Last Puzzle & Testament (14 page)

Philip Hurley smiled at Harvey Beerbaum. “Now, can you point out any flaw in that logic?”

Arthur Kincaid stood waiting on the courthouse steps. Sherry Carter pulled by, parked in the lot, and she and Cora walked back to meet him.

“You solved it already?” Arthur asked Cora, skeptically. His manner implied he was surprised to find she was even upright, let alone lucid.

Cora Felton bristled. “Yes, I did,” she snapped.

“The solution is
courthouse?
”

“Yes, it is.” Cora took a breath, plunged ahead. “And it’s either a dead-end solution, or it happens to be the next clue. If the next clue is
courthouse,
now what could that mean?”

ind-end height="0em" width="1em" align="justify">“I have no idea,” Arthur Kincaid said. “But this is the only courthouse in the district.”

“That’s what I thought,” Cora said. “Tell me, did Emma Hurley have any dealings in the courthouse in the later part of her life? Anything at all that would have brought her in this vicinity?”

“The answer is no. For the last six months Emma Hurley was confined to her home. Trust me, she went nowhere. Certainly not near the courthouse. As to the last time she was here, I really couldn’t say. She might have had jury duty, but that would have been years ago.”

“That doesn’t sound promising,” Cora said. “All right, let’s try the courtroom.”

“Court might be in session,” Arthur Kincaid pointed out.

It wasn’t. The courtroom was empty. They entered from the back, made their way down the aisle to the rail.

In spite of her best intentions, Cora Felton was not entirely sober, and at the sight of the empty courtroom she just couldn’t help herself. “I’ve always wanted to do this,” she said. She came through the rail, walked up to the judge’s bench, and smiled. “Your Honor. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury. This witness has told a very interesting story, but he happens to have testified to several things that are not true. I intend to cross-examine him on them now.” She turned to Arthur Kincaid. “How is that?”

“Actually,” he said, “you’re not supposed to make a speech before you cross-examine a witness.”

Cora Felton waved this away. “But you lawyers always do, don’t you? Though you’re awfully good at pretending that’s not what you’re doing. Look at Perry Mason.”

Before Arthur Kincaid could protest, Cora Felton had hopped up to the bench, sat in the judge’s chair, and picked up the gavel. “Overruled,” she growled. “And let me warn you, another outburst like that, and I will clear the courtroom.”

“Miss Felton—”

Cora banged the gavel. “Silence! Order in the court!”

“Cora …” Sherry warned, pointing over her shoulder.

Cora banged the gavel again. “What’s the matter, didn’t you hear me?”

“
I
heard you,” Judge Hobbs said dryly from behind the bench.

Cora Felton turned with a start. “Oh, Your Honor, I didn’t realize you were there.” She got up from the chair. “I hope I’m not in contempt of court. No, that’s silly. Court’s not in session. Oh, you know what I mean. Don’t you? Sure you do.”

Judge Hobbs countered Cora Felton’s babbling with an impassive stare. “Arthur, wha1C;ight=t’s going on here?”

Arthur Kincaid shrugged helplessly. “It’s the Hurley will. Old Emma Hurley’s got the heirs on some weird treasure hunt, and one of the clues appears to lead here.”

“Here? To the courthouse?”

“Yes. And Miss Felton’s been appointed judge of the contest. I’m afraid she took her role too seriously.”

“Well, no harm done,” Judge Hobbs said. “But what do you mean the clue leads here? I don’t really want the heirs swarming over my bench.”

“I assure you that won’t happen. We’ll keep them out of here. It’s just, if there is a clue, we have to find it. So the others won’t have to look.”

“Now, wait a minute,” Cora interjected. “Suppose the heirs
have
to come in here? Suppose the next clue is painted on the ceiling? And the only way they can find it is if they come in here, sit down in the chairs, and look up?”

“Nonsense,” Judge Hobbs said. “I assure you there is nothing painted on the ceiling.”

“Of course not,” Arthur Kincaid agreed.

In spite of these assurances everyone looked at the ceiling. There was nothing there.

“Let’s check out the witness stand,” Cora Felton said. “Is there any chance Emma Hurley would have been on the witness stand?”

“Not as a
juror
,” Arthur Kincaid said.

“Too bad,” Cora Felton said, undaunted. “There’s something attractive about the witness stand. Let me see. If I were to sit here …” Cora Felton sat on the witness stand, looked out over the courtroom. “And if I had something to hide …” She looked around. “I would be hard pressed to do so.” She peered under the chair. “And it doesn’t look like anyone has.”

“Of course not,” Judge Hobbs told her. “That’s utterly ridiculous. You expect to find something scrawled in lipstick on the bottom of my witness stand?”

“We don’t know what we expect to find,” Cora said. “We only know we need to look. Let’s try the jury box. There should be twelve chairs, right? For the twelve jurors.”

“Sixteen,” Judge Hobbs said.

“I beg your pardon?”

“There’s sixteen chairs, for the twelve jurors and four alternates.”

“Yes, I see,” Cora said. She batted her eyes at the judge. “Thank you for pointing that out.”

Sherry Carter suppressed a smile. Her aunt had been marr har pied several times, and Judge Hobbs was not all that elderly.

Sherry Carter began inspecting the bottom of the wooden chairs in the jury box. They were attached together and bolted to the floor. The seats flipped up, which made them easy to inspect. Sherry Carter started at one end of the first row, and Cora Felton started at the other. They met in the middle.

