Last Puzzle & Testament (18 page)

Betty Roston leaned out, smiled at Cora Felton. “Now, what kind of stamps would you be wanting?”

Sherry Carter left the two of them negotiating and looked around.

On the long wall of the post office were two counters with various postal labels—insured mail, return receipt requested, change of address forms—as well as several Express Mail and Priority Mail envelopes approximately the same size as the manila envelope that held the first set of clues. It occurred to Sherry if the clues were hidden in one of those they would be very hard to find.

Sherry walked over to the counters. Glancing back to make sure she wasn’t seen, she bent down, looked under the first counter. There was nothing there, but there certainly could have been. There was a lip around the countertop that would have hidden anything taped underneath.

Sherry moved to the second counter, bent down, looked up.

And there it was.

An envelope, just like the one in the jury box, taped in the same way.

Sherry glanced swiftly over her shoulder to make certain no one was looking, then reached up and pulled the envelope off.

The post office door opened.

A man came walking in. He was looking right at Sherry. He saw her hastily straighten up. If this interested him, he didn’t show it. He had an envelope in his hand. He walked right in, headed for the postal window.

Sherry heaved a sigh, put the envelope down on the counter.

And here he came again. He’d evidently dropped his letter in the slot, and now he was headed straight for her.

Sherry had a moment of incredible panic, which was totally irrational, because, of course, she wasn’t doing anything wrong. So what if the man saw her take the envelope? At worst she’d have to call Chief Harper and straighten things out. Sherry’s heart was beating very fast.

The man paid no attention to her. He moved over and unlocked one of the little mailboxes.

Sherry turned her attention to the envelope. She unobtrusively tore off the masking tape from each of the four corners, wadded it up, and threw it in the wastebasket under the counter. The manila envelope was now no different than any other piece of mail. Sherry flipped it over, checked the seal. Like the one in the jury box, the envelope was fastened only by the metal clip. Sherry pulled the prongs back, opened the flap, looked inside.

Sure enough, it was another set of puzzle clues. Sherry didn’t bother reading them. She closed the flap, bent the metal clips back in place, folded the envelope in half, and walked over to her aunt.

“Got your stamps, Cora?”

Cora Felton smiled, and indicated the postmistress, who was leaning on the counter to talk to her. “Actually, Betty and I were chatting about the puzzle. The whole town’s talking about it, of course. Everybody knew Emma Hurley, isn’t that right? So everyone wants to know where her money’s going.”

Betty Roston’s plump face registered amused indignation. “Well, now, that’s not how I put it. But everyone’s certainly interested in those heirs. Been a long time since most of them been around.”

“And some of them never,” Cora said meaningfully. “Like this Daniel Hurley.”

“I haven’t seen him yet,” Betty Roston said. “Though I heard the motorbike going by.”

“There aren’t any other motorcycles in town?” Sherry said.

“Oh, I’m sure there are. And some do go by. But not at two in the morning. That’s when I heard his. Loud enough to wake the dead. Granted, didn’t wake my husband, but certainly the dead.”

“That’s funny,” Cora said. “You seen 201my hany of the other heirs? Any of them come by here?”

“Not the out-of-towners. Philip and Phyllis I remember, of course. I haven’t seen them since they’ve been back. They haven’t been around. Of course, you wouldn’t expect them to. Them that lives here’s another story.”

“Emma Hurley used to come here?”

“All the time. Up until the poor old thing took sick. After that, of course, no. She still bought stamps and mailed letters, but it was the housekeeper that always did it. Mildred Sims. You know her? She’s sort of an heir, isn’t she? Came into some money.”

“How do you know that?” Cora Felton asked. “Was she in here yesterday?”

“No, I heard it from someone.”

“One of the heirs?”

“Right. Not one of the out-of-towners. One of the locals who’s in all the time.”

“And who would that be?”

“Annabel Hurley. Told me about the will. Just yesterday afternoon.”

