Authors: Parnell Hall
“In her house. Or
your
house, if I understand correctly.”
“Were you this antagonistic with her?”
“I took Becky along to make sure I behaved myself. She only had to wrestle me to the ground once.”
“Did you find anything I’d overlooked?”
“Is that the same as ‘neglected to mention’?”
“Aside from the puzzle on the refrigerator. Did you find any evidence?”
“No.”
“Can this keep till tonight?”
“Sure, but we won’t be discussing it then.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’ll be in the city. Your bodyguard duties are over. We Bakerhaven people can do quite well on our own.”
“I understand you’re upset, but this is serious. We’re dealing with a killer.”
“I’ll be fine. I’m armed, and Bakerhaven’s finest are ever vigilant.”
“Bakerhaven’s finest consist of one officer doing a drive-by once or twice a night.”
“There’s an advantage to that.”
“What?”
“They don’t sleep over.”
“All right. Stay here. I’ll put you in a hotel with an armed guard at the door.”
“And will you come tiptoeing in on little cat feet to try to talk some sense into me?”
“I won’t go near the place. I’ll be busy catching up on all the work that’s gone to hell while I was out of town.”
“So now I’ve wrecked your career.”
“You’ve certainly put a damper on my day. Aside from everything else, I’ve gotta worry about you getting killed.”
“I’m sorry if that’s a distraction.”
“Look. Stay in town. Meet me after work. We’ll talk this over.”
Cora chuckled. “Yeah, sure. That reminds me of something I used to tell Melvin toward the end of the marriage.”
“What’s that?”
“Not tonight, dear, I’ve got a headache.”
Chapter
42
Jennifer spun in
a circle, fell to the floor, and giggled hysterically.
The audience, consisting of Cora, Sherry, and Aaron, laughed and applauded.
“For an encore she does pratfalls,” Aaron said.
“That wasn’t a pratfall?” Cora said.
“Not at all,” Sherry said. “That was a perfectly choreographed ballet move.”
“You’re grooming her to be a ballerina?”
“She can be whatever she wants,” Sherry said.
“As long as she stays away from teenage boys,” Aaron added.
“Teenage boys? She isn’t even two.”
“Hey, it’s our little girl. You gotta start teaching ’em young.”
“And by the time they’re sixteen, they’re smoking dope and have a nose ring and tattoos.”
“Don’t give her any ideas,” Sherry said.
“Right,” Cora said. “Her eyes lit up just at the mention.”
“So, when’s that cop showing up?” Aaron said.
“He’s not.”
“Really? How come?”
Cora shrugged. “Guess we’re just not that important anymore. Killer’s turned his attention to the city. Broke into Crowley’s apartment and the house of his ex-wife. That’s undoubtedly who they’re protecting.”
“Do you think they’re in any danger?” Sherry said.
“How should I know? We’re dealing with a lunatic who doesn’t seem to have much sense of purpose. Just gets off on terrorizing people. There’s no telling why he’s doing what he’s doing, he’s just doing it. Anyway, he seems to have moved on.”
“So no one’s guarding the house?”
“I’m guarding the house. Unless you want Dan Finley to hang out all night. I assure you, I’ll do a much better job.”
A sharp sound made Cora jump. But it was not the killer breaking in. It was Jennifer knocking an ornate paperweight off an end table. She immediately burst into tears.
Sherry leapt up. “Oh, my God, is she all right?”
“She’s just scared,” Aaron said.
“It fell on her foot.”
“It never touched her.”
“I knew we should get rid of that paperweight.”
Cora smiled. If Sherry knew that, she had never voiced her opinion.
Sherry whisked Jennifer away from the scene of the trauma, carried her back to her end.
Aaron shook his head. “Jennifer coddling.”
“What?” Cora said.
“That’s like mollycoddling, only with Jennifer.”
“Aaron. Take a tip from me. That’s one of those remarks that is amusing only to people who are not your wife.”
“I know,” Aaron said. “Sherry’s just upset. About the cop not being here. Not that she thought we needed him. She thought it was stupid. But you take him away, it’s like cutting a lifeline.”
“I understand,” Cora said. “But in terms of a bodyguard, I’m not sure that cop was very effective. The guy was snoring before my head ever hit the pillow.”
