The PI’s car was in the deep underbrush behind the old paper mill, a half mile north of the Tastee Freez. The overgrown service road was almost never used, except as a lovers’ lane. Searching the woods around it had been an inspired guess.
“You sure it’s his car?” Harper said.
Dan seemed offended by the question. “It’s his license plate,” he said, somewhat defensively.
“You search the car?”
“It’s locked.”
“You didn’t jimmy the door?”
“I waited for you.”
“Good man. Do me a favor. Don’t tell the TV guys till we check it out.”
Harper, Dan, and Cora picked their way through the underbrush. Cora’s legs were getting all scratched up by nettles, but she wasn’t about to miss it. She was right behind when the officers reached the car.
Chief Harper pulled on thin rubber gloves. “Don’t touch anything,” he warned. He took out a metal jimmy, fitted it in the crack in the driver’s-side window, popped the door.
The horrendous wail of a car alarm filled the air.
Harper reached in, fiddled with something under the dashboard, and the wailing stopped.
“That’s pretty neat,” Cora said. “I don’t suppose you could show me how to do that?”
Harper gave her a look. He leaned down, popped the latch. Walked around to the back and raised the trunk.
Dan whistled.
Cora leaned forward to look.
It was an old ax. The wooden handle was rotten and covered with moss. Like something pulled off a junk heap.
The blade was crusted with dried blood.
Harper nodded. “That’s our weapon, all right. Looks like the killer just used it because it was there.” He frowned. “I don’t mean that as dumb as it sounds.”
“It won’t sound dumb to a defense attorney. It would argue against premeditation. Anything else?”
“No. Let’s check out the seats.”
The front seat yielded nothing but some rather foul air. Harper popped the rear door. Cora peered in. There was nothing on the seat, but there was something in the shadows on the floor.
Chief Harper leaned over her shoulder. “What’s that?”
“I don’t know. But it smells like hell.”
“Hang on,” Dan said, “I got a flashlight.”
Dan pulled the light off his belt, shone it on the floor.
It was a human eye.
“What does the car tell us?”
“I’m glad you asked me that.”
“Why?”
“It means I can smoke.” Cora reached in her purse, took out her cigarettes.
Harper didn’t even put up a token resistance. He tipped back in his desk chair, said, “Come on. What does it mean?”
Cora lit a cigarette, blew out the match. “The car tells us a lot. It’s not that far from the Tastee Freez. Whoever ditched it probably walked back to the Tastee Freez. Which means the killing took place at the Tastee Freez.”
“In that case,” Harper said, “why isn’t the body in the car? You’re gonna ditch the car, why don’t you ditch the body?”
“It could be a lot of reasons. One, the killer wants it found.”
“Why?”
“Say it was incriminating. Not to the killer. To someone the killer wanted to incriminate.”
“Who?”
“Exactly. Body in the boondocks is a sticky problem for X. X equals guilty-looking-innocent-person. Solve for X.”
“That’s no help at all.”
“No. But it’s nice to have the problem correctly stated.”
“What’s another reason?”
“Expedience. The guy wasn’t killed in the car. So when the killer ditches the car, the body’s not in it.”
“But the guy’s eye
is
?”
“Of course it is. If the eye’s found with the body, it’s obvious the murder took place there. The killer wants to make it look like the body was dumped. The eye’s gotta go, so the killer throws it in the car. Same with the murder weapon. So we won’t know where the guy was killed.”
“But when we find it in the car, we’ll know. So why not just get rid of it?”
“We’ll know anyway. If the body was dumped, the guy’s car is most likely gathering parking tickets somewhere in Manhattan. The minute we find the car close to the crime scene, it’s clear what happened, eye or no eye. So why bother ditching it elsewhere? Which couldn’t be much fun. Of course, I’m no expert. I’ve never disposed of an eye.”
“What’s the point of ditching the car at all? The killer must know it’s going to be found.”
“Yeah, but not for a while. Ditching the car serves two purposes. It will be longer before the body’s found, and longer before the car’s found. The killer doesn’t mind if they’re found, he just doesn’t want them found right away.”
“Why?”
“Gee, I don’t know. Can you think of anyone who’s visiting town, and won’t be here long?”
“So, we’re back to the Japanese.”
Cora shrugged. “Who else had reason to hire a detective?”
“I have no idea.” Harper sighed. “This is the point where you whip out the crossword puzzle, solve it, and tell me who to arrest.”
“Been there, done that. The crossword puzzle fingers Hideki. You’ve arrested him already.”
