And a Puzzle to Die On (20 page)

Before Cora could tell Harvey a good location for the extra candle to grow on, a body tumbled over the rail of the balcony, and landed smack in the middle of the birthday cake puzzle, filling in 14 Down.

“Now, now,” Dr. Nathan soothed. “You have to stay put.”

“I’m fine,” Cora Felton said irritably.

“You may think you’re fine, but you’ve had a terrible shock. You fainted and fell on the corpse.”

“Harvey Beerbaum fainted and
pushed
me into the corpse.”

“I’m tending to Harvey too.”

“What do you mean,
too
? He faints, you treat
me
for shock?”

“You’re a woman.”

“You want a fat lip?”

“Granted, you’re a feisty woman. But you are a woman, and you’re not as young as you used to be, Cora.”

“What a sweet thing to tell a woman on her natal day. You ever consider going into the greeting-card business?”

“If you’re trying to impress me with your sarcasm, it will do no good. You’ve had a traumatic shock.”

“Would that traumatic shock be seeing a dead body?”

“Of course.”

“Then why aren’t you tending to him?”

“You noticed the body was male?”

“Yeah, Doc. The suit and tie sort of gave it away. Don’t you have to determine the cause of death?”

“Already been done.”

“Good for you, Doc. How’d you work so fast?”

“It wasn’t that hard. His throat had been slit. That’s what kept him from crying out.”

“Well, that’s interesting as all hell. How’s Harvey?”

“I was just going to check on him.” The doctor raised his voice. “Miss Carter. Mr. Grant.”

Sherry and Aaron, who’d been waiting outside the door, hurried over.

“Would you mind keeping an eye on Miss Felton while I check on Mr. Beerbaum? I don’t want her wandering off.”

“Do I have your permission to use force?” Aaron Grant asked.

Cora started to rail at him, but noticed his eyes were twinkling.

Dr. Nathan grinned, and ducked out the door.

“Now, look here—” Cora began.

“No, you look here,” Sherry told her. “The doctor said to keep an eye on you, and we intend to. In the first place, do you know where you are?”

“Give me a break,” Cora snapped. “I’m in the little office where Jimmy Potter works. There’s the typewriter he uses to type his file cards. I’ll be throwing it at somebody in just a minute. Now peek out the door and tell me if the doc is watching.”

“Aunt Cora, Dr. Nathan said to stay put.”

“He’s not a cop, he’s a sawbones. What’s he gonna do, throw pills at me?”

Cora pushed by Aaron, slipped out the door.

The library had cleared out. There were crime-scene ribbons on all the entrances to the area under the rail. The body, of course, was gone, but the smashed cake remained. It held the dead man’s imprint. It was not a neat outline, like when a cartoon character goes through the wall, but it was clear enough to tell the tale. The man had fallen facedown, with his feet toward the top of the cake, and his head toward the bottom. The legs had been slightly splayed, and had straddled the twenty candles. The candles were still there, jutting up from the frosting.

The candle to grow on had been wiped out by a direct hit.

The man’s head had been facing left. Cora could tell that largely from the bloodstain on the cake’s white icing. That side of the outline was somewhat marred by the fact that she had toppled over the corpse.

On the other side of the outline, where the left arm would be, was a semicircle in the frosting, as if a child had been making snow angels.

The rest of the cake was untouched. It occurred to Cora if you ignored the fact it was a crossword puzzle, the cake didn’t look all that bad. She idly stuck a finger in the frosting, put a sticky glob in her mouth. It tasted pretty good too.

“Aunt Cora!” Sherry exclaimed.

Cora ignored her, took another taste.

“Eating the crime scene?”

Cora looked up, saw Chief Harper hurrying toward her from the direction of the main desk. She smiled. “Now, how often do you get to say that?”

He cast a withering gaze at Aaron and Sherry. “I thought you were keeping an eye on her.”

“We are, Chief,” Sherry said brightly. “How’s she look to you?”

Before the chief could retort, Cora said, “Wasn’t his hand up?”

“What?”

“He fell with his hand up. Over his head.” She pointed. “It looks like it got pulled down.”

“Ah, yes.” Chief Harper tugged at his collar, uncomfortably.

“What’s the matter, Chief?” Cora demanded.

“Do you remember the sequence of events? The man fell, just missing you. Harvey looked, fainted, knocked you down.”

“Exactly,” Cora said. “I didn’t faint. I remained in perfect possession of my faculties.”

“Does your head hurt?”

“Why?”

“You banged heads with Harvey. The doctor was concerned.”

“I’m fine. What about his arm?”

“Oh. Well, after you got knocked down …”

“Yeah?”

“He moved it.”

Cora made a face. “He was
alive
?”

“Barely. And not long. Dr. Nathan was right here. Rushed to the body, did all he could. Which wasn’t much. The guy had his throat cut. You don’t live with your throat cut.”

“You ID the body?”

“According to his driver’s license, he’s Peter Burnside, of Danbury, Connecticut.”

“Huh,” Cora grunted.

“Mean anything to you?”

“Never heard of him.” Cora stuck her finger in the frosting, took another bite. “You know, I think the vanilla’s better than the chocolate.”

“Will you
please
stop that!”

“Can I smoke in here?”

“Of course not.”

“Then I gotta eat.” Cora dipped her finger.

Out of the corner of his eye, Chief Harper could see Aaron Grant scribbling gleefully in his notepad. “Cut it out, Aaron.”

Cora licked her lips. “So, what are you doing, Chief? You got two hundred suspects locked up and you’re taking them one at a time?”

“Nobody’s locked up. Everybody’s going home. Dan Finley’s out there right now writing down license-plate numbers. But it’s probably too late.”

