NYPD Puzzle (18 page)

Cora picked up the police report. Stopped. Frowned. “That’s funny.”

“What?” Harper said.

“I’ve got Dan’s police report here.”

“Something wrong with my report?” Dan said.

“It’s been stapled.”

“Dan,” Chief Harper said. “Didn’t I tell you to paper-clip?”

Dan shrugged. “Sometimes I can’t find a paper clip.”

“No,” Cora said. “It
was
stapled. It’s not anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“Someone removed the staple.”

Harper stared at her. “Do you mean—?”

Cora nodded. “I’d say this file’s been copied.”

Chapter

32

Becky answered on
the second ring. “Hello?”

“Oh, good, you’re awake,” Cora said.

“Why wouldn’t I be awake?”

“I wasn’t.”

“What?”

“Feel like a drink?”

“What’s up?”

“Well, the police station’s been broken into.”

“What?”

“There’s a few things I need to catch you up on. Wanna meet me at the Country Kitchen? I’ll buy you a drink.”

“Oh.”

“What’s the matter?”

“I was in the middle of a TV show. No matter. I got a DVR. I’ll hit record and be right with you.”

Becky found Cora at the bar of the Country Kitchen nursing a Coke.

“What’ll you have?” Cora said.

“Scotch on the rocks.”

“Whoa. What happened to the frozen daiquiri whatever or the crème de ladylike mush?”

“That’s for show. For something of this kind, I need a jolt of hard liquor.”

“Something of what kind?”

“Didn’t you say the police station had been broken into?”

“Oh, that. No problem. I figured out who did it.”

“You’re kidding! Who?”

“The killer.”

“Ooh, pooh.”

“Well, that’s something, isn’t it? It could have been unrelated. I proved it wasn’t.”

“How did you do that?”

Cora told Becky about the missing staple.

“That’s pretty flimsy evidence to hang a deduction on.”

“Granted.”

Becky shook her head disparagingly. “That’s what you brought me out here to tell me?”

“No.”

“Well, what then?” Becky took a sip of scotch.

“I’m sleeping with Sergeant Crowley.”

Becky did a spit-take. Scotch showered the bar.

The bartender looked over.

“Got a towel?” Cora said. “My friend choked on her drink.”

The bartender came over and mopped it up. “You still got some?” he asked Becky. “Can I get you another?”

“I’m fine,” Becky said, smiling at him. “It just went down the wrong way.” As the bartender retreated, she lowered her voice. “Are you nuts? Are you out of your mind? That’s the officer in charge of your case.”

“Yeah. I thought it might be a good idea to ingratiate myself.”

“Don’t make me spit more scotch. A good idea? Do you have any idea how
bad
an idea that is?”

“No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

“It’s the worst idea ever. Short of confessing to the crime. You didn’t do
that,
did you? Just to try to get a rise out of him.”

“No pun intended.”

“You’re hopeless. It’s like having a two-year-old for a client.”

“Wanna calm down and look at this rationally?”

“Look at what? The case is out the window and you’re off on a schoolgirl fling.”

“You really need to get out more, Becky. Your intolerance of other people’s relationships is an unattractive trait.”

Becky chugged the rest of her scotch. “There. I’m out of ammunition. Anything else you wanna surprise me with isn’t going to work.”

“Good. Here’s the situation: I got the inside dope on this crime. The killer is tracking me,
and
he’s tracking Sergeant Crowley. He sent us a sudoku while we were in a coffee shop. He could have been following me, but he also sent him a puzzle at the precinct before I even got there. He also tacked a puzzle to my door, and broke into the police station. The killer is a busy little beaver. Considering we haven’t got a single thing on him, he’s working awful hard.”

“So?”

Cora shrugged. “Why? Why is he breaking into town hall and the police station? What does he hope to accomplish? We have no idea. None.” She raised her finger. “And we don’t even have a viable suspect.”

“What do you mean?”

“Normally there would be someone involved in the case. An ex-wife. A girlfriend. A next-door neighbor. A friend.”

“A suspect?”

“Not even a suspect. A perfectly ordinary innocent bystander. Who would turn out to have a secret motive no one would ever suspect. Who is that person in this case? Can you name one?”

“I don’t know the dead man’s circle of acquaintances. I’m a small-town girl. He’s a big shot from New York.”

“Exactly. We can’t investigate him. And the police
won’t
investigate him, because they already have their chief suspect. Me. But that’s changing. Crowley and I are working the case together. Not that he’s cleared me, or anything.”

“You’re sleeping with this guy so he’ll help you investigate the case?”

“Don’t be silly. That’s just one of the fringe benefits.” Cora shook her head. “You really do need to get into a relationship. Maybe you could lure Dr. Nathan away from his wife again.”

“That’s not even funny.”

“It’s a
little
funny. Maybe not spit-your-scotch-on-the-bar funny, but it’s a little funny.” Cora signaled the bartender. “Another scotch for the young lady.”

“You have another revelation planned?” Becky said. “The victim is your secret love child?”

“Oh,
there’s
a revelation. The son I never knew I had. That works better with men, though. Women usually know if they’ve had a child.”

“Not you, goosey.”

“Well, who then?”

“I don’t know. How about Sergeant Crowley?”

Cora’s mouth fell open. “Oh, you naughty girl. Paying me back for the Dr. Nathan crack.”

“Well, who’d have more reason to humiliate the sergeant than the love child he never acknowledged?”

Cora shook her head. “Crossword puzzle at the crime scene. Prior to Crowley catching the case.”

“He’s a sergeant. He doesn’t catch the case. Another detective does and reports to him.”

“Are you seriously considering that as a possibility?”

“No, I’m just pointing out we have no
other
possibilities.”

“Except me.”

