The Sudoku Puzzle Murders (4 page)

Read The Sudoku Puzzle Murders Online

Authors: Parnell Hall

Aaron Grant was out back cooking burgers when Cora got home.
“Ah, the intrepid newsman. Nothing can stay him from his appointed task.”
Aaron looked up from the grill. “Cora? Have you been drinking?”
Which wouldn’t have been so bad if his face hadn’t done a 180, trying to choke back the words. “I mean, what are you talking about?”
“It’s all right,” Cora said. “I quit drinking, everybody
knows
I quit drinking, it’s no big
deal
I quit drinking, and, no, I haven’t been drinking. I’m very glad to see you’re cooking burgers. I love burgers.”
“And what’s the bit about me not being swayed from my task?”
“If I tell you, do you promise to keep cooking burgers?”
“Cora.”
“There’s been a murder.”
“What!”
“No big deal,” Cora said. “Some guy from New York City got killed and dumped behind the Tastee Freez.”
Aaron put down his spatula. “I gotta go cover this.”
“No, you don’t. Pick that up. I let the air out of your tires. You’re not going anywhere.”
“You what?!”
“All right, I didn’t. But I might as well have. It’s a small story. The paper’s not going to get out an extra. You got plenty of time to write this up after dinner.”
“They’re doing the layout now.”
“So, call your editor, tell him to hold you two columns on the bottom of the front page.”
“He’ll want me to come in.”
“You can’t come in. You’re out getting the story.”
“Exactly. That’s where I need to be right now.”
“No, you don’t. I got the story. You better flip that one. I like them medium rare.”
“I need all the details. The guy’s name and address. How he died.”
“He had his face bashed in.”
“What?”
“I got it all in my purse. Keep cooking. I’ll dig it out for you.”
Cora hurried into the house, flopped her purse down on the kitchen table. She wrenched the phone off the wall, punched in a number. “Chief, Cora. Help me out here. I need the dead guy’s name and address.”
“What for?”
“The newspaper.”
“You’re writing for the newspaper?”
“No, but I’m hungry.”
“What?”
“Aaron’s cooking, and I don’t want him to stop.”
“Aaron’s cooking?”
“Barbecuing. You ever barbecue, Chief? Come on, give me the name before he burns my damn burger.”
“It’s Walter something. Didn’t you write it down?”
“I need the address.”
Cora hung up the phone just as her niece came into the kitchen. Sherry looked entirely too young, fresh, and perky for her own good. Truly, youth was wasted on the young. With looks like that, Cora could have piled up even more ex-husbands than the ones in whose alimony she reveled.
“Well, he called,” Sherry said.
“Who?”
“The Japanese publisher. He sounded very nice. I’m meeting him at the Country Kitchen to discuss a deal.”
“When?”
“Tonight.”
“Aaron’s cooking burgers.”
“I’m not meeting him for dinner. Just a drink.”
“Does Aaron know you’re going out for a drink with a handsome young businessman?”
“Yeah, right,” Sherry scoffed.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“How young is young?”
“Well, he’s too old for you. I’m sure he won’t see it that way.”
“And he’s too young for you?”
“Bite your tongue.”
“It’s not a date, Cora. The guy was only interested in whether I had your power of attorney.”
“Do you?”
“You’re hopeless. Do you know how much Puzzle Lady business I handle for you?”
“All of it. It’s your own business.”
“Yeah, but no one knows that. So I need your power of attorney. So I can cash the checks that are made out to you that are really for me.”
“You’re giving me a headache. Look, do me a favor. Go out and make sure your boyfriend doesn’t burn the food. I made the mistake of telling him someone got killed. Now he wants to cover the story.”
“That’s his job.”
“You wanna take over cooking?”
“I’m meeting a publisher. Why don’t you cook?”
“I can’t cook.”
“You’ve been married umpteen times and you can’t cook?”
“Trust me, none of my husbands married me for my cooking.”
