Last Puzzle & Testament (32 page)

“He doesn’t want me?”

“No, I asked him. You weren’t in the Country Kitchen last night.” Cora tugged at Sherry’s arm. “Let’s go.”

Sherry wasn’t convinced. “Shouldn’t we tell him we’re going?”

“I wouldn’t bother him right now,” Cora Felton said decisively. She went to the door, flung it open. “Come on, come on,” she said.

As they went out the front door, Cora murmured, “I’m pretty sure he doesn’t mind if we go, but why take a chance?”

As they drove up to the cabin, Chester Hurley’s truck was nowhere to be seen.

“Just our luck,” Cora groused. “He’s not home.”

“Don’t be too sure,” Sherry told her. “He hides his truck down the road so people will think he’s not here. He could be inside, with his gun trained on us right now.”

“Why would he do that?” Cora objected. “We’re obviously not here to hurt him.”

“Oh, sure,” Sherry said. “We suspect him of assaulting Harvey Beerbaum and rigging the game, but we’re really no threat.”

“I don’t suspect him of assaulting Harvey Beerbaum. ’Cause the odds are the same person who attacked Harvey also killed Annabel Hurley, and I can’t see Chester doing that. Can you?”

“I don’t know what he’s capable of,” Sherry said. “I’m just saying be careful.”

“I’m always careful,” Cora said mendaciously.

She was already out of the car and up on the porch. She banged on the door, tried the knob. “Locked,” she declared. “I bet a stiff kick would open it …”

“Aunt Cora.”

“Just making an observation. Is there another door?”

“Around the side.”

The side door was fastened with a hook.

“Hmm, latched from inside,” Cora said. “But not that well. You’ll notice there’s a crack between the door and the jamb.”

“So what? The point is, Chester’s not here.”

“I thought you said his truck could be hidden.”

“And he’s hiding inside and not answering the door?”

“It’s a thought.” Cora slipped the bulging drawstring purse off her shoulder, rummaged in it, came out with a pocketknife.

“What are you doing?” Sherry asked in horror.

Cora flicked the knife blade open. “Making a little experiment.”

Cora slipped the knife blade between the door and the jamb.

“Aunt Cora, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Then get back in the car.”

“Aunt Cora—”

“Oops,” Cora said, as the knife blade popped the hook out of the eye. She turned to her niece. “Well, the door seems to be open, so I’m going in. Why don’t you sit in the car and honk the horn if someone comes?”

“Phooey on that,” Sherry said, and decided she sounded just like Cora. “If the door’s open, let’s go.”

Cora and Sherry slipped inside. They found themselves in an exceptionally dingy kitchen. The sink was piled with dirty dishes. The electric range was missing two of its four burners. The refrigerator was of the kind with the exposed motor on top, which made it look just one small step up the evolutionary scale from an icebox.

On the table was a large brown paper bag. Cora peered inside it, then whistled. “Take a look at this,” she said, and pulled its contents out of the bag.

It was a dish rack with a rubber tray.

“How about that,” Sherry said. “Isn’t that the same one we just bought?”

“It sure is. And Mildred Sims too.”

“What’s going on here? Everyone’s buying a À9;s buyidish rack.”

“It means we’re on the right track.” Cora rubbed her hands together, eyes sparkling. “Okay, let’s toss the place. Open the cabinets and look under the sink. In particular, look for a large tin of sugar. Sugar canisters are a prime male hiding spot. An old coot like Chester will figure it’s the last place anyone would look.”

Sherry found the sugar canister, but, disappointingly, it was empty except for a dead cockroach. A quick search of the kitchen turned up canned and powdered foods, mostly of the cheaper brands, and some boxes of stale crackers.

“Living room next?” Sherry suggested.

Cora shook her head. “Only if it’s in plain sight. A man’s ten times more likely to hide something in his bedroom.”

“You’re an expert on what a man’s likely to do?”

“Well, I married enough of ’em.”

Chester’s living room was stark, with a couple of chairs, a table, and a dilapidated couch. The only bright spot, a working fireplace, might have been cheery in winter, but didn’t help in July.

The women pushed on into the bedroom. Though also poorly furnished, it was far more comfy. There was a double bed with sagging box springs and a brass frame, a rickety bureau piled high with clothes that wouldn’t fit in the drawers, a bookcase made of cinder blocks and planks filled two rows deep with well-thumbed paperbacks, and a straight-backed chair practically buried in dirty clothes.

“Typical,” Cora said. “The man could use a laundry hamper.”

“When he inherits the Hurley fortune, maybe he can buy one,” Sherry said. “Uh oh. Look at that.”

Sherry stepped gingerly between the possessions strewn on the floor. In a corner of the room, resting on a stack of faded newspapers, was a small, portable Smith-Corona typewriter.

“You think this could have typed the last clue list?” Sherry asked.

“There’s one way to find out,” Cora said.

There were sheets of paper on the floor next to the typewriter. Cora ratcheted one into the machine, typed
The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog.
She ripped the paper out of the roller, said, “We can compare this later. Right now we search the room. Okay, I’m Chester Hurley and I’ve got something to hide. So, it’s either under the mattress or taped to the bottom of a bureau drawer.”

Cora marched to the bed, flipped the quilt down, reached her hand between the mattress and the box spring.

“Aha,” she said, eyes sparkling. “I certainly hope this isn’t a men’s magazine.”

What she pulled out from under the mattress was a manila envelope.

“Don’t tell me,” Sherry said.

