Authors: Parnell Hall
Harmon Overmeyer was a sniveling little man with a nasal voice, a receding chin, a protruding stomach, and a habit of popping his knuckles that set Cora’s teeth on edge. He was, in fact, so unattractive a specimen of manhood that Cora had not the least inclination to marry him.
“I came as soon as I could,” Harmon declared somewhat defensively. No one had asked him why he hadn’t come earlier. “My flight was canceled. Out of San Antonio. They couldn’t get me to Washington on time to make the connection. Even rerouting me through Chicago.”
“You couldn’t get a direct flight?” Cora asked.
Harmon, who had addressed his remark to Chief Harper, looked at her in annoyance. So did Chief Harper.
“Horrible delays all over. It’s the terrorists, you know.”
Cora didn’t really agree. In her opinion, terrorists were too easy a catchall excuse for everything.
“Anyway, we’re glad you’re here,” Harper said. “You’ll want to take charge of the estate and arrange for the burial.”
“When you spoke to me on the phone, you had not yet found the will.”
“We still haven’t.”
“Have you checked with the town attorney?”
“Ms. Baldwin is the town attorney. Your uncle never consulted her.”
“Would that be the young lady I supposedly hired to conserve my estate?”
“Which young lady did you hire?” Cora asked.
“I didn’t hire a young lady.”
“You hired a man?”
“I didn’t hire anyone. I didn’t know there was an estate until I got a phone call.”
“That was from me,” Chief Harper said.
“Yes. Telling me my great-uncle had been murdered. Which was a bit of a shock. I didn’t know I
had
a great-uncle. I didn’t know he was alive. I didn’t know he was dead. I certainly didn’t know he’d been murdered. And I don’t see why he’s
my
responsibility.”
“You’re his closest living relative.”
“Surely he had a closer living relative.”
“Do
you
have any living relatives?”
“Not anymore.”
Harper frowned.
“Then I’m summoned here to take charge of the estate. Before I even arrive, you call me again to tell me someone has
taken
charge of the estate. In my behalf.”
Cora Felton bit the bullet, smiled, batted her eyes. “That was a misunderstanding.”
Harmon was having none of it. “Just
how
could that be a misunderstanding?”
“Ms. Baldwin is the only lawyer in town. When anyone dies, she’s the conservator of their estate, unless they’ve made other arrangements. Since Overmeyer had no living relatives—”
“I’m his relative.”
“Yes,” Cora conceded. “But you didn’t even know it. If the chief hadn’t dug you up through some good old-fashioned detective work, your great-uncle’s property would have wound up being sold at public auction. After being inventoried by the conservator. Who would be Ms. Baldwin.”
“Oh, really? If everything was so aboveboard, why did the chief here call me to see if I had actually hired the attorney in question?”
“I can’t speak for the chief,” Cora said, speaking for him, “but I would assume that was to ask if you wanted anything out of the ordinary done in light of the fact that your relative appeared to have been murdered.”
Harmon turned on the chief. “Would that be the reason?”
Cora put up her hands. “I think we are losing sight of the fact that we have a murder investigation. The point is not who authorized what. The point is who killed your great-uncle.”
Harmon favored Cora with a superior smirk. “And just who are you?”
“I’m sorry. This is Cora Felton,” Chief Harper said. “You might know her as the Puzzle Lady. She’s an amateur detective who’s often been invaluable in my investigations.”
“Puzzle? What do you mean, puzzle?”
“She has a crossword puzzle column.”
“Oh, for goodness’ sakes! I thought you were a police matron, someone who searched female prisoners. I thought that was the rather tenuous excuse for your presence. Are you telling me you have none?”
“Watch it, buster. Just because you’re rude doesn’t mean you’re not guilty.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Someone sent your great-uncle poison chocolates. It might have been you.”
“The poison was in chocolates?”
Harper put up his hand. “We’re not giving out any information.”
“She just did. What’s this about chocolates?”
“There’s nothing about chocolates,” Chief Harper said irritably. “Miss Felton was using that as an example. As a figure of speech. No one is saying the poison was administered in chocolates, and we would thank you not to venture such a theory.”
“Now you’re trying to gag me?”
“It’s a temptation,” Cora muttered.
“What was that?”
“Of course I’m not trying to gag you,” Chief Harper said. “You can tell the press anything you please. I’m just suggesting for your own good you might want to steer clear of irresponsible statements people might tend to pounce on, give you grief for. Just a friendly hint.”
“I’m glad to see you’re friendly. I think I can take care of myself. Are you telling me you have no information on the crime?”
“Not at the present, no.”
“What about the assessment of the estate?”