Aaron followed Sherry out to the addition, leaving Cora alone with her thoughts. Which wasn’t good. She was still in a state of mind where being in a bar might be dangerous. Just being alone in the
house
might have been dangerous, had there been any source of temptation, but there had been no liquor on the premises ever since Cora got sober. Sherry might have some cooking wine, but Cora wasn’t tempted to look for it. That was the sort of thing she’d do only once she’d begun drinking and run out of booze. It was never a place to start.
Always a first time.
The phrase ran though Cora’s mind, had a chilling effect.
Cora glanced around.
Why the hell was she in the kitchen? Her feet led her there. Not powered by any conscious thought. Just wandering aimlessly. So why was she there?
Ah. Hot cocoa. That’s the ticket. That would be comforting. A good way to fall asleep. Get in bed with a nice cup of hot chocolate.
Cora frowned. How did you make hot chocolate, anyway? Sherry’d always made it. How did she do it? With milk? With water? Definitely with chocolate. What kind of chocolate? Not chocolate syrup. Powdered chocolate. That’s right. A tin of powdered chocolate. You pried the top off with a spoon. Let’s see. That would be in a cupboard, wouldn’t it?
Cora opened the cupboard. Encountered a myriad of spices and condiments. None large enough to be a tin of chocolate.
Cora closed the cupboard door. Turned to the other wall. Three cupboard doors beckoned to her. Too many choices. Way too hard. She didn’t want cocoa anyway.
Cora slumped down at the kitchen table. Her eyes misted over. She put her head in her hands.
“Cora?” Sherry stood in the doorway. She looked concerned. “What’s wrong?”
Cora waved her hand. “I was going to make cocoa, but I forgot how to do it.”
“You didn’t forget. You never do it. You want cocoa, I’ll make some.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Aaron’s got Jennifer. I snuck out.”
Sherry pulled open the middle cupboard door, took out a can of Nesquik. She popped the top. “Here, I’ll join you. Girls’ night out.”
Sherry put heaping spoonfuls into two cups, added water, stirred it around, filled the cups with milk.
“Oh. Water
and
milk,” Cora said.
Sherry popped one cup in the microwave, zapped it forty-five seconds on high. “I don’t know about this. Hot cocoa’s going to put you to sleep. What with you being the bodyguard, and all.”
Cora said nothing.
Sherry looked at her. “What’s wrong?”
The microwave beeped. Sherry took out the coffee cup, tested it with her finger, slid it in front of Cora, and zapped her own.
“Come on, Cora, what’s up?”
“Brenda’s pregnant.”
Sherry’s eyes widened. “What?”
Cora couldn’t meet her eyes. “You got me worried about Dennis, talking about who might have a grudge against you. You know it’s nothing, I know it’s nothing. I still checked it out.”
“Brenda’s pregnant?”
“Yeah. You didn’t hear it from me. She wanted to be the one to tell you. I said I wouldn’t say anything.”
“Cora, that’s not good.”
“I know, I know. Of course that’s how you feel.”
“What’s she going to do?”
“She’s going to have a baby. It’s not the end of the world. Other women have done it.”
“But—”
“It’s okay. I went there to check Dennis out. Guess what? He passed. I don’t know what happened, but the fact is, he’s moved on. He’s not thinking about your family, he’s thinking about his. It doesn’t mean I won’t keep tabs on him, and at the slightest sign of trouble I’ll violate his parole. But there’s every indication this is a good thing.”
“I wish I could believe that.”
“I know. You get bad news so often, you can’t believe good news when it comes. Look. Take your cocoa, go back to bed. Tell Aaron you’re upset because Brenda’s pregnant. He’ll think of something absurdly comforting to say.”
“Like what?”
“It doesn’t matter, just as long as he’s saying it. You’ll obsess about it and you’ll go to sleep. You’ll call Brenda tomorrow and let her tell you. She’ll say Dennis is changed. You won’t be impressed, because you’ve heard it before, but something will be different and you’ll pick up on it because you’re very good.”
Cora took her hot chocolate into her room, got in bed. Despite the warm liquid, she did not feel tired. If anything, she was more keyed up than ever.
Brenda’s pregnant. She hadn’t meant to tell Sherry that. She meant to let Brenda tell her. But Sherry’d seen she was upset, and she had to say something. She didn’t want to talk about Crowley, didn’t want to bring it up. She brought up Dennis instead. Selfishly. Making Sherry upset rather than upset herself. Had she really done that?