“What do you mean, don’t tell you. It’s what we were looking for.” Cora unsnapped the envelope, pulled out the sheet of paper. “Well, well,” Cora said. “Fifty across, ____
Ababa (Ethiopian city);
fifty-three across,
Idiot;
fifty-four across,
Tax man.
”

“Let me see,” Sherry said. She took the paper, looked it over. “It’s the missing clues all right. How does the typing look?”

“It looks okay. What do you say we get out of here before Chester comes back and blows us away?”

“Best idea you’ve had all day.”

Sherry and Cora hurried out of the bedroom to the kitchen. Sherry half expected to find Chester Hurley waiting at the screen door with a scowl on his face and a huge pistol in his hand. Of course, there was no one there. They slipped out, hopped in the car, and took off. Sherry’s heart didn’t really stop racing until they reached the main road.

“Okay, let’s go home, put this up on the grid,” she said.

“You think it’s from the original puzzle?”

“I don’t see what else it could be.”

“What’s the long clue?”

“
Bakery,
so to speak?”

“
Bakery?
How is that a pun?”

“I have no idea until I solve the puzzle.”

“Can’t you solve it in the car?”

“If I had a Dramamine.”

“Oh?” Cora said. “Am I driving too fast?”

“Well, I didn’t see a speed limit posted, but I bet it isn’t eighty-five.”

“This is practically an emergency,” Cora said, spinning the wheel. “There’s a killer on the loose, and we hold the key to his identity.”

“That might be a legitimate excuse if we were heading for the police station.”

“We can’t go to the police until you solve the puzzle,” Cora objected. “If I drive in there now, he’ll expect me to solve it.”

“Yes, I know,” Sherry said.

“So hang on and let me get you home.”

It took less than five minutes. Cora sped up the driveway, screeched to a halt. The car was still rocking as they hopped out.

Àjustify"01C;Okay,” Sherry said. “Let me boot up the computer.”

“Can’t you do it by hand?”

“Actually, it’s faster this way. Much faster, since I left the computer on again.”

Sherry clicked on Crossword Compiler, pulled up a blank grid. “Let’s see, I need the third quadrant. What did I save that as?”

Sherry clicked on it. A grid filled the screen.

“Now the new clues,” Sherry said.
She propped them up beside it.

ACROSS

• 50. ____ Ababa (Ethiopian city)
  
• 53. Idiot
  
• 54. Tax man
  
• 58. Bakery, so to speak?
  
• 62. Mail delivery org.
  
• 63. Rub out
  
• 65. Medieval instrument
  
• 66. Drugged
  

DOWN

• 37. Fraught with incident
  
• 42. Take on again
  
• 46. Out of work
  
• 47. Beveled 51. Extinguish
  
• 54. Fellow
  
• 55. Say cheese
  
• 56. Mimicked
  
• 59. College
  
• 60. Sold out
  

She looked up from the computer. “Care to have a crack at it, Cora?”

“No, I’d like to have you do it. Before someone shows up and you can’t.”

“There’s a thought,” Sherry said. “Okay, what have we got here?”

The phone rang.

Sherry and Cora looked at it, then looked at each other.

“I can’t think of anyone I wanna talk to,” Sherry said.

“Me neither,” Cora said. “Why don’t we let the answering machine pick up?”

“Good idea. Why don’t you monitor it, see who it is.”

“Gotcha,” Cora said. But when she reached the kitchen, the answering machine had already picked up.

“Hey!” snarled the irate voice of Phyllis Applegate. “What’s going on? I solved the puzzle, I went to the lawyer’s, and there’s no one there. That’s a fine kettle of fish, no one there. You said you’d be there, and you aren’t. The lawyer’s not there either. And the office is locked. I’m calling from a pay phone, and I’m serving you notice. If I lose this inheritance, you’d better have insurance, ’cause I’m suing you for every dime.”

Phyllis Applegate banged the phone down, and the answering machine reset. When that happened, Cora noticed it was blinking many times.

“Uh oh,” Cora said.

She pressed the button.

Beep.

The first caller was Philip Hurley in an absolute tizzy.

“This is Philip Hurley! Something’s happening, you’ve gotta stop the game! There’s been another assault! Another attack by the killer! The police are investigating and asking questions, and how can I possibly play with that going on? You gotta call a time-out, you gotta call a do-over. You gotta stop this, right here, while there’s still time, before anybody else gets hurt.”

There was a sound like, “Huh?” then low mumbling, then Philip Hurley came back on the line.

“Not that I’m not doing great. Not that I’m not in position to win. I just don’t want to win like
this.
Just shut it down right now, I’ll pick it up again as soon as the police clear up these attacks.”

Beep.

“It’s Aaron Grant. I got nowhere at the hospital. The puzzle guy’s still in a coma. I could use a jump on the TV people, save me something if you can.”

Beep.

“This is Chief Harper. I don’t recall telling you to go anywhere. When you get this message, get back in here. And I mean
now
.”

Beep.

“Miss Felton, Arthur Kincaid here. Chief Harper is most unhappy. I don’t know where you went, but it wasn’t my office, because Chief Harper just drove me back here to find you, and wasn’t pleased when he didn’t. He just called you from my phone. I’m not sure he mentioned where he was. He probably didn’t, he was rather upset. He just left, and I’m all alone here waiting for the heirs, who aren’t going to be too happy either. Call me as soon as you can. Please.”

Beep.

“Hey!” the Phyllis Applegate message began again. “What’s going on? I solved the puzzle, I went to the lawyer’s, and there’s no one there—”

Cora clicked the answering machine off.

Sherry burst into the kitchen with a paper in her hand. “Okay, I got it,” she said. “Here, take a look.”