“How do you figure that?”

“Decedent’s upstairs keeping an eye on things from the balcony. He got lucky there. See the ribbon across the spiral staircase? Edith Potter closed it off, didn’t want anyone upstairs in the stacks. He’s got the whole place to himself. The killer sneaks up behind him, slits his throat, pushes him over the rail. There’s a back stairs and a back door. In the confusion, the killer sneaks out. Could have driven off while the body’s still flopping around.”

Sherry Carter made a face.

“Hey, you’re grossing out my niece.”

“Sorry, but that’s a fact. Anyway, if the killer was long gone, Dan Finley’s license numbers won’t do us any good.”

“You sent Dan out to get ’em when you saw the Danbury ID?”

“I sent Dan out when I didn’t recognize the corpse’s face. No way he was from around here. I figure someone must have followed him.”

Dr. Nathan came out from attending Harvey Beerbaum, said, “Hey, what are you doing up?”

“Oh, is it past my bedtime?” Cora looked at her watch. “You gotta give me a little leeway, Doc. After all, it’s my birthday.”

Dan Finley came in with a legal pad. “Okay, I got your plates. Most are Connecticut. A few are New York. A few Massachusetts and Vermont. There’s one from Texas. I’m not sure what that’s all about.”

“Okay,” Harper said. “Run ’em through the computer, group ’em by town. I’d particularly like to know who’s here from Danbury.”

“All of ’em?” Dan Finley said.

“Well, start with Connecticut. If you find a New York plate from Danbury, we got trouble.”

“I could help Dan run those plates,” Cora offered.

“Oh, I’m sure Dan can handle it.”

“Fine. I’ll help you with the crime scene.” Cora speared another gob of frosting.

“Stop that!” Harper turned to Sherry. “Can you get her out of here?”

“Dr. Nathan told me to stay,” Cora announced truculently.

“And now I’m telling you to go,” Dr. Nathan said. “Just don’t drive. Sherry, you’ll take her?”

“Sure, Doc. Wanna come along, Aaron?”

“It’s news, Sherry. I’ve gotta stay.”

“Me too,” Cora said. “You run along, Sherry. Aaron and I will stay here.”

“Nice try, Cora.” Sherry took her aunt by the shoulders and nudged her toward the door.

“Traitor,” Cora grumbled.

Cora risked a backward glance. Chief Harper and Dr. Nathan were studying the smashed birthday cake.

Cora turned back, to find Sherry had stopped to talk to Aaron Grant.

“Come on, come on!” Cora hissed. “Let’s get the hell out of here before the son of a bitch changes his mind!”

“You mind telling me what we’re doing?” Sherry said.

“We’re going to Danbury,” Cora informed her. “Didn’t you always want to go to Danbury?”

“Not at eleven o’clock at night.”

“Is it eleven? Time flies when you’re sedated.”

“Are you sure you’re thinking straight?”

“Sherry. Sweetie. I could drink a pint of rum and still recite the Gettysburg Address. You think a mild tranquilizer’s gonna faze me?”

“You know the Gettysburg Address?”

“That was just an example.”

“That was just a
bad
example. Which is my whole point. You’re not thinking straight. If you were, we wouldn’t be driving to Danbury.”

“Why not?”

“Why are you going behind Chief Harper’s back?”

“I’m not.”

“Did you tell him you were going?”

“No.”

“Pray, elucidate, oh wordsmith, how this does not constitute going behind his back.”

“Oh wordsmith? Low blow.”

“Would you prefer
prevaricator
?”

“I’m not entirely sure what that means.”

“It means you deceived Chief Harper about the fact you’re rushing off to Danbury. And now you’re trying to claim you didn’t.”

“No such thing. Chief Harper has a crime to solve. I don’t want to distract him from his purpose.”

“Not even close. I think you may have impaired judgment.”

“Okay, how about Chief Harper has no jurisdiction in Danbury, so the first thing he’ll do is contact the local police. Who may or may not be in collusion with Dr. What’s-his-face regarding the suspicious traffic fatality of the late Mr. Gleason.”

“Not bad. You’ve almost got me convinced.”

“You think that’s good logic?”

“No, but you said it well. Maybe you’re not that impaired after all.”

“I’m fine.”

“You certainly are. You’ve managed to evade the question very nicely.”

“What question?”

“Why are we going to Danbury?”

“Do you have to ask? To check out the victim, Peter Burnside.”

“You’re not breaking into a dead man’s house!”

“Of course not. I’m breaking into his office.”

“Aunt Cora—”

“Which is not nearly so bad.”

“I’m glad to hear it. How do you know he has an office?”

“He’s a private investigator. Of course he has an office.”

“How do you know he’s a private investigator?”

“How do I know anything? Why else would he be keeping tabs on the guy’s wife who’s having an affair with the doctor on Darryl Daigue’s parole board?”

Sherry Carter stared at her aunt. “You recognized the corpse?”

“Watch the road.”

“And you didn’t tell Chief Harper?”

“The chief didn’t ask me.”

Sherry pulled the car up on the shoulder.

“What are you doing?” Cora demanded.

“Turning around.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am. Cora, you’re withholding vital information from the police. There’s no way you can justify this one.”

“I’m not withholding a thing. I told Chief Harper all about this detective shadowing the guy’s wife.”

“You didn’t say the detective was the dead man.”

“Give me a break. I gave Harper the guy’s license number. If he traced it, he knows the guy’s name, and he knows he’s the corpse. If he didn’t, that’s hardly my fault.”

“Oh, for God’s sake—”

“I’ve given him all the facts. The deductions are up to him. It’s not my place to figure things out for the chief of police.”