And a Puzzle to Die On (30 page)

“Okay. I’ll ask your husband.”

Cora started for her car.

Ida chased her down the walk. “No, wait.”

“Ah, the magic words. So, what’s the story?”

“I don’t want you talking to my husband about the detective.”

“Why? Because he hired him?”

“No. Because he didn’t.”

Cora frowned. “What?”

“I hired him.”

“Why?”

“To watch my husband.”

“Why?”

“Why do you think?”

“Who’s the other lady?”

“That’s not important.”

“You tell me it’s Valerie Thompkins, I’m gonna lose it.”

“It’s not Valerie Thompkins.”

“Then who is it?”

Ida Blaine exhaled. “Damn it. All right, you win. There is no other lady.”

“Then why do you want your husband watched?”

“To see if he’s watching me.”

Cora considered that. “I like it. I’m not sure I believe it, but I like it.”

“It’s the truth.”

“Well, the nice thing is, the dead detective can’t deny it. But how’d he come to have in his possession a videotape of you carousing in the altogether?”

“Says you.”

“According to Warden Studly that tape was influencing your vote. And was helping you influence the good doctor’s.”

“Jesus, what a mess.”

“Well, at least we agree on one thing. So, where is this famous husband of yours? The one who’s footing
all the bills, keeping you in this nice house? The one you don’t want me talking to?”

“He’s out of town.”

“Where out of town?”

She took a breath. Exhaled. “Australia.”

“Australia?” Cora chuckled. “That will make him hard to contact. How long has he been there?”

“The past month.”

“Really. Then hiring a detective to have him watched was sort of an empty gesture.”

“Yeah, I knew that wasn’t going to fly.”

“So who hired the detective?”

“I don’t
know
who hired the damn detective,” Ida Blaine snapped. “You say he was watching my house, well, whoopee for him. I don’t know what he expected to find. I can’t explain the detective. I don’t know a damn thing about him.”

“You
tried
to explain the detective.”

“I didn’t want you to think he was watching me. That’s creepy.”

“It’s more than creepy, considering the guy had a nude video of you. Did he approach you with it?”

“No.”

“Maybe offer to sell it back to you?”

“Absolutely not!”

“You tell him you had to get your hands on some money? Offer to meet him somewhere? Like the library stacks?”

“No, I did not.”

“Your denial might carry more weight if you hadn’t already given me so many versions. What was your relationship with the gentleman?”

“I didn’t
have
a relationship with the gentleman. The fact he was watching my house was news to me. I
should have just said that. Instead, I panicked, and tried to brush it off as something else.”

“Why did you panic?”

“Why did I panic? You come here and threaten me with videotapes and conspiracies to subvert the penal system, and then you dangle a dead detective in front of my face and wonder why I panic?”

“You made up things. All you had to do was say, ‘I know nothing about it.’ ”

“And that would have satisfied you, and you would have gone away and left me alone, and we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” Ida said, sarcastically. “You threatened me with my husband. The fact is, I don’t want you talking to him. Even long distance in Australia.”

“But if you don’t know anything …”

“You’re just going to ask him about the shadow? You’re not going to bring up the videotape? See, I don’t want you talking to him at all. I tried to say something to get you to stop. It was a stupid lie. You gonna hold me to it?”

“You know the detective who was watching your house?”

“Hell, no.”

“What do you suppose he was looking for?”

“I don’t know that, either.”

“You know a woman named Valerie Thompkins?”

“No, but I’ve heard the name. Now, where did—” Ida Blaine broke off. “You. You mentioned her. About my husband. What was that all about?”

“Don’t blame me. That was in response to your lie that you hired the detective to stake out your husband.”

“Yeah, but—”

“How about Bud? You know anyone named Bud?”

“Bud? Who the hell is Bud?”

“I have no idea. Do you?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be good with words? When I say, ‘Who the hell is Bud?’ it’s a hint I don’t have a clue who he is.”

“Thanks for the tip. Do I have to point out you haven’t been scoring a hundred percent in the veracity department?”

“Yeah, well, you say the detective was watching me. If that’s true, I don’t know why, but we’ve only got your word for it.”

“Luckily, I believe me. I don’t give a damn what you think. How about Dr. What’s-his-name? Was he in on it? Or an unwitting dupe?”

“Dr. Jenkins is just a friend!”

Cora sighed, shook her head. “Now, how did I know you were going to say that?”

Cora stomped down the path, got in the car, and drove home.

The police were there waiting for her.

Becky Baldwin was incredulous. “Dognapping?”

“I don’t believe there is such a crime. On the Connecticut books, I mean.”

“Oh? You’re telling me I drove all the way down to the Danbury lockup for a crime that doesn’t exist?”

“I think they’re charging me with theft.”

“What makes you think that?”

“The prosecutor came in and said, ‘We’re charging you with theft.’ ”

“Petty theft?”

“No, grand larceny. Unfortunately, the dog is a purebred. You wouldn’t believe how much he cost.”

“Yeah, I would. But they don’t claim you broke in to steal him?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because they can’t
prove
I broke in.”

“Cora.”

“I didn’t break in to get the dog. I already
had
the dog.”