“I know.” Harper cocked his head. “What about the other puzzle?”
“What other puzzle?”
“The one we found in the safe.”
Cora made a face. “That was a stupid Puzzle Lady puzzle. It didn’t mean anything.”
“Stupid?”
“Hey, just because it pays the rent doesn’t mean I gotta like it.”
“The puzzle was in the guy’s safe. It ought to mean something.”
“I solved it. It doesn’t.”
Harper got up, went to the file cabinet.
“What are you doing?”
“It’s not that I don’t trust your hunches,” Harper said, “but this is personal. It’s your column. It’s your puzzle. You’re apt to be influenced.”
“It’s a puzzle in the paper. If it means anything, I’ll eat it.”
Harper took out a plastic evidence bag with the newspaper inside. “Okay, can you solve it again?”
A chill ran down Cora’s spine. Did she remember what the puzzle said enough to fill it in? Not likely.
She kept her cool. “All that matters is the theme answer,” she said, smoothly. “That’s, ‘If he cries, and feels low. He needs help. Help him go.’ It’s advice on how to deal with a moody, annoying ex, and doesn’t mean a damn thing.”
“Suppose it wasn’t the crossword puzzle,” Chief Harper said, “which made the paper important. Suppose it was something else. Like the headline on page one.”
Cora picked up the plastic envelope, said, “May I?”
“Be my guest.”
Cora slid the newspaper out, flipped it open to the front page. “Well, for one thing, this is the
Bakerhaven Gazette.
”
“Really?”
“You didn’t notice? Well, it is. That’s a pretty good indication whoever hired the detective either lives in Bakerhaven or was in Bakerhaven when the paper came out.”
“Which is what we figured,” Harper said. “Anything else?”
“Not much. Coverage of the war. National news. Nothing even remotely connected to anything here or in New York. And—”
“What?”
“This is
Wednesday’s
paper.”
“So?”
“The detective was dead Wednesday.” Cora held up the newspaper. “How did this get in his safe?”
Aaron was defensive. “Why do you want to know?”
“Are you kidding? This is a murder case.”
“I don’t see what this has to do with it.”
Cora Felton jerked her thumb toward the door of Aaron’s office.
“Want me to ask your editor?”
“Leave my editor alone. It’s bad enough you barging in here when I should be working. How am I going to get married if you get me fired?”
“How are you going to get married if you keep brushing off the bride?”
“Excuse me?”
“You think you’re acting in Sherry’s best interests. You’re not. You’re reacting to Dennis, and it’s stupid as hell. Dennis doesn’t
want
Sherry to get married. He wants to throw a monkey wrench into the plans. And you’re helping him do it. Every time you run around acting like a jealous nitwit, Dennis wins. You’ve been acting pretty stupid lately.”
“Now, look here.”
Cora put up her hands. “No. We’re beyond that. Way beyond that. We’ve got two murders, more suspects than you can shake a stick at, and a whole bunch of clues that don’t add up. I’m trying to sort things out, and, believe me, it isn’t easy. So quit stalling and give me a straight answer.”
Aaron frowned. “When do we go to press?”
“That’s the
question.
What’s the
answer
?”
“It depends. A normal day, we’re rolling by five or six. If something’s breaking, it might not be till midnight.”
“Once you’re rolling, how soon before the first paper comes off the press? Say you wanted to bring a copy home.”
“I wouldn’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“I get it delivered,” Aaron said. “Why should I wait around?”
“Why indeed? But it wouldn’t be that long, would it?”
“Not at all. Why?”
Cora ignored the question. “Look, Aaron. I need your cooperation. Here’s the deal. I’ve got to solve this thing, and to do that I need Dennis here.”
Aaron opened his mouth to protest, but Cora cut him off. “I don’t want to hear it. I know what I have to do. I’m going to take legal action. It won’t be easy, and I can’t have you messing things up. So how about it? Can I count on you? Because I really need your help.”
Aaron exhaled. “All right. What do you want me to do?”
Cora shrugged. “Why don’t you confess?”
Judge Hobbs looked out over the crowded courtroom and frowned. Every available seat was filled, people were standing in the back, and Rick Reed and the channel 8 news team were covering the proceedings.
“Why are we here?” the elderly jurist demanded.
Cora Felton, clad in her finest Miss Marple attire, curtsied and smiled. “Your Honor. I am here to petition the court for a stay in the matter of the restraining order prohibiting Dennis Pride from coming within a hundred yards of his ex-wife, Sherry Carter.”