Cora sipped the cocoa. It wasn’t making her drowsy. She wondered if she should take a sleeping pill. She wondered if she
had
a sleeping pill. Not that she wanted to be asleep. She just didn’t want to be awake. Not now. Not till the morning. Things would look better in the morning. Like that song from
Annie.
She hated that song. So damn optimistic, you just had to be a pessimist to sing it.
She was never going to fall asleep.
Chapter
43
Cora’s eyes snapped
open. Someone was in the house. She was sure of it. Buddy wasn’t barking. There was no sound, no movement, no light, except the glow from the digital clock.
Cora raised her head, took a look. 2:15. How long had she been asleep? It couldn’t have been long. She thought she’d
never
fall asleep. But she must have.
Could she have dreamed it?
Cora reached for the night table, groped for her gun. She picked it up, felt an immediate sense of relief. She was
not
helpless. He was armed, and she was taking action.
Cora reached back to the night table, switched on the light.
It lit him up in bold relief. Framed in the doorway, an angel of death. He was thin and wiry, dressed all in black, some formfitting material that accentuated his muscles.
He had a stocking over his head, just as he had before. He was not holding a gun, or any other weapon. His hands were empty. And yet from his posture he seemed very much in control.
Cora pointed her gun. “Who are you?” she demanded.
He chuckled. “You don’t know? It’s going to eat at you that you couldn’t figure it out.”
It was the first time she’d heard his voice. It was not familiar, didn’t help her at all.
“Oh, what fun I’ve had with you. Crossword puzzles. Sudoku. All the things you thrive on. What fun, beating you at your own game. Watching you chase your tail, like a stupid dog.”
At her reaction, he said, “Oh, your stupid dog will be fine, by the way, as soon as he wakes up from the ether. You want a watchdog, you really could do better. Too bad you won’t be around to profit from the advice.”
“You’re mighty cocky, considering I’m the one holding the gun.”
“You’re not going to shoot me. You want to know what happened. It’s got to be driving you crazy. A puzzle that you can’t solve.”
Cora was actually glad to hear that. Whatever else the man knew, apparently he didn’t know she couldn’t solve crosswords.
“You’re obviously too smart for me. Tell me where I went wrong.”
“No. Then you’d feel free to shoot me, and I don’t intend to be shot.”
“What do you intend to do?”
“I thought I’d make you suffer and die. That’s certainly the sequence. I mean, you can’t die and then suffer.”
“And just how are you going to accomplish that?”
“I’m not really sure. I’ve never tortured anyone before. But I did some research. Painful methods of interrogation. Not that I want you to tell me anything. That’s part of the fun. Nothing you do will stop the pain.”
He tapped the black leather pouch he carried on his belt. “There’s enough in here to do the job. From what I’ve read, it should be pretty effective. Be interesting to see if what I’ve learned is true. There’s only so much you can tell from reading. After a while you need lab experiments.”
Cora started to speak, but caught herself. The man was delusional, clearly insane. And yet she didn’t want to shoot him. But she would if he tried to cut her. What did he have in that bag? Scalpels? Dental equipment, like Laurence Olivier in
Marathon Man
? If he tried anything like that, she would shoot him. Cora hated going to the dentist under any circumstances. A lunatic with no novocaine was not her idea of a good time.
“Weighing your options?” he said mockingly. “You don’t have any. Right now the only thing you’ve got going for you is I like playing with your mind. Otherwise, I could have killed you in your sleep. You do realize that, don’t you? If that were the object, there was nothing to stop me. I could have smothered you with a pillow, shot you in the head, administered a lethal dose by hypodermic. No, I wanted you alive.”
“Too bad the feeling isn’t mutual.”
“Oh, you are so good with words, aren’t you? The celebrated Puzzle Lady. How well you’ve done all these years, with your newspaper columns and TV commercials. And number puzzles, too. There is no end to your accomplishments. I haven’t been so lucky. But then, how could I, thanks to you.”
He cocked his head. “No clue? I love it. ‘Puzzle Lady Doesn’t Have a Clue.’ There’s a headline for that reporter who married your niece. Well, not that headline, but I wonder if he’ll write the story. He won’t want to, but he’ll have to. It’ll be news. I wonder if anyone will figure it out. They should, but by then I’ll be long gone.”