“You admit you stole the dog?”

“Not at all. A neighbor
gave
me the dog.”

“Because you lied and deceived her in order to illegally obtain the dog.”

“Does that make me guilty of stealing?”

“Well, it doesn’t qualify you for a medal. Why did you steal the dog?”

“The dog shouldn’t have been left there in the first place. What, are they nuts? Leave an animal alone? I don’t care if the neighbor is feeding it. The owner is dead. Someone should have taken charge of the dog.”

“You’re right. They paid entirely too much attention to the dead woman on the floor.”

“You’ve been watching too many lawyer shows, Becky. Lawyers don’t
have
to be sarcastic with their clients. It’s possible to just
discuss
the crime.”

“Then, by all means, let’s discuss it. Just don’t confess to anything illegal that puts me in an impossible position.”

“No position is impossible when you’re young and healthy.”

Becky’s mouth fell open.

Cora laughed. “That’s from
What the Butler Saw
, by Joe Orton. My third husband, Frank, took me to it, largely because he felt guilty for running around with the hatcheck girl. Sorry. I’ve had no sleep. I keep free-associating. Where were we?”

“You ripped off a dog.”

“Surely we’d gotten past that by now.”

“Unfortunately, the police haven’t. You’re going to be arraigned on it.”

“Then what?”

“You’ll be released on bail. If they’re serious about
pursuing this, the A.D.A. will schedule a probable-cause hearing.”

“That’s where you get the charge thrown out?”

“No, it’s just a formality. All they have to show is the police had reasonable grounds to think you might be guilty of a crime. There’s more than enough. The dog was found at your house, the neighbor saw you take the dog. The only way to settle a case at a probable-cause hearing is to make a deal.”

“You mean plead it out?”

“Exactly.”

“I plead guilty to something?”

“Well, you
are
guilty, aren’t you?”

“That’s not the point. I have a career built on a reputation. You run ‘Puzzle Lady Cops Plea’ in the tabloids, and there go my TV ads.”

“You should have thought of that before you swiped the dog.”

“Hey! You saying you can’t handle this? I gotta fire you and bring in the Dream Team? I’m not copping a plea. There must be another way to beat it at probable cause.”

“We’ll be lucky if we can beat it at trial. You wanna consult another attorney, I’ll bet you a nickle they say the same thing.”

“I’m sure they would. Listen, am I just charged with the dog?”

“That’s not enough?”

“It’s plenty. But is it all?”

“It’s all I heard of. Why?”

“Oh,” Cora said airily, “you know how the police like to pile on charges.”

“Well, if they consider taking the dog obstruction
of justice, they haven’t let on. With regard to your fraudulent representation—”

“What fraudulent representation? Is there a statute on the books about impersonating a friend of a poodle owner?”

“It may not be an additional charge, but I know how it’s going to look to a jury.”

“We’re not getting to a jury. We’re beating it on probable cause.”

“Right,” Becky agreed.

Her enthusiasm was decidedly lacking.

Sherry Carter didn’t mince words.

“You look awful.”

Cora made a remark reflecting on Sherry’s lineage, demeanor, and intelligence, and suggesting a romantic interlude she might experience alone.

“I can’t help it,” Sherry said, “if you refuse to eat, sleep, or even change your clothes, Aunt Cora. You look like holy hell. Getting arrested is just the icing on the cake.”

Cora didn’t want to think about cakes. “Where’s the dog?” she demanded.

“The police have the dog.”

“Are they treating it right?”

“How the hell should I know?”

“Why are you cranky? I’m the one in jail.”

“Yes, and is that my fault? When you go running all over the place getting into trouble?”

“That isn’t what got me into trouble. I got busted for coming home. Listen, Sherry, find out where the
dog is. See if they’ll let you take him. The poor thing’s been through enough.”

“They’re holding the dog for evidence.”

“Oh, come on. Are they afraid we’d switch dogs on them? Or wouldn’t bring him back? See if they’ll let you keep him.”

“Asking for the dog is just going to confirm the fact you took him.”

“So what? They don’t
need
confirmation. They found him at our house. Come on, Sherry. I’m having a hard time thinking this out. Just get that off my mind.”

“Fine. Consider it off your mind. Go ahead and concentrate on the crimes. You’ll have a lot of time. I understand you’re not making bail until tomorrow.”

“What! Becky didn’t mention that!”

“She’s down there pushing, but the judge went home. I don’t think he’s in any hurry to come back.”

“Son of a bitch!”

“So it looks like you’re here for the night.”

“Who told you this?”

“Becky.”

“Well, she didn’t tell me!”

“She probably had other things to discuss.”

“Some birthday present!” Cora grumbled. “Listen, do me a favor. Next year give me a watch.”

Sherry took out a folded paper. “Speaking of birthday presents, you got another card.”

“Oh, give me a break!”

“No, you’ll like this one.”

“Don’t count on it.”

Cora unfolded the paper.

“ ‘
Misnomers
, by Hillary Mustache’? Who the hell is Hillary Mustache?”

Sherry grinned. “Yes, that’s the point.”

MISNOMERS
by Hillary Mustache