A Puzzle in a Pear Tree (5 page)

6

“MY, WE’VE PUT ON A LITTLE WEIGHT, HAVEN’T WE?”

Cora Felton glared down at Mabel Cunningham as the costume mistress attempted to button Cora’s milkmaid skirt. A plump woman herself, Mabel seemed to take undue delight in the expanding waistlines of others.

“I haven’t put on a little weight,” Cora told her tartly. “I’ve never worn this costume before. Someone else wore it last year. Someone who was obviously shorter. If it’s going to be a problem, why don’t you talk to Rupert and suggest he replace me with someone the costume will fit?”

“Don’t be silly,” Mabel said. “I can let it out. I do that every year. Take it in, let it out. And this year, with the crazy casting, nothing seems to fit.”

As if to punctuate the remark, Sherry Carter came walking up with her ladies-dancing costume hanging off her like a tent.

“Well, look at this!” Mabel cried. She fished a half dozen straight pins out of a pocket in her smock, fed them unerringly into her mouth. With a practiced hand, Mabel quickly tucked and pinned Sherry’s dress. “That’s good. Take it off, hang it on a hanger, make sure your hanger’s marked. You’re done.”

As Sherry moved off, Mabel said, “There’s a break. It’s a lot easier to baste than let out. Though I seem to have a lot more letting out.”

Cora seethed in silence. Since she’d been shanghaied into this idiotic project, her acting, her singing, her dancing, and now her weight had been called into question.

Wendy Brill, one of the high school girls who had been helping Mabel with the costumes, came running up. “Becky’s here!” she announced breathlessly.

“So, give her a costume. You know where it is.”

“Dan Finley’s with her.” Wendy’s eyes were wide. “He wants to come
in
!”

“Oh,” Mabel said. She glanced around the girls’ dressing room, where the women’s costume call was being held. Sherry Carter, now in bra and panties, was hanging her ladies-dancing gown on a rack. Other actresses were in various stages of undress. “Well, we can’t have that, can we? Let me talk to Dan.”

Mabel straightened, spat the remaining pins into her hand, ambled toward the door. Cora Felton, holding up her unbuttoned skirt, tagged along right behind.

Becky Baldwin and Dan Finley stood outside. The young policeman looked deeply embarrassed.

“I’m not trying to get in,” he protested. “Chief Harper said not to leave her alone.”

“There’s only one door to the dressing room, Dan,” Mabel told him. “And there’s a lot of us here. I think Becky’ll be safe enough with us women.”

“I think so too,” Dan agreed. “But I got my orders.”

“You wanna come
in
?” Mabel managed to put a wealth of insinuation into a two-letter word.

Dan Finley could not have blushed more splendidly had he been caught trying to peep in the dressing room window. “Of course not. But I don’t see why you couldn’t bring her costume out here.”

“Wonderful,” Becky said. “You’d like me to dress in the hall?” She shrugged off her coat, thrust it at the beleaguered policeman. “I suppose you’d like to hold my clothes for me?”

From the look on Dan Finley’s face, Becky had been torturing him all morning. “No, ma’am. But if I’m gonna deviate from my orders, I’m gonna clear it with the chief.”

Becky threw up her hands. “Oh, for goodness’ sakes!”

Sherry Carter, dressed in sweater and jeans and carrying her overcoat, came out the door. “What’s going on?”

“Great,” Becky said. “Let’s get
everybody
out here, why don’t we. Get everyone out here, so Dan and I can go in there together. Would you like that, Dan?”

Dan Finley had his cell phone out, was punching in a number.

“Calling for backup?” Becky teased.

“Hi, Chief. It’s Dan. I’m over at the high school, Becky has a costume fitting, no one wants me in the girls’ dressing room, there’s a lot of women not wearing a lot of clothes. Okay to wait outside?” He listened a minute, said, “Thanks, Chief,” snapped the cell phone shut. “He’ll be here in two minutes.”

Becky’s mouth fell open. “What!?”

“I’m kidding. You can go on in.”

Becky shot him a look, then sailed into the dressing room, followed by Cora, Sherry, and Mabel.

“He’s only doing his job,” Sherry pointed out.

Cora winced. Her niece needed to learn when to keep her mouth shut.

“Oh, is that right?” Becky replied witheringly. “You think his job is to protect me from some secret stalker? On the basis of a silly children’s rhyme that has nothing to do with me? I mean, come on, give me a break.”

Sherry bristled. “The poem was in the pear tree. Who gets the pear tree?”

“So
you
think there’s something to it?” Becky scoffed. “As far as everyone else is concerned,
that
,” she said, pointing in the direction of Dan, “is a useless precaution. But you think the threat is real, and you think it’s aimed at me. What is that—wishful thinking?”

Sherry smiled sweetly. “Why, Becky Baldwin, whatever do you mean?”

Becky flushed, realizing she’d gone a little too far. An unspoken rule of their ongoing rivalry was never to openly acknowledge it.