“Annabel Hurley was in here?”

“Large as life. Told me about Mildred Sims. I was glad to hear it. Fine woman, Mildred. Hardworking. Long-suffering. Deserves every penny she got.”

“I’m sure she does,” Cora Felton said. “What did Annabel Hurley come in for?”

“First-class stamps, same as you. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, no reason,” Cora said. “It’s just, well, so many things happened yesterday. The heirs heard the will, and found out about the puzzle, and got the set of clues. I don’t know, you’d think an heir would be too busy to be buying stamps.”

“I know what you mean.” Betty Roston nodded. “But Annabel said she’s not playing.”

“Oh?”

“She said she doesn’t do crossword puzzles. They bore her to tears. And she’s not after Emma’s money, she’s just interested to see how it all comes out.”

“That’s quite a way to feel about it.”

“Isn’t it? Though, in her case, I suppose it’s true.”

“Uh huh,” Cora said. “I don’t suppose any other heirs were around here yesterday?”

“Not that I noticed,” Betty Roston replied. “Of course, you wouldn’t expect them to be.”

Cora Felton nodded. “I certainly wouldnain x2019;t.”

“What was that all about?” Sherry said as they drove away from the post office.

“Is that the envelope?”

“Sure is.”

“Clues in it?”

“Sure are.”

“You look at ’em yet?”

“Just enough to make sure that’s what they were.”

“What’s twenty-seven down?”

Sherry smiled. “Why, Cora, I’m impressed. You’ve actually paid enough attention to know twenty-seven down is the next long clue.”

“So what is it?”

“
Close recycling place, so to speak?
”

“So to speak? What the hell does that mean?”

“I won’t know till I solve it.”

“And what about
close.
Is that
close
as in
shut down
?”

“Right.”

“Really? Wouldn’t that be a verb?”

“Aunt Cora, you’re getting better and better. I bet you could solve this whole thing yourself.”

“Oh, stop it. Puzzles aren’t my thing. Mysteries are. And look what’s happened here.”

“What’s happened here?”

“Annabel Hurley was in the post office yesterday afternoon. Where she had no right to be.”

“But if she’s not playing the puzzle …”

“Do you buy that? I don’t. I
hate
puzzles, and I can’t help trying to solve this one. And I don’t stand to inherit umpty million dollars for doing it. No, the only way this makes sense to me is if Annabel Hurley isn’t working on the puzzle because she already knows all about it.”

“And how would she know that?”

“Because Emma Hurley took her into her confidence.”

“Oh, come on.”

“What’s wrong with that? It had to be someone. Emma Hurley’s laid up; she can’t move. She has this elaborate plan to set up. ainem" alignShe needs someone to do her legwork. Why not a close relative living in town?”

“But if they were estranged …”

“What makes you think they were?”

“The way Annabel Hurley talked about her. How Emma pretended to be this paragon of virtue but she really wasn’t, she was scheming and cunning.”

“Right,” Cora said. “But that was all in the past.”

“Huh?”

“That was forty years ago. When Emma Hurley came into the money. By tricking her father into thinking she was something she wasn’t. That doesn’t mean Annabel feels the same way now.”

Sherry sighed. Sometimes life seemed more complicated than puzzles.

Cora Felton reached over, tapped the manila envelope.

“When Annabel Hurley was in the post office yesterday afternoon, I bet you a nickel she was planting these clues.”

“I thought your theory was the lawyer planted the clues.”

“Yeah, but I could be wrong.”

“No kidding.”

Cora Felton turned into the service station on the outskirts of town.

“We need gas?” Sherry asked.

“No, I’m just stopping a second.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m having a thought.”

“You don’t wanna get home and work on these clues?”

“I think this might be more important. If Annabel Hurley planted these clues, it kind of all fits.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Sherry said.

“Why not? It explains why she’s not working on the puzzle.”