“Yeah. Well, I gotta get dressed.”
Sherry went down the hall into the bathroom.
The phone rang.
Cora scooped it up. “Hello?”
Hideki Takiyama’s voice said, “Sherry Carter?”
“No. Cora Felton. How are you, Hideki?”
“I am fine. I am calling to speak to Miss Carter.”
“She’s getting dressed. Can it wait till you see her?”
“Wait till I see her?”
“She can’t come to the phone right now. Are you calling to say you can’t make it?”
“No. Not at all.”
“Fine. She’ll see you later.” Cora hung up the phone.
Sherry came out of the bathroom. “Who was that?”
“Your date.”
“What did he want?”
“You. He sounded very eager.”
“Cora.”
“Most men are. Never mind. You get ready for him.” Cora headed for the door. “I’ll make sure your other man doesn’t burn the burgers.”
Sherry spotted him the minute she came in the door. He wasn’t that hard to spot. An Asian man in the Country Kitchen certainly stood out. He was a handsome man, every hair in place, immaculately dressed, not that old, not that young.
His eyes lit up when he saw her. He got up from his bar stool, walked over and introduced himself.
Sherry, impressed, allowed herself to be led to a table.
He summoned a waitress, ordered her a drink.
He waited until the waitress scurried off, then smiled. “You are as attractive as I hoped you would be.”
Flattery made her uncomfortable. Sherry wondered if it was a cultural thing, like being polite. “Forgive me, but have we met?”
“I am sorry to say we have not.”
“Then how did you recognize me?”
He smiled. “You are a bright woman. Can you tell me?”
“Is this a test? To see how I might handle a business deal?”
“I am sure you will handle a business deal very well. But we will not talk of it until you have your drink.”
“All right. You didn’t recognize me. I recognized you. When you
saw
that I had recognized you, you knew who I must be.”
“Yes. Of course. I am Japanese. You know it is me. So I know it is you.”
The waitress slid drinks in front of them.
He raised his glass. “To the book.”
Sherry liked him. He was direct, straightforward, put her at her ease. Sherry was sure she could deal with him. She smiled as she raised her glass.
 
 
From the door to the men’s room, Dennis Pride glared daggers at his ex-wife and companion. Dennis had had a few himself, or he might not have violated the restraining order. He had been a good boy lately, but rumors of Sherry’s wedding persisted, even if no date was set.
Dennis had snuck off that afternoon to practice with his old band, Tune Freaks, just as his wife, Brenda, suspected him of doing. She was always nagging him about it. As if there was anything wrong with playing music. It wasn’t like he was out with another woman. Drinking and laughing in a bar.
Like Sherry and her mystery man. Who the hell was he? It didn’t matter. Whoever he was, Sherry shouldn’t be out with him.
She’d
be sorry.
Sherry was late getting home. She was also a little bit tipsy. Aaron didn’t notice, but Cora spirited her into the office on the pretext of needing her help.
Sherry was giggling when Cora put her in the chair. “What can you possibly want to talk about now?”
“Your wedding?”
“What about my wedding?”
“Don’t blow it.”
“Huh?”
“Sherry, how many drinks did you have?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“No.”
“Did you sign anything?”
“Of course I signed something. That was the whole point.”
“You’re doing a sudoku book?”
“
You’re
doing a sudoku book. I don’t do sudoku. You’re the sudoku person.”
“I solve them. I don’t create them.”
“Construct.”
“Huh?”
“Construct. You don’t construct them.”
“Right. You’re the constructor. I’m the pretty face.”
“And I’m the ugly stepsister.” Sherry giggled.
“Are you drunk?”
“I can’t tell. I’ve had too much to drink.”
“Oh, dear.”
“Cora, I’m fine. I signed a book deal. It’s not like I haven’t done deals with Japan. Different publisher. Same deal. Same advance. Same percent.”