“I mean,” she answered, recovering beautifully, “that you want the puzzle to mean something so your aunt here can solve it and be the big hero.”

“Heroine,” Sherry corrected.

Becky frowned, then shot back archly, “You’re rather preoccupied with sex, aren’t you?”

“I’m not the one taunting young men in the hallways of the high school.”

“Not my idea,” Becky retorted. “This wouldn’t have happened if your aunt hadn’t convinced Chief Harper that acrostic poem meant something.”

“Actually, it was Harvey Beerbaum who solved the acrostic,” Cora pointed out.

“Who wrote it, then?”

“Not guilty,” Cora said. “I can quite honestly say I have never written an acrostic in my life.”

“Is that right?” Becky said. If Becky believed her, Cora wouldn’t have known it.

Becky tossed her coat on a rack, turned to find Mabel measuring Cora’s skirt. “Where’s my costume?” Becky demanded.

“Skirt waist let out three and a half inches,” Mabel said. She spied judiciously behind Cora’s back. “Bigger all around.” Over her shoulder to Becky she said, “Coat rack in the back. Dress will have your name on it. Put it on, come find me. Bring the measurement sheet pinned to it.” She turned her attention back to Cora. “Did we do the blouse?”

“You mean did we make note of the fact I’m not as skinny as an anorexic fashion model? Yes, I believe we did.”

“Yes, we did,” Mabel said complacently, consulting her measurement sheet. She handed it to Cora. “Hang up your clothes, make sure you pin this sheet to the blouse, and you’re done.”

“All right, what the hell!” came a voice from the back.

All heads turned.

Becky Baldwin came striding up in her bra and panties. Her undergarments were black, lacy, and very sheer. That didn’t surprise Sherry Carter any. Under ordinary circumstances, she might have cast a wouldn’tyou-just-know-it glance at her aunt.

But these weren’t ordinary circumstances. Becky’s eyes were blazing.

There was a red envelope in her hand.

“All right, who did it?” Becky shrilled. “Whoever it was, it isn’t funny.”

“Where’d you get that?” Cora asked.

“As if you didn’t know,” Becky said. “It was pinned to my costume.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Oh, sure. I’m really going to kid about a thing like that. You think I brought this with me, just as a joke?”

“What’s in the envelope?” Cora asked. Her eyes were sparkling.

“I haven’t looked. But I know what it is. A little puzzle poem, telling me I’m gonna die.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Cora said. “It simply makes no sense.”

“Don’t look at me,” Becky said. “I didn’t send the damn thing.”

Becky ripped the envelope open. Inside was a folded piece of paper. Becky took it out, unfolded it. “Well,” she said, “don’t I feel foolish now.”

“Why? What is it?”

Becky turned the paper around.

7

THERE WAS CHRISTMAS MUSIC IN THE POLICE STATION, bouncy, canned elevator music from a boom box on Dan Finley’s desk. Since the young officer wasn’t there, Chief Harper must have been playing it. At the moment, it was filling the station with the strains of “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen.”

Cora Felton was neither a gentleman nor was she jolly. She glared at Chief Harper, who was drumming his fingers on his desk in a rhythm nowhere near the beat of the music. Behind him on the wall, a wreath of holly framed a wanted poster. On the table beside him sat a miniature Christmas tree, not unlike the one that had delivered the first acrostic.

Just like the one in Cora’s hand.

Cora stole a look at Sherry Carter, seated next to her, then turned back to the chief. “I think you should get Harvey Beerbaum. He solved the first puzzle.”

Chief Harper was having none of it. “No,” he declared. “
Now.
You solve it
now.
I’m not playing games here. I’m upset. I don’t care if you’re as
fast
as Harvey, or as
accurate
as Harvey. I want the damn thing solved. So do it
now.
”

Cora shot Sherry a pleading glance.

“Come on, Cora,” Sherry said. “I wanna know too.”

Cora, utterly betrayed, gawked at her. “What?” she protested.

Sherry smiled. “Cora’s embarrassed,” she informed Chief Harper. “Acrostics are confusing, and she always gets mixed up transferring the letters from the clues to the grid. Come on, Cora. I’ll fill in the letters for you. You just tell me what they are.”

“Is that all?” Cora said.

Sherry was fishing a pen out of her purse. “Let me have the puzzle. And something to write on.” She took a file folder off Chief Harper’s desk, leaned the puzzle on it, scribbled a few strokes with the pen. “Let’s see if this pen works.”

“Oh, I gotta do it in
ink
?” Cora tried to sound like she was joking, not like it really was the last straw.

“I have infinite confidence in you.” Sherry scrunched her chair next to Cora’s. “Let’s see.”

Cora, with more chance of winning the state lottery than getting even one answer right, exhaled in helpless frustration. The music, as if to mock her, had moved on to “Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer.”

Cora mentally shot herself and looked at the puzzle.

Her eyes widened.

