Last Puzzle & Testament (15 page)

“Right. What are you going to tell Philip Hurley?”

“I don’t know. By rights, I should give him the next part of the puzzle. But I don’t want to give it out when you haven’t even solved it yet.”

“But as soon as I do, you will?”

Cora Felton frowned. “Not quite. This is why I get the big bucks. What’s that lawyer’s number? Let’s give him a call. Before someone else calls us and ties up the phone.”

Cora Felton looked up Arthur Kincaid’s number, punched it in.

The lawyer was surprised to hear from her so soon. “You mean you solved it already?”

“No, I haven’t, thank you very much. But I’ve had a phone call from Philip Hurley, claiming he’s solved the first part. Which is all well and good, but I don’t intend to have these people traipsing over to my house at all hours of the day and night. So here’s the deal: Would you kindly inform the heirs that I will meet them all in your office at ten o’clock tomorrow morning? At that time, any of them who present me with the correct solution to the first set of clues will receive the next part of the puzzle.”

“Philip Hurley is not going to like that,” Arthur Kincaid said.

“No, I don’t imagine he will,” Cora Felton retorted. “Which is why I thought I’d let
you
be the one to tell him.”

“Thanks a lot,” Arthur Kincaid said. “Any reason for this decision?”

“None that I’d like you to give out. But if the rest of the puzzle is the same, that is, if the solution keeps telling us where the clues are hidden, I don’t want any chance of anyone solving it first and beating us to them.”

“Good point.”

“You wouldn’t happen to know where the next clue was hidden, would you, Mr. Kincaidu, and be?” Cora asked sweetly.

“Of course not. How could I?”

“It’s rather obvious Emma Hurley didn’t tape that envelope to the bottom of the seat in the jury box. Someone must have done it for her. I’m wondering if that was you.”

“Then let me set your mind at rest, Miss Felton. Emma Hurley did not entrust me with any such mission. The puzzle came as much a surprise to me as it did to anyone. As soon as you solve it, I’m dying to know the answer. So don’t wait till ten o’clock tomorrow, give me a call.”

“And you’ll contact the heirs?”

“I’ll call them,” Kincaid promised. “Which doesn’t mean they won’t call you. They’re not going to be happy. You might let your answering machine pick up.”

“Thanks for the advice,” Cora said, and hung up the phone. “You get the gist of that?” she asked Sherry.

“Kincaid didn’t plant the clues?”

“So he says. Whether I believe him or not is another story. Anyway, we stall on giving out these clues until tomorrow morning. Which gives us time to solve the puzzle and find the next set of clues before anybody else does. Arthur Kincaid suggests we let the answering machine pick up from now on, and I think that’s a pretty good plan.”

The phone rang.

Sherry and Cora looked at each other.

“Fine,” Sherry said. “We’ll let it pick up.”

The machine answered on the second ring. Sherry Carter’s voice said, “You have reached 555-4827. We’re not in right now, but please leave a message after the beep.”

Beep.

“This is Chief Harper. Please call me right away. I got the autopsy report on Jeff Beasley, and—”

Sherry Carter snatched up the phone. “Hi, Chief. We’re here. We’re just screening calls. I hear Jeff Beasley’s a homicide.”

“You hear right. How’d you hear so fast?”

“Aaron Grant called.”

“It’s a wonder the boy has time to write. Is your aunt there?”

“Yes, she is.”

“Put her on, willya? I gotta ask her something.”

Sherry handed the phone to Cora.

“Hi, Chief,” Cora said. “We got us another murder?”

“
I
hav&e another murder,” Chief Harper corrected. “But I could use your help.”

“Sure thing, Chief. You need me out at the crime scene?”

“No, but I want your help with one of the witness statements.”

“You got it, Chief. Who we gonna grill?”

“You’re not gonna grill anybody. The questioning’s already been done. I need your help with something someone said.”

“What’s that?”

“Prodigal son.”

“Huh?”

“Prodigal son. That’s what the witness said. Jeff Beasley used the term
prodigal son,
so I need to know what it means.”

Cora Felton waved her hand, and her eyes flashed distress signals to Sherry Carter. “You want me to define the term
prodigal son?
”

“That’s right.”

Sherry mouthed a word, but Cora couldn’t catch it.

“I thought you wanted me to interrogate a witness,” Cora said, stalling for time.

Sherry Carter grabbed a piece of paper, wrote
wasteful, extravagant
on it, and handed it to Cora.

Cora squinted at the scrap of paper. Frowned. “
Prodigal
means
wasteful
or
extravagant,
Chief.”

“Wasteful or extravagant?”

“That’s right.”

“So a prodigal son …?”

“Is a wasteful, extravagant son.”

“That’s less than helpful.”

Sherry drew a halo around the top of her head with her finger, then pantomimed opening a book.

Cora gawked at her.

Sherry grabbed the paper, scribbled
Bible.

“Excuse me, I think I hear the doorbell,” Cora said.

“What?” Chief Harper said.

Sherry scrawled
parable
under
Bible.

Cora squinted at the paper. “Yeah, could you hold on. I think there’s someone at the door.” She buried the receiver in her stomach, glowered at Sherry. “I can’t
read
that.”

“It’s a parable from the Bible,” Sherry hissed. “The prodigal son losodieight="es all his money, then returns home, and his father takes him in and kills the fatted calf.”

“What?”

“And his brother’s jealous,” Sherry added.