“Except I have to write it.” Cora took Sherry by the shoulders. “Listen to me. You’re engaged to the most calm, broad-minded, rational man in the world. You went out for a business meeting and did absolutely nothing wrong. You didn’t do anything wrong, did you?”
“Of course not.”
“So, you know how a man as understanding as Aaron is going to feel about it?”
“How?”
“Jealous, suspicious, and worried as hell. Men are idiots where women are concerned. If you think Dennis is obsessive, wait’ll you give Aaron a few things to think about.”
“Oh, come on, Cora. How could Aaron mind? A middle-aged Japanese businessman? I mean, he’s very nice, but it was strictly business.”
The phone rang. Cora snatched it up.
It was Hideki Takiyama. “Is Miss Sherry Carter there?”
“Sorry. She’s not available right now,” Cora said, and hung up the phone.
“Who was that?”
“That was your date.”
“Why didn’t you let me talk to him?”
“Because you’re not thinking rationally. If you were, you’d realize you don’t want to talk to him.”
“You’re mean.”
“Yeah, I’m just a Grinch.”
“And you’re jealous.”
Cora grimaced. That was at least partly true. “Come on, sober up. I need your help.”
“Huh?”
Cora pulled the crossword out of her purse, shoved it in Sherry’s face. “Recognize this?”
“Sure. It’s one of the Puzzle Lady columns from last week.”
“Which one?”
“I don’t know. I’d have to solve it.”
“Could you do that for me?”
“Why?”
“The schmuck who got killed had it in his pocket.”
“A photocopy of a Puzzle Lady puzzle?”
“No. A
newspaper
with a Puzzle Lady puzzle. Harper copied the puzzle so I could solve it.”
“Oh, come
on
!”
Cora put up her hands. “What can I tell you? Harper wants me to solve it.
I
know it means nothing.
He
knows it means nothing. He still wants it solved. So I gotta do it. So you gotta do it. So do it.”
“Aw, hell. I don’t even remember this one.”
“You don’t have to remember it. You just have to solve it.” Cora stuck a pencil in Sherry’s hand. “Come on. It’ll sober you up.”
Cora bought a skim latte and a raisin bran muffin at Cushman’s Bakeshop, and carried them down the street to the police station. Chief Harper, who had already finished his muffin, looked enviously at Cora’s.
“What kind of muffin is that?”
“Raisin bran.”
“I thought you like cranberry scones.”
“I do.”
“That’s not a scone.”
“No, it’s a muffin. Sherry had one the other day, and it looked good.”
“Is it?”
“You want a bite of my muffin?”
Harper sighed. “The last thing I need is to get hooked on another kind of muffin.”
“Right. You’d have to start each day making decisions. Horrible for a police chief.”
“Give me a bite.”
Cora broke off a piece of the muffin, handed it over.
“Damn. It
is
good.”
“Yeah. For a woman who can’t bake a lick, Mrs. Cushman has mighty good muffins.”
“Where’s she get her stuff from?”
“Silver Moon. On the Upper West Side. Best bakery in Manhattan.”
Harper considered. “You know, I hate to plunge into a murder case on an empty stomach.”
“Go on, Chief. I’ll hold down the desk until you get back.”
Cora sat in Chief Harper’s chair, studied the notebook open on his desk.
Walter Krebbs. Thirty-eight years of age. Married. Divorced. No children. Apartment in Washington Heights. Drove a 2000 tan Chevy. License plate: FYI 3205.
FYI
made it a plate Cora could remember.
Time of death was listed as twenty-four to forty-eight hours prior to medical examination. That upped the estimate from the twelve Barney Nathan had originally given.
Cora finished the report and was back in her own chair when Chief Harper came in with his muffin and a steaming Styrofoam cup of black coffee.
“Okay,” Harper said. “The world looks a little better now. What can I do for you, Cora?”
“The fellow who got killed.”
Harper shrugged. “What about him?”
“What have you got so far?”
“Just what it says in my case notes.”
“Huh?”