Sherry, while testing the pen, had managed to fill in one answer.
N: Elizabeth’s suitor in ‘Pride and Prejudice’
was
Darcy.

Well, better than nothing, Cora thought, even if it was merely postponing the inevitable.

“Well,” Cora said, “Right off the bat, the answer to
N:
Elizabeth’s suitor in ‘Pride and Prejudice’
has to be
Darcy.
”

“Good,” Sherry said. “Okay, let me fill that in.”

After L: Singer John, Sherry promptly wrote Elton.

Cora grinned as the realization struck her. Sherry had only written one clue, but that was all she needed. By filling in a new clue every time Cora gave her the answer to the old, she could keep one clue ahead of Cora until the whole puzzle was solved. A simple but brilliantly effective strategy, which Sherry had thought up on the spur of the moment. Cora never ceased to be amazed at Sherry’s linguistic dexterity.

Cora began filling in words. The elevator music segued into “It Came upon a Midnight Clear.” Cora could almost imagine a halo around her head.

Within minutes the puzzle had been filled in.

“Uh-oh,” Sherry said.

“What is it?” Chief Harper asked.

“You’re not going to like this, Chief.”

“I hate it already. What’s it say?”

Sherry read:

“Did you get my message?
It appears that you did not.
Or is it conceivable
That you simply forgot?

“Well, here’s a brief reminder
To remember what I said.
I hope it doesn’t come too late
And you’re already dead!

“The author is
Me Again.
The title is
Die, Leading
Lady, Die.
”

“That does it,” Chief Harper said. “Before, we only suspected the threat was aimed at Becky Baldwin. This confirms it.
Die, Leading Lady, Die.
And she is the star of the show.”

Sherry refrained from comment.

“Yes, she is,” Cora agreed, the very picture of innocent outrage. “And this note was pinned to her costume. If I were you, I’d shut down the play.”

Chief Harper frowned. “Are you really
that
bad?”

“I was thinking of Becky Baldwin’s safety,” Cora replied with all the dignity she could muster.

Chief Harper nodded. “Then you take this as a genuine threat?”

“Don’t be silly, Chief. You gotta take
any
threat as a genuine threat. Because there’s no way to tell. But I don’t know what you’re gonna do about it. Unless you have Dan Finley
marry
Becky Baldwin.”

“I can sound him out on the subject.”

“Yeah. So what’s your scheme here? Short of shutting down the show, which is the only move that would be effective.
Death of an Actress. Death of a Leading Lady.
Make Becky stop acting, you thwart the killer’s plan.”

Chief Harper frowned, considered. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“I still don’t know if this is a threat or a prank. On the one hand, I don’t wanna close the show for a prank. On the other, if this is a genuine threat, will calling off the show really stop it? If there’s a killer out there targeting Becky Baldwin, will canceling the show be effective? Or will it merely tick the killer off? The killer has promised Becky Baldwin’s death. And I would say there is a ninety-nine percent chance the
reason
he wants Becky Baldwin dead is not because she got the lead in the Christmas play. So if you take away the Christmas play, that reason still remains. It screws up his poetry, big deal. Suppose he writes another poem called death of an
ex-
actress, and pins it to her body?”

“So keep Dan Finley on her.”

“Indefinitely?” Chief Harper shook his head. “You see the problem here. Once the Christmas pageant goes on, it’s over. Presumably, whatever our little poet intends to do will happen before then. You take away the pageant, the whole thing’s open-ended. There’s no telling when the killer might strike. Assuming he ever does.”

Cora’s eyes were brilliant with excitement and pleasure. “Oh, you sneaky devil. You and your fancy talk.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“That’s why you won’t call off the pageant! You
want
it to happen. You have no idea who the killer is, and you figure your only way to catch him is if he makes a move on her. That’s why you have Dan Finley on Becky Baldwin. Not to protect her. Becky Baldwin is bait!”

Chief Harper said nothing.

“What about opening night?” Cora persisted. “Assuming we get there. You gonna send Dan Finley out onstage with her? In period costume?”

“I’m sure she’ll be safe enough onstage. And I’m sure she’s safe enough now. I just want to stop this before it goes any further. If it’s kids, I wanna drag them into the principal’s office and let him point out why it isn’t very funny.”

“Sounds good to me, Chief. Just how do you plan to go about doing that?”

“Got any suggestions?”

“Have you traced the first puzzle?”

“If I had, I’d know where this one came from.”

“Fair enough. Have you
tried
to trace the first puzzle?”

“That I have. As much as possible. According to the computer teacher, it wasn’t done on any of the high school machines.”

“The high school has a teacher to teach computer.” Cora shook her head. “I am way too old.”

“So no help there. And I got no grounds to start invading private homes.”

“Would you have grounds if Becky got bumped off?” At Chief Harper’s look, Cora said meekly, “Just asking.” Suddenly, she scowled in disgust. “Oh, hell!”

From Dan Finley’s boom box wafted the dulcet strains of “The Twelve Days of Christmas.”