Last Puzzle & Testament (40 page)

“Thank you,” Cora said. “Mr. Gelman, you’re a banker, you have certain responsibilities. And you are a man of discretion. You are privy to information that is confidential. You do not discuss your depositors’ accounts. However, it is my contention that Emma Hurley had business with your bank that
no one
knew about, no one except you. And I am asking for information about that business now.”

“One moment,” Chief Harper interjected. “Let me add something to that. Marcus, you know I wouldn’t want you to do anything you shouldn’t. But I have to tell you, this has become a murder investigation, and I have reason to believe that you have information pertinent to a crime. I’ll get a warrant if I have to. I’ll wake up Judge Hobbs right now if I need to. Because I would like an answer to a question I have a feeling you would normally not want to answer. I’m giving you the background to show you why you should answer. Now I’m just going to come right out and ask.”

Chief Harper reached in his pocket, took out the key. “Miss Felton, would you do the honors?”

“Yes, I will. Mr. Gelman, I hand you a key. I’m going to ask you now in my official capacity as Emma Hurley’s representative, would you tell me please, as president of the bank, if this is a key to Emma Hurley’s safe deposit box?”

Marcus Gelman took the key, held it up, and inspected it. He was sweating, and his fingers trembled as he turned it over in his hands. Then his plump body heaved, and a gusty sigh rattled his flabby cheeks. He seemed to cling to the little silver key as to a life preserver.

“Thank God,” Marcus Gelman murmured.

The courthouse was jammed. Every available seat was taken and every inch of floor space was filled. From her vantage point in the back of the courtroom, Sherry Carter stood and surveyed the scene.

Judge Hobbs sat at his bench, calmly awaiting the time to begin. He seemed impassive, as befitted a judge. From his manner this was nothing special, just another courtroom session.

But it clearly was not. For one thing, there was no defendant. Clustered around the defense table sat Chief Harper, Cora Felton, county prosecutor Henry Firth, Dr. Barney Nathan, and bank president Marcus Gelman, who were conferring with one another, thick as thieves.

Nor were there any jurors. The jury box was nearly empty, having been set aside for the heirs. The Applegates and the Hurleys were in the front row, sitting as far apart from each other as possible. Whether by accident or design, Philip and Phyllis sat at the extreme ends, with their spouses in between, as buffers.

Mildred Sims and the young yard boy whose name Sherry could not recall were also in the jury box, sitting second row center. The housekeeper sat stiff as a ramrod, her chin eles far apvated, looking neither left nor right. The yard boy, by contrast, was looking everywhere. He seemed thrilled by the proceedings, and was constantly shifting in his seat, which was, Sherry noted, the one under which they had found the second set of clues.

Daniel Hurley sat with Becky Baldwin in the first row behind the defense table. In spite of his recent incarceration, he looked none the worse for wear. He had showered and shaved and put on clean clothes, and he had clearly washed his hair, which was glossy, flowing down the back of his head. To Sherry, who had been married to a rock musician, the image grated.

Next to him, Becky Baldwin looked chic, modern, attractive, and coolly efficient, in a smart, no-nonsense ivory pants suit. Her image was a triumph of understated elegance and calculated simplicity. The overall effect was to make her look good without trying, which was almost unfair.

Particularly since Daniel and Becky were sitting with Aaron Grant. Which was not Aaron’s fault—this was the press row, it was where he was supposed to sit. They were the interlopers. They were the ones who had been offered seats in the jury box and had not taken them. The fact they were sitting together was in no way Aaron Grant’s fault. Sherry knew that. It didn’t stop her from blaming him for it.

Chester Hurley stood in the back of the courtroom on the side opposite Sherry. If he had dressed for court, she would not have known it. He wore a faded yellow T-shirt with a frayed collar, and a pair of ancient overalls, only one shoulder strap of which he had bothered to button. He was unshaven. A baseball cap of dubious vintage was on his head. Though she was way too young to tell, Sherry suspected the
B
on the cap was not for the Red Sox, but either the Boston Braves or the Brooklyn Dodgers.

Arthur Kincaid was there. Sherry saw him moving through the courtroom, conferring with various groups. As she watched, the lawyer leaned over the jury box rail to talk to Mildred Sims.

Glancing around, Sherry could pick out people she knew in the crowd. Minnie Wishburn from the Wash and Dry had a seat next to a tiny man with a big nose and thick glasses who Sherry figured must be Ray. If so, he was not at all what she expected. From Minnie’s description, Sherry had pictured some hulking fisherman.

Also in the crowd were Jimmy and Edith Potter from the library, Mable Drake from Odds and Ends, Betty Roston from the post office, the young waitress from the Wicker Basket, and the bartender from the Country Kitchen.

Conspicuous by his absence was crossword-puzzle constructor Harvey Beerbaum.

The news crews had squeezed in too. The TV cameras were set up along the sides of the room, where the on-camera reporters had carved out niches for themselves from which to shoot their lead-ins. Rick Reed was shooting one now, though what he was saying, Sherry couldn’t begin to guess. Other cameras were focused around the court, picking up shots of the principals in the case. Several of the cameras, Sherry noted, seemed to be focused exclusively on Becky Baldwin. At least, that was Sherry’s impression. Though, to be fair, she had to admit Becky was sitting next to Daniel Hurley, the chief suspect in the case. Even so, the coverage seemed excessive.