“But not what she said about it. Which was, that she doesn’t understand it because Emma Hurley didn’t do crossword puzzles.”

“Right,” Cora said. “That’s one of the things that makes me know she and Emma Hurley were close.”

“Yeah, but it’s not just that,” Sherry argued. “Didn’t she also tell you to scrutinize the crossword puzzle very carefully because she can’t believe there can’t be more to it than just a simple solution? If Annabel was in league with Emma Hurley, wouldn’t she know
all
about the puzzle?”

“Not nec#x2n jessarily. Emma Hurley may have given her instructions on planting the clues without telling her what the puzzle meant.” Cora sounded quite certain of her theory: her eyes were bright with satisfaction.

“Then why isn’t she playing the game?”

“That was part of the deal. She’s Emma Hurley’s secret accomplice, so she has to stay out of it.”

“But why would she do that? Screw herself out of all that money? By
not
playing she doesn’t get any more than anybody else.”

“She doesn’t get any more now,” Cora Felton said.

“What do you mean?”

“What was to stop Emma Hurley from giving her something
before
she died? For all we know, the woman already got a million bucks and is walking around laughing at everyone.”

“Then what was last night all about?”

“Exactly what I said. Annabel was taken into Emma’s confidence, but only to an extent. She may or may not know the solution to the puzzle, but even if she does, she doesn’t know squat about what it means. And she’s desperate to know. Not for any material gain. Just to know.”

“Fine,” Sherry said. “Maybe you’re right. Now, would you mind telling me what we’re doing in this gas station?”

Cora put the car in gear, drove past the pumps to the phone booth on the far side of the lot.

“I wonder if there’s a phone book,” Cora said.

There was. It had a listing for an Annabel Hurley at 14 Green Street.

“Where’s Green Street?” Sherry asked.

“Back near the post office.”

“You know Green Street?”

“No, but it figures. Annabel said she saw us in the window when she walked by the restaurant. She probably lives real near.”

She did. Green Street was two blocks from the post office, and ran parallel to Main Street. Fourteen Green Street was three blocks down.

It was an insurance company.

The two-story frame house had doubtless at one time been a private home, but a wooden sign by the front door read BECKER & TAYLOR INSURANCE.

“Are you sure this is the right address?” Sherry said.

“No, I’m not. But it’s the one in the phone book. Maybe there’s a side entrance.”

There wasn’t, but there was one in the back. A wooden door with glass windowpanes. Through them Sherry and Co Sh">

To the right of the door was a metal mailbox with the name A. HURLEY. Underneath the mailbox was a bell. Cora Felton pressed the button decisively. They heard the chime ring upstairs.

“You suppose it’s like New York and they buzz you in?” Cora said.

“I would tend to doubt it.”

“Then she’ll have to come downstairs. It’s barely eight
A.M.
If she’s still in bed, she won’t be happy.”

“She won’t be happy anyway,” Sherry said. “We could have called first.”

“I didn’t want to give her time to make up a story.” Cora pushed the button again. “Miffed, I can handle. I prefer not to be lied to.”

They waited several seconds. There was no response. Cora pushed the bell again.

“Maybe she went out to breakfast,” Sherry said.

“It’s pretty early.”

“
We’re
up.”

“Yes, but we had a reason.”

“Maybe she did too.”

Cora rang the bell one more time. She pressed her ear to the door, listened, reached out, and tried the doorknob.

“What are you doing?” Sherry said, her heart sinking.

The door clicked open.

“I can’t get used to country living,” Cora said. “The woman doesn’t even lock her door.”

“Yeah, because no one barges in on her,” Sherry said. “And we’re not about to.”

“No, we’re not,” Cora agreed sweetly. “I’ll go in alone. You stay here, warn me if someone comes.”

“That’s not what I meant—” Sherry began, but Cora was already pushing the door open. Ahead of her was the narrow stairs.

Cora turned back to Sherry. “If someone comes, push the bell. If it’s her, ring twice.”