like someone who's just learned to drive.

“So, is Lieutenant Lever going to arrest Charleston … um, Mr. Chew and the M and M's?” E.T. persisted with the kind of lugubrious delight also reserved for preteen boys.

“Not unless there's a murder involved,” Belle answered as she broke an egg into another hand-me-down bowl and tried to decide what precisely was meant by “lightly” beating the yolk and white. “Lieutenant Lever's head of homicide, remember? Stolen goods aren't his domain. Besides, I imagine the statute of limitations may be expired.”

“What kind of statue is that?” E.T. asked her.

“Pardon me?”

“What you were talking about … a statue of limitations.… Like, is it in a museum?”

Belle chuckled. “Aha, caught you, Mr. Dictionary!
Statute
is from Late Latin:
statutum
, for law.”

E.T. scribbled the word in a composition notebook he had nearby, then stared at the letters, memorizing them. “So, if Lieutenant Lever discovered that the lady who drowned in the chocolate works was murdered instead of falling in by mistake, he couldn't do anything about it because of this statute?”

“Homicide's different,” Belle explained. “But you know what? You can ask Lieutenant Lever all about that investigation yourself tomorrow. He was up in Boston yesterday going over old records. He'll be at Ms. Leonetti's, too. With his wife and his dog, Skippy.”

“Cool!” was E.T.'s enthusiastic response. Belle imagined his excitement was meant for the four-legged member of the Lever family rather than for what Al had discovered in Boston; which was quite a bit more than old Mr. Liebig had remembered. The dead woman had, in fact, been murdered; pushed into the chocolate vat by a jealous lover who then tried to ship out with the merchant marine before the body was discovered. Unfortunately for him, his ship's departure was delayed by a week because a U-boat had been sighted lurking behind the Stellwagen Bank off Cape Cod, meaning that the perpetrator was dragged off the boat by the cops, tried, and convicted of murder in the first degree. On top of that, the deceased had been a Polish immigrant with only a marginal understanding of English, so any imagined connection Belle had created between the mystery woman and the cookbook was now null and void.

Belle released a brief, frustrated sigh, then returned her focus to the cake. “Okay, what's next?”

E.T. studied the crossword. “Um … let's see.… You're melting the 21-Across, 26-Across, 56-Across, and 22-Down over a low heat …?”

“Three-quarters of a cup of
BLACK COFFEE …
one-quarter of a
POUND
of butter … three ounces of
UNSWEETENED CHOCOLATE.…
Yup.”

But instead of continuing to call out the recipe instructions, E.T.'s brow suddenly furrowed in surprise. “Hey … weird … I never figured this out before.…
TIDINGS
, which is the answer to 52-Across, that's my middle name … Well, not quite, because I'm spelled differently—T-Y-D-I-N-G-S.… That's kind of neat, though.… I can call myself
Holiday news
from now on.”

“And what does the E stand for?” Belle asked. She didn't expect an answer. E.T. was as secretive about the origins of his name as he was about his home life, but instead of changing the subject as he normally did, he unexpectedly scrunched up his face. “Ellicott,” he mumbled, “Because of my great grandfather, Ellicott Tydings.… I never knew him. He was called ‘Dutch.'”

“Ellicott Tydings doesn't sound like the name of someone from the Netherlands,” Belle remarked, but even as she said the words, a small gong went off in her head.
Dutch
, she thought.
Of course! Maybe this mystery woman wasn't married to a man from Holland as I imagined Mr. Liebig suggested … Maybe Dutch was a nickname
—
just like E.T
. “I don't suppose your great-grandmother's maiden name was Dodge …?” Belle asked after a pause. “Or … or Swerve, by any chance?” She grimaced as she spoke; the query sounded daffy even by her standards—as well as another major long shot.

The look E.T. gave Belle showed how completely loopy he thought the question was. “
Swerve?
You mean, like turn away to avoid from slamming into something? Like what I do on my bike when I see an icy patch …? Man, and I thought Ellicott Tydings Whitman was a dorky—”

But Belle's brain had already made another startling connection, and she hurried to the window-side table where copies of the crossword recipes lay scattered among the cake ingredients. “Old Mr. Liebig couldn't remember the young woman's name …,” she muttered to herself as she began scanning the puzzles. “When I went to Legendary, trying to discover who'd created this book, he didn't have a clue … but then when he and his son brought the chocolate village to the inn, he suddenly …” Belle's eyes were racing through the across and down clues and solutions. “I assumed it was a surname he was recalling.… He said Swerve; I immediately thought he meant Dodge.… as if his thought process had made a natural verbal transference, because Dodge is such a solid Massachusetts name.… But maybe—”