“I made no such assessment.”
“You allowed a lawyer to.”
Chief Harper was keeping his temper with difficulty. “I was not aware of an inventory being made. When it was brought to my attention, I immediately asked if you had authorized it.”
“And put a stop to it?”
“Yes.”
“You stopped the lawyer in mid-inventory?”
Chief Harper hesitated.
“You
didn’t
stop her in mid-inventory?”
“She had already stopped.”
“Had she completed her inventory?”
“You’d have to ask her.”
“You didn’t ask her if she’d completed her inventory?”
“It wasn’t high on my list of questions.”
“You sound facetious, Officer. Are you being facetious?”
“It’s entirely possible. I’m just sitting here having stuff dumped in my lap from all directions. You come here from San Antonio to bawl me out for not keeping a closer eye on the effects of a distant dead relative you didn’t even know you had, I am not going to take that kindly. I hope you see my position.”
“I hope you see mine. If I’m the principal heir, no matter how remote the relationship, I want what’s coming to me.”
“Oh, you’ll get what’s coming to you all right,” Cora muttered.
“What was that?”
Harper stepped between them. “If you want your inheritance, then you’ll do everything you possibly can to help me clean up this unfortunate situation.”
“That’s how you see it? As an unfortunate situation?”
“Well, it’s hardly a fortunate one,” Cora said. “Now, unless you’d like to confess to this crime, why don’t you get the hell out of here so Chief Harper and I can solve it.”
“Well, would you believe that,” Cora said when she’d finally succeeded in throwing Overmeyer’s heir out of the office.
Chief Harper looked a little dazed. “Huh?”
“The nerve of that man. I’m surprised you didn’t pin his ears back.”
“That might have been easier to do if he weren’t right. Why were you and Becky Baldwin snooping around the cabin?”
“
Snooping
is such an unpleasant word, Chief. Almost sexist, don’t you think?”
“How is that sexist?”
“It implies women.”
“Women snoop?”
“That’s what it implies.”
“If it
implies
it because they
do
it, what’s wrong with that?”
“Just because something’s true doesn’t mean it’s not sexist.”
Chief Harper put up his hands. “Stop it. We’re not having this conversation. You’re not getting out of this so easily. What were you and Becky Baldwin doing in the cabin?”
“Looking for evidence you missed.”
“I
knew
you were going to say that.”
“Then you’re not disappointed.”
“Did you find it?”
“Of course not.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re a thorough investigator, and you didn’t miss anything.”
“Why do I find that answer so exasperating?”
Cora tactfully changed the subject. “I notice you didn’t mention any guns you might be tracing.”
“No one asked me about any guns.”
“It would seem to come under the heading of Mr. Overmeyer’s possessions.”
“It would also come under the heading of evidence in a murder investigation. As such, I would prefer not to have it bandied about.”
“Did you notice how I carefully didn’t bring it up?”
“If you had, I’d have arrested you on the spot.”
“I had a feeling,” Cora said.
“We have a dead man. We have no apparent motive for his death. Unless some partner in crime wanted to shut him up for some past transgression.”
“Or the offspring of such accomplice. You’re not about to give Harmon a free ride, are you, Chief?”
“Just between you and me, I’d love to pin it on him.”
“Too bad he was in Texas at the time.”
“Candy could be sent in the mail.”
“Not without wrapping. Big problem there, Chief. You send the guy a box of candy with a note that says, ‘Burn the wrapping paper before you eat this,’ he’s gonna get suspicious.”
“True, but if no one suspects he’s being poisoned . . .”
“The evidence get cleaned up before you got to it?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to. This is a mess.”
“You’re telling me? I got absolutely nothing to go on. I got this bozo running around making trouble. I got Rick Reed asking stupid questions that make
me
look stupid because I got no answer. Yes, I didn’t treat Overmeyer’s cabin as a crime scene. Because it wasn’t a crime scene until two days after he died. If I treated every death as a potential homicide, it would be cruel and heartless. Can you imagine me striding into some new widow’s home: ‘Hello, ma’am, sorry your husband just kicked the bucket, but it’s my job to make sure you didn’t hurry him along. You wanna give me your fingerprints and stay out of the bedroom while my boys give it the once-over.’ ”
“I see your point.”
“I’m in a pickle. Unless Dan comes through with the gun, I got nothing.”
“Yeah.”
“So if you can come up with anything, anything at all, it would be a lifesaver.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Cora said.
The crossword puzzle was burning a hole in her purse.