“I assume you read the file while I got my coffee. That saves me having to tell you about it.” Harper gestured to the
Bakerhaven Gazette
on his desk. “So you can feed it to Aaron Grant.”
Cora frowned. “What do mean, feed it to Aaron Grant? I told
you I was checking facts for him. I called you last night to get the name right.”
“Oh, he got the name right,” Chief Harper said drily. “He also got the fact the victim had a crossword puzzle and a sudoku in his pocket.”
“Oh.”
“I thought you told me they don’t mean anything.”
“They don’t.”
“So why am I reading about them in today’s paper?”
“Sorry, Chief. We’re a little thin on facts. No murder weapon. No motive. No suspect. Just a corpse. And most likely the guy wasn’t even killed here. Aaron’s gotta write something.”
“So you gave him the puzzles?”
“They don’t mean anything. What could it hurt?”
“I don’t know. So, did you solve ’em for me?”
“Sure.” Cora reached in her drawstring purse, pulled out the photocopy. “Here’s the puzzle. Remember? ‘
The Puzzle Lady has some advice in case an unexpected guest drops in for dinner.
’”
Harper took it, read, “‘One steak can serve two. Chop it up and make stew.’ And that’s how to deal with an unexpected guest?”
“Yeah. If it sheds any light on your murder, I’ll eat it.”
“Well, ‘chop it up.’ The guy did have his head cut open.”
“Yeah, because of the puzzle,” Cora said, sarcastically. “Good thing it didn’t say put the steak in a Cuisinart.”
“You have a point.” Chief Harper took a bite of muffin. “What about the sudoku?”
“Right here.”
Cora passed it over.
Harper frowned. “What the hell does that mean?”
“Absolutely nothing, Chief. You wanted it solved, so I solved it. But it doesn’t mean a damn thing.”
“I suppose.” Harper cocked his head. “About that publisher …”
“Oh. You check him out?”
“Yeah. Respectable Japanese businessman. Publishes many American authors. Excellent reputation. Eager to make a name for himself. That’s why he’d go out of his way to come here to meet you.”
“I see.”
“So what’s his story? Did you stand the guy up?”
“No. Why?”
“He was in here a half hour ago wanting to know if I’d seen you. Apparently, he’d been asking around, got the impression you hung out here.” Harper shrugged. “I can’t imagine why. You were supposed to sign something. About doing a book.”
“What is he, nuts? Sherry signed it last night.”
“But you didn’t?”
“I don’t have to. She’s got my power of attorney. He knew that.”
“Well, he must have misunderstood. The guy seemed pretty upset.”
The phone rang.
Chief Harper scooped it up. “Bakerhaven police. Harper, here … Really … What did you find? … Can you fax that over? … What about his office? … Any record of who hired him? … Uh-huh. Okay, fax me the records.”
He hung up the phone. “New York police. They still haven’t found the guy’s car. Or any indication where he was killed. Apparently, it wasn’t his home or his office.”
Cora was looking at him. “What was that you were saying about any record of who hired him?”
“Well, it appears the dead man was a private investigator.”
“
Really?
Why wasn’t he carrying any identification?”
Chief Harper said nothing.
“Oh. He
was
carrying ID, but you didn’t see fit to tell me.”
“You didn’t ask.”
“No, I didn’t,” Cora said, drily. “If I had, Aaron could have put it in the paper. Instead of that bit about puzzles.”
“The guy was a PI. We have no idea who hired him or what he was working on at the time of his death. We’ll be going over his records looking for a clue. As soon as we find one, I’ll be sure to pass it on.”
“That’s nice of you, Chief.”
“I’m not holding out on you, Cora. It’s just at the moment, I got nothing to go on.”
“Are you asking me to solve the case for you, Chief?”
“Absolutely not. And you can quote me on that. It’s a police matter, in which you have no business meddling.” Chief Harper waggled his finger at her sternly. “And any evidence you may find while not meddling in it, you bring directly to me.”

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