Cora looked at Sherry, then at the phone, then back at Sherry. Cora’s mouth was open and her eyes were wide. She blinked, then reached up on the wall and pushed the button on the phone, breaking the connection.

“Oops,” Cora said. “Oh, what a shame. The Chief got disconnected.” She glared at Sherry. “Don’t ever get a job as a mime.”

“Don’t ever get a job as a linguist,” Sherry countered.

“Never fear,” Cora vowed. She released the button, was rewarded by a dial tone. “Now, before the Chief has a coronary, fill me in on
prodigal son
so I can call him back.”

“Okay, I got it,” Sherry announced.

“Have you really?” Cora was nursing a tall gin and tonic. “I was close to it myself. As a matter of fact, I had narrowed ten across,
pod dweller,
to either
pea
or
man
.”

“
Man?
”

“You know, like in a space capsule.”

“It’s
pea
.”

“So, what’s ten down?
Place to go after leaving skating rink?
”

“
Post office
.”

“
Post office?
”

“Sure. It’s another terrible pun.
Post
is
after,
and
leaving skating rink
is getting
off ice
.”

“
Post office.
Of course. So that’s where the next clue is. Of course it’s probably closed by now.”

“I would imagine,” Sherry said. “It’s nearly seven.”

“No wonder I’m hungry. Pity I never learned to cook. Do you suppose that’s why I could never hold a husband?”

Cora kicked her feet off the couch. “Come on, let’s see the grid.”

ACROSS

• 10. Pod dweller
  
• 15. Going, going, gone
  
• 18. Norway capital
  
• 21. Idle talk
  
• 24. “I shot ____” (“Standup Comic”)
  
• 28. Swallow up
  
• 31. Side order
  
• 32. Enjoyment
  
• 38odieidwe. Exact
  
• 43. High pair
  
• 46. Sticks in
  

DOWN

• 10. Place to go after leaving skating rink?
  
• 11. They (fr)
  
• 12. Love
  
• 15. Desert succulent
  
• 22. Entertain
  
• 29. Bites
  
• 33. Secondhand
  
• 34. Loch ____ monster
  
• 39. Hansoms
  

Together, they peered at the screen.

“Nice job,” Cora said, approvingly. “You seem to have filled in all the clues. I would be inclined to let you move on.”

“You mean if the post office weren’t closed?”

“Exactly.” Cora smiled. “At least, we’ve accomplished one thing. By not giving out these clues, we can be assured no one will be breaking into the post office tonight to try to get the next set.”

“Unless we do?” Sherry said.

Cora Felton looked at her. “You wanna?”

“I was joking.”

“Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“I know where
yours
is,” Sherry said, indicating the gin and tonic.

“Don’t snipe. I hate it when you snipe. It only makes things worse.”

“Sorry. I just wanted to make this very clear. I am
not
breaking into the post office.”

“Fine. You wanna break into the Hurley house?”

Sherry’s eyes widened. “Aunt Cora!”

“Just a thought. Anyway, it would probably be easier than the post office.”

“And just why would you want to break into the Hurley house?” Sherry asked suspiciously.

“I thought we might find a clue.”

“A clue to what?”

“Sherry, just because everyone says Emma Hurley wasn’t murdered doesn’t mean it isn’t true.”

“Oh, for goodness sakes. Emma Hurley was dying. Everybody knows that.”

“Is a dying woman immune to poison? I read this Agatha Christie where—”

“I can’t believe we’re having this discussion. You’re getting paid fifty thousand dollars to referee a crossword-puzzle treasure hunt. But that’s not exciting enough for you. You have to invent a murder.”

“Invent? What do you mean, invent? Jeff Beasley was killed, wasn’t he? If someone killed him, why not her?”

“Cora—”

“After all, Beasley was found in her bed.”

“Exactly,” Sherry said. “And that’s what put the idea in your head in the first place.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s wrong.”

“No, Cora.
Common sense
means it’s wrong. Anyway, I’m not breaking into the Hurley house.”

“Oh, all right,” Cora pouted. “Point well taken. Now, if we could return to
my
point. About food. Since you’ve been cracking puzzles instead of cooking, we don’t have any. Food that is. You wanna go out and eat?”

“Where? To the Country Kitchen?”

“I was thinking of something more downtown. You know. Near the post office.”

“Aunt Cora.”

“It doesn’t hurt to go
by
the post office. It’s not like I was going
in
the post office. But it doesn’t hurt to look.”

“The only place I know downtown is the Wicker Basket.”

“So?”

“I was there yesterday for lunch. If I show up again, people will think I can’t cook.”

“There’s nothing wrong with people who can’t cook.”

“I didn’t say there was. I just don’t happen to be one of them.”

“So, you wanna go eat, or not?”

“I guess I am hungry,” Sherry admitted. “You wanna call Arthur Kincaid, tell him you solved the puzzle?”

“Nope, let him sweat,” Cora replied. “We’re gonna see him tomorrow morning, ten o’clock, that’s soon enough.”

“Fine,” Sherry said. “Whaddaya say let’s go?”

“You wanna change?” Cora said.

Sherry was wearing jeans and a cotton shirt. She grinned. “To go out with you? I think not. Of course, if you’d like to change, in case you should run into that judge …”

“Why, Sherry Carter. The very idea.” Cora considered the dress she was wearing, frowned, shrugged, then headed for the bedroom. “I’ll only be a minute.”