“You want me to lift the restraining order?”
“Temporarily, Your Honor. Just temporarily, until we can clear things up. You will take note Mr. Pride is seated at the defense table with his attorney, Ms. Baldwin, and his present wife, Brenda Wallenstein Pride.”
“If he’s seeking to lift the restraining order, why isn’t Ms. Baldwin speaking for him?”
Becky rose. “He’s not seeking to lift the restraining order, Your Honor.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Then who is?”
“I am, Your Honor,” Cora said, “on behalf of my niece, Sherry Carter.”
“Your niece is seeking to lift the restraining order?”
“Yes.”
“Then why isn’t she here?”
Cora smiled. “Because of the restraining order, Your Honor. My niece is not allowed within a hundred yards of her ex-husband. Your courtroom is not large enough for the two of them to occupy it at one time. If he’s in here, she has to wait outside.”
“Oh, for goodness sakes,” Judge Hobbs said, irritably. “And who are all these people who
are
here?”
“Witnesses, Your Honor.”
“Witnesses to what?”
“Various aspects of the case.”
“What case?”
“The case I propose to present.”
“You’re not presenting a case.”
“Yes, I am, Your Honor. I’m presenting evidence why the restraining order should be temporarily lifted.”
“For how long?”
“Oh. I hadn’t thought of that. Not long, Your Honor. Say twenty-four hours.”
“Then you don’t
need
witnesses. I will suspend the restraining order for twenty-four hours on my own accord.”
District Attorney Henry Firth rose from the prosecution table, his ratty nose twitching. “I oppose that, Your Honor.”
Judge Hobbs’s mouth fell open. “You what?”
“As the prosecutor, I must strongly oppose such arbitrary action. I insist the restraining order be kept in place.”
“Why would you do that?”
“I have heard no reason why it shouldn’t. This is a serious matter, Your Honor. I must point out that the subject in question is on probation, that the restraining order is one of the provisions of that probation, that breaking the restraining order is grounds for sending the subject in question to jail to serve out his sentence for conviction of—”
Becky Baldwin sprang to her feet. “Object to my client’s record being paraded through open court.”
“How can you object to that when you’re asking that his restraining order be lifted?” Judge Hobbs protested.
“I’m not asking his restraining order be lifted, Your Honor.” Becky order pointed at Cora.
“She
is.”
Judge Hobbs threw up his hands. “God save me!”
“It’s simple, Your Honor,” Henry Firth said. “The prosecution is not about to lift a restraining order on Miss Felton’s say-so. If she has evidence, let her produce it.”
“I do, Your Honor.”
“Harumph,” Judge Hobbs said. “This is most irregular.”
“If I might make a suggestion,” Cora ventured.
“Yes, Ms. Felton.”
“If Your Honor could temporarily waive the restraining order, pending your decision whether or not you will temporarily waive the restraining order, my niece could come into court.”
“You want me to temporarily suspend the ruling we are discussing temporarily suspending?”
“It affects my niece, Your Honor. She ought to be here.”
“Bring her in,” Judge Hobbs said. “I will take judicial cognizance of the fact she is entering my courtroom. I do not wish to have her proximity to her ex-husband pointed out to me. Anyone whipping out a tape measure will be ejected from the court. Is that acceptable, Ms. Baldwin?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“Any objection from the prosecution?”
“No objection to Ms. Carter being allowed into the courtroom. However, I strongly object to waiving the restraining order.”
“Any objection to waiving the restraining order while we debate it?” Judge Hobbs asked drily.
“If I say no, will Your Honor not take that as a concession that I am yielding the point?”
“Never mind,” Judge Hobbs said. “Don’t say yes. Don’t say no. Stand mute. I assure you, your doing so will not reflect one way or another on any matter that might be decided today. Chief Harper, bring the young lady in. If anyone tries to stop you, arrest them.”
Sherry Carter, accompanied by Aaron Grant, was ushered in. Harper moved the camera crew to make room for them.
“All right,” Judge Hobbs said. “Now that we’ve finally admitted the only person in Bakerhaven
not
to be present in my courtroom, let’s deal with those people who are. Ms. Felton, are you prepared to proceed?”
“Yes, Your Honor. At this time I would like to petition the court to lift the restraining order on Dennis Pride.”
“Opposed, Your Honor,” Henry Firth said.
“Very well. Ms. Felton, do you have any evidence to support your petition?”
Cora smiled. “Do I ever.”