Judge Hobbs banged the gavel, trying to quiet tn she crowd. With so many people in the courtroom that took quite a while. When the rumbling had subsided somewhat, he pulled the microphone to him and said, “Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. If I may have silence, please, I would like to start out by making something clear. Court is not in session. This is not a courtroom proceeding. At the request of the Bakerhaven Chief of Police I am allowing my courtroom to be used at this time. The media are in town. We wish to welcome them, not turn them away. The courtroom has the facilities to allow them to film, although I cannot recall the last time we have ever done so. But through the coverage generated by this case, it would appear there is a need.

“Now, before I turn the floor over to Chief Harper, I have some housekeeping to take care of. The charges against Daniel Hurley have been dismissed. They have been dismissed without prejudice. I would like to explain what that means. All it means is Daniel Hurley is not a defendant at this time. There are no charges against him, and he is not under arrest. This does not mean he is not a suspect, this does not mean he has been cleared of suspicion. And no jeopardy has been attached. This dismissal is in no way a bar to a future prosecution, should evidence be uncovered linking him to the crime. All it means is he is not under arrest at the present time.

“You are now going to hear from various parties in this case. They will speak from the witness stand. That is because there is a microphone there. But they are
not
witnesses, they are
not
testifying under oath. They are speaking from the witness stand merely as a matter of convenience.

“With that, I will turn the floor over to Chief Harper.”

Chief Harper walked over to the witness stand, sat down, pulled the microphone over. “I must admit, this feels rather strange,” he began in a rather strained voice. “But then this whole case has been bizarre. There have been several recent developments, and I have called this meeting to bring you all up to speed. I have been in consultation with prosecutor Henry Firth, and Dr. Barney Nathan, and here is what we know.

“First off, prosecutor Firth is not only in accord with, but it is on his recommendation that the murder and assault charges against Daniel Hurley have been dropped. As a show of good faith, and on advice of counsel, Daniel Hurley has signed a waiver of false arrest. But none of that, as Judge Hobbs has pointed out, would be a bar to future prosecution.

“And from Dr. Barney Nathan I have the following news.” Chief Harper’s manner made it clear that no matter how much the prosecutor and doctor were cooperating, he was not about to let either speak. “The condition of Harvey Beerbaum, the man brutally attacked two nights ago, has been upgraded from critical to stable. He would appear to be out of danger. He has not yet regained consciousness. However, when he does we are hoping he can shed some light on the attack.

“The blood on the knife Daniel Hurley attempted to dispose of has been typed to the blood of the decedent Annabel Hurley. DNA testing is yet to be done, but there is every indication we will get a match, and the knife will prove to be the murder weapon.”

Chief Harper winced at the excited buzz that statement produced. Judge Hobbs assisted him by banging the gavel.

“I know,” Chief Harper continued. “This new evidence would not seem consistent with letting Daniel Hurley go. However, further evidence has come to light. I know you are all aware of the contents of Emma Hurley’s will. She left a puzzle for her heirs to solve, and appointed the Puzzle Lady, Cora Felton, as the judge and referee. Emma Hurley charged Miss Felton with solving the puzzle first. I might even say, she
challenged
Miss Felton to do so.

“Well, I am happy to announce that, this morning, Miss Felton solved the puzzle. And in so doing, uncovered a key piece of evidence. She is going to present that evidence to you now. Miss Felton?”

Cora Felton got up from her seat at the defense table, walked to the witness stand and sat down. Her eyes were bright, her manner dignified.

“Thank you very much, Chief Harper.”

She opened her drawstring purse, took out a manila envelope, pulled the microphone to her.

“I discovered this envelope early this morning. It is the final piece of the puzzle. Written on the envelope are the words,
Last Clue.
Underneath, just in case there was any doubt, are the words,
Yes, this is it.
In the envelope is Emma Hurley’s final communication to her heirs. I shall read it to you now.”

Cora Felton pulled the pages from the envelope and began to read.

“
Congratulations. You have won the game. Are you familiar with the term
Pyrrhic victory?
If you’ve gotten this far, I would imagine you probably are. But in case you aren’t, another way to put it is: you’ve won the battle but lost the war.

“
Unless you’re Chester.

“
Is it you, Chester? Somehow I doubt it. I can’t see you caring enough, at least about the money. But you might just want to know. And maybe that would be enough. So maybe it’s you. If so, you will probably understand what I’ve said. Though in your case it will not apply.

“
But if it’s one of the other heirs. Particularly Philip or Phyllis. I almost hope it is. It pleases me no end, the thought of one of you reading this now. You, whose sibling rivalry is unparalleled. I can imagine the lengths you must have gone to to get here. Clawing and sniping at each other. Using every underhanded, dirty trick in the book. Lying. Cheating. Making up stories. Hurling false accusations. I wouldn’t even rule out accusing each other of murdering me. Though I can’t imagine anyone foolish enough to believe such a stupid premise.
”

   Cora Felton cleared her throat.

“
But down to business. I presented you with a forty-year-old puzzle. I now present you with its solution. You have earned the solution by ignoring the elaborate trappings I laid out. The mysterious treasure hunt that led nowhere. The cont yountest that wasn’t a contest, but was made to look so by the dramatic and extravagant gesture of hiring a judge. Extravagant in one sense, though if you are reading this, she has undoubtedly earned her fee.

“
And what, you ask, is she rambling about? Why can’t the old crone be direct? She tells us we’ve won, but we haven’t won. What can she possibly mean?

“
It was just over forty years ago that my father, Evan Hurley, died. He had been sick for some time with cancer, though not as long as he would have lasted nowadays. As the disease ate him up, he surveyed his life.

“
And made his will.

“
You are familiar with the terms of that will. Evan cut his other heirs off with fixed sums, and left the bulk of his estate to me. I’m sure you know why.