“Wow,” Becky said. “Interesting concept. You talk the guy into hiring me, knowing I’ll bring you along. On the day of the murder, you drive to New York, kill him, rush back just in time to drive to New York again with me. We get there, go upstairs, find the apartment door open—of which you are well aware, having left it that way. We go in and find the body, with the crossword puzzle you have carefully planted. You pretend you hear something in the bedroom, rush in there, fire a couple of shots out the window, come back, and claim the killer just escaped.”

Cora smiled, patted her hand. “Nice try. The doorman called upstairs and spoke to the killer.” She cocked her head. “It’s not like you to miss a small detail like that.”

“Well, you drop a bombshell on me about sleeping with the sergeant.”

“What bombshell? It’s perfectly foreseeable. Why do you think he let us go in the first place?”

“Oh, listen to you now. As if the thought ever crossed his mind.”

“Well, not consciously. But even you couldn’t understand why he let us go.” Cora changed the subject. “Anyway, I found out something.”

“What’s that?”

“Dennis isn’t guilty.”

Cora told Becky about meeting Dennis Pride. She left out the part about Brenda being pregnant.

“I told you he’d cleaned up his act,” Becky said.

“I had to see for myself.”

“And?”

“I’m totally sold. Not that he didn’t do it. I
know
he didn’t do it. I mean that he’s cleaned up his act.”

“How could you tell?”

“He was genuinely glad to see me.”

“Whereas most people hate your guts. I can see the logic.”

“Hey, I know he’s a detestable, conniving son of a bitch, but I tend to believe him. Anyway, he was never a suspect to begin with. I just hope I can sell Chief Harper on that idea. It won’t be easy. Harper’s desperate for a lead.”

“No kidding. It looks bad on your record when the police station’s broken into. Makes for an uncomfortable TV interview.”

“Oh. That reminds me. We are
not
telling Rick Reed.”

“How come?”

“I promised the chief I wouldn’t. After all,
he
doesn’t think I’m guilty.”

“Sergeant Crowley does?”

“I wouldn’t think so, under the circumstances. Of course, men can justify just about anything when sex is involved.”

“Oh,” Becky said. “Tough talker. I think you really like the guy.”

Cora shrugged. “I liked all of them in the beginning.” She waggled her hand. “Except maybe Melvin.”

Chapter

33

Cora was unhappy
driving home. For a lot of reasons. In the first place, she was driving home. Instead of spending the night at Sergeant Crowley’s. Which any girl old enough to have flown the nest would be doing. At least Cora would. Good men didn’t come along that often. Hell, at her age,
mediocre
men didn’t come along that often.

Not that she was old. Cora subscribed to the idea you’re only as old as you feel. She also subscribed to the idea that having to say that meant you were old.

The real reason she was upset was that she told Becky Baldwin about Sergeant Crowley. She didn’t have to do that. Becky didn’t have a boyfriend. It was like rubbing her nose in it. Cora knew why she’d done it, trying to bounce back after Barney Nathan. Letting people
know
she’d bounced back after Barney Nathan was somehow important to her. And the number of people she could tell was limited. Sherry wouldn’t understand. Well, she would, but she wouldn’t approve. It would also make her nervous—anything involving the police did. Though, Cora realized, that wasn’t really fair. Sherry had a child to raise, and protect, and obsess about. A little girl to shield from her crazy aunt’s exploits. Sherry’d be projecting it on her. Imagining her sweet little girl being led astray by the wicked policeman.

Cora drove in the driveway. The addition was dark, with the exception of a flickering light, most likely from the television, in Sherry and Aaron’s window. They were in bed, just as Cora would have been if the police station hadn’t been broken into. Or if she didn’t have a damn curfew. If it weren’t for that, she’d not only be in bed, she’d be in a different bed entirely and life would be good. Chief Harper wouldn’t have found her. Even if he’d called Crowley, the sergeant wouldn’t have admitted she was there. She’d have gotten the news about the break-in without having to do anything about it. And she’d cuddle with her man, and all would be right with the world.

Life wasn’t fair.

Cora got out of the car and slammed the door. Regretted it immediately. No reason to wake Sherry and Aaron if they’d fallen asleep in front of the TV. That was one of the joys of having a TV in your bedroom, you could fall asleep watching a show. Cora wondered if she should put one in hers. After all, fair was fair. The sudoku books were doing well. Why the hell not? It would give her something to do in bed.

Cora grimaced at the thought. It kind of took the joy out of the whole idea.

Cora went in, locked the door, and switched off the living room lights. She considered detouring into the kitchen for a cup of coffee. Rejected the idea. There was none, and she’d have to make it. More trouble than it was worth.

Cora made her way down the hallway, guided by the light from the bedroom. Only it wasn’t just from the bedroom. There was a light coming from the office as well.

Cora blinked. She hadn’t turned on the light in the office. Why should she? And she hadn’t gone to bed with it on. It would have kept her awake. Hell, even the faintest light from the kitchen kept her awake. She always had to get up and turn it off. Or close her bedroom door. And with Sherry and Aaron upstairs, she liked to leave it open. So by rights, the light should be off.

Cora looked in the door.

The computer was running. The screen saver was on, so she couldn’t tell what program was open.

Cora frowned. There was no reason for Sherry to be using her computer. As far as Sherry knew, Cora was asleep. And Sherry had her own computer upstairs. Unless Aaron was using it. But he had no reason to; he had a laptop. And even if he
was
using it, what was so damn urgent Sherry couldn’t wait?

Cora went over, clicked the mouse.

Roused from its sleep, the computer yawned, stretched, made waking-up noises. It flashed twice, once with a blank screen, once with a screen unknown outside of computer geek circles. With a whir, the program opened and the image on the screen was restored.

It was a crossword puzzle.