“Nothing here,” Sherry reported.

They moved to the second row.

It was under the third chair.

Sherry flipped the seat up, and there it was.

“Got it,” she said.

Cora Felton, Arthur Kincaid, and Judge Hobbs crowded around to look.

A manila envelope was taped to the bottom of the seat. There were strips of masking tape across all four corners. One corner had pulled free and was hanging down. The other three still held in place.

“Okay, this is obviously it,” Cora said. “So what do we do? Leave it in place, or remove it from the seat?”

“We’ve already settled that,” Arthur Kincaid said. “Judge Hobbs is not going to allow his courtroom to be used for any scavenger hunt. If this is what I think it is, we are going to take it outside.”

“Great,” Cora said. “Sherry, take it off the seat.”

Sherry pulled the masking tape off the bottom of the seat, and held up the envelope. It wasn’t sealed, it was fastened with a metal clip. Sherry straightened the clip, opened the flap, reached in, and pulled out the sheets of paper.

“More puzzle clues?” Cora asked.

“Take a look,” Sherry said. She passed the pages over.

It was indeed another set of puzzle clues.

“It’s another set of clues, all right,” Cora said. “Apparently for the next quadrant of the puzzle.”

“What about these new clues?” Arthur Kincaid asked. “How long will it take you to decipher them?”

“I won’t know till I try.”

“Can you do it now?”

Cora shook her head. “I can’t work with people looking over my shoulder.”

“If we leave you alone—”

“No!” Cora said sharply.

Arthur Kincaid frowned.

Cora Felton smiled contritely. “I’m sorry,” she said. She lowered her voice confidentially. “I’m just a little embarrassed. I forgot to bring the grid. So I really
can’t
work on these clues till I get home.”

“But you can solve it, can’t you?” Arthur Kincaid asked.

Cora Felton smiled, the trademark smile from her crossword-puzzle column photo, and patted him on the cheek.

“Piece of cake.”

The answering machine was blinking when they got home. Sherry Carter walked over to the shelf next to the kitchen wall phone and pressed the button.

Beep.

“Hello? Cora Felton? Is that you? It’s not your voice. Is that the other one? The woman who came with you? Is this the right number? If it is, this is Philip Hurley. And I solved the puzzle. It’s three-seventeen
P.M.,
please make a note of that: Philip Hurley is done at three-seventeen. Give me a callback and let me know what I’m supposed to do next.”

Philip Hurley repeated his phone number twice just to be sure. “Please call me right away. I’ll be standing by. And if for some reason this is
not
Cora Felton’s phone, please call and tell me that too, so I can get the right number.”

“Uh oh,” Cora Felton said.

“Yeah,” Sherry said. “Wanna bet right now the man is driving Information crazy trying to verify the number?”

“It’s in my name,” Cora pointed out.

“Even that may not satisfy him. The guy sounds frantic. Wanna give him a call?”

“No, I wanna solve the puzzle.”

“Be my guest.”

Sherry handed Cora the manila envelope.

Cora looked betrayed. “Sherry. Don’t be silly. I mean, I want
you
to solve the puzzle.”

“Thought it was a piece of cake,” Sherry teased.

“Well, if you’re going to quote every little thing I say. But if you wanna start solving the puzzle, I’ll be happy to look it over while you work.”

“It’s a deal,” Sherry said.

The phone rang.

Cora Felton’s face fell.

Sherry walked over to the wall phone, scooped up the receiver. “Hello.”

“Hi, Sherry. It’s Aaron.”

“Oh, hi.”

“Listen, I just heard from Chief Harper. It’s official. The Jeff Beasley case is a homicide.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope. He finally got the medical report. Which confirms it couldn’t have been an accidental death.”

“Does he have any leads?”

“If so, he didn’t say. The fact it’s a murder is all he’s giving out.”

“I see.”

“You getting anywhere with the puzzle?”

Sherry waited a beat. “Cora’s working on it.”

“Then I guess I should be asking her. But you must know. What’s the deal? You got anything for publication?”

“What’s the matter? Isn’t a homicide enough?”

“It would be if I had any facts. I got Chief Harper saying it’s a homicide. I got Barney Nathan saying that’s his finding. And I got Henry Firth saying something should be done about it. All of which is mighty thin, even if the victim had been someone of importance. The fact he was the town drunk doesn’t help.”

“You’re saying all citizens don’t have equal rights under the law?”

“Give me a break. Who’s talking equal rights? Celebrities sell papers. As it is, it’s a toss-up whether my managing editor picks the Beasley murder or the Hurley will for page one. So, if you had something to tip the scale …”

“You must know we can’t.”

“Does that mean you do?”

“Aaron.”

“Sorry. It’s the reporter in me.”

“Sherry,” Cora said. “Stop flirting and get off the phone.”

Sherry quickly covered the mouthpiece. “Aunt Cora!”

“Any other time, dear. Right now, you’re busy.”

“Aaron, I gotta go. Call you later.”

“Okay. Bye.”

Sherry Carter hung up the phone, turned around to glare at her aunt.

Cora Felton put up her hands. “I’m sorry. Any other time. Right now we’ve got work to do. We got the puzzle, plus we got this doofus on the answering machine I gotta call back.”