Sherry Carter stood on the seat and stuck her head out of the open top as the Land Rover bumped its way across the plains of the Masai Mara. The elephants off to the right, so exciting the first day of the safari, were no big deal. Not since they’d had a herd surround their Jeep. One had even charged before Jonathan, their guide and driver, started the engine and scared him away.
Giraffes were grazing right by the road. Jonathan barely slowed down. Sherry and Aaron had seen enough giraffes to last a lifetime. Today they were after wildebeests.
The migration this year had been late. There’d been ample rainfall in the Serengeti, grazing had been good, and the wildebeests had been slow to move. A two-week delay would be enough for Aaron and Sherry to miss them. They couldn’t have that. If the wildebeests wouldn’t come to them, they’d go to the wildebeests. Even if they had to drive all the way to Tanzania.
Aaron put his arm around Sherry’s shoulders. “Do you know why the wildebeests aren’t in Kenya yet?”
She frowned. “Why?”
Aaron’s eyes twinkled. “Because the rain in the plain stays mainly in Tanzania.”
Sherry batted at him playfully with her binoculars, and they wrestled around in the back of the Land Rover.
“Easy, tiger lady,” Aaron said, laughing and pinning her hands. “You know, we don’t have to do this.”
Sherry grinned. “I promised you a wildebeest, I’m going to give you a wildebeest.”
“I can live without a wildebeest.”
“You say that now. But when we get home . . .”
“I’d settle for a reticulated giraffe.”
“Who wouldn’t? But we’ve seen enough giraffes.”
“You can never see enough giraffes.”
“Well, we’re not going to turn back now. It’s wildebeests or bust.”
“Speaking of bust . . .”
“Why, Aaron Grant. Was that a racy Cora remark?”
“That wasn’t the way I saw it.”
“Well, you watch your mouth. I’m a married lady.”
“So I recall.”
“Look!” cried Jonathan. “Wildebeest!”
The Land Rover bumped over a small rise, and there they were. Thousands of wildebeests, as far as the eye could see.
“Wow,” Aaron murmured.
“Worth it?”
“I’ll say.”
Jonathan assured them this was nothing. In the height of the migration, the plain would be solid wildebeests. Millions of them.
Sherry and Aaron were happy to settle for tens of thousands. After all, they were on their honeymoon.
They got back to camp just before dinner.
The tents they lived in were large, had electricity and running water. Not that you could drink it, but you could take a heated shower. The tent flaps had to be knotted shut securely so the monkeys didn’t get in.
The bar and dining room, with thatched roof and open air, and warthogs trotting freely in the yard, still featured a battery-charging station and Internet access port.
Sherry took her iTouch out of her pocket, logged on.
“I thought you weren’t going to do that,” Aaron said.
“I’m just picking up my e-mail.”
“I thought that’s what you weren’t going to do.”
“I’m not going to
answer
my e-mail. That doesn’t mean I can’t pick it up.”
“What’s the use of picking it up if you aren’t going to answer it?”
“Just to make sure nothing’s wrong.”
“Nothing’s wrong. Cora has your international cell phone number. In an emergency, she’d call.”
“She might forget how.”
“You wrote it down for her.”
“Sweetheart. It’s Cora. You know what convoluted logic might make her decide not to call.”
“I know what convoluted logic might make you decide to check your e-mail.”
“I’m not going to check it every day. Just every half a million wildebeests.”
“Wasn’t that something?”
“I’ll say. . . . Ah. I picked up a signal. And look. Four new messages.”
“Only four?”
“I have a good spam filter.”
“Even so. When was the last time you checked your e-mail?”
“What’s the big deal?”
“Sherry.”
“So, I checked it last night. We didn’t have anything. Just junk. And today we got— Uh-oh!”
“What?”
“Cora.”
“What does she want?”
“I don’t know, but she sent an attachment.”
“Cora sent an attachment?”
“I left instructions.”
“What does she say?”
Sherry read, “ ‘Didn’t want to bother you, but I got this puzzle. I gave the first one to Harvey, which was okay because it didn’t mean anything, and he solved it for Chief Harper. Now I got another one, and I can’t give it to Harvey because Chief Harper doesn’t know about it because I found it at a crime scene where I wasn’t supposed to be. I’m hoping it means nothing and I can throw it in the trash. But old man Overmeyer, the geezer with the cabin, got himself poisoned, and I could use a little help. If you can solve this puzzle and send it back, I’d be grateful, and if you happen to notice any way it might relate to a thirty-two-caliber Smith and Wesson revolver, that would be even better. Have a happy honeymoon. Don’t let the monkeys steal your undies. Cora.’”
“The monkeys steal your undies?”
“An old South African toast.” Sherry smiled. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard it.”