The Crossword Murder (18 page)

“Suspicion's an interesting thing, Mr. Kerr.” Rosco watched the bug eyes roam his face as he spoke. They were intent, less fearful than alert; the impression was that of a predator stalking his prey. “And of course the nature of my business makes me more suspicious than most people.” Rosco held the puzzle in the air. “Thank you for bringing this to me; if you should receive another, I'd like to see it. But as for suspicion, I'm afraid I suspect everyone until the truth surfaces.”

Kerr stood and offered his hand to Rosco. “Fair enough, Mr. Polycrates. However, with regard to my receiving any more of these cryptics, I am leaving for San Francisco at eleven A.M. today. I will be staying with my nephew until this situation has been resolved. I do not intend to suffer the same fate as JaneAlice Miller.”

“I'm not so sure leaving town is the answer. The police may have some questions for you once they learn you've received this puzzle.”

“My response to that is, let them find me.”

Kerr turned and slipped through the door.

Rosco smiled. Kerr wouldn't be a tough man to locate—even if he was three thousand miles away. He picked up the phone and entered Belle's number before the
Herald snoopster
was halfway out of the building.

“Guess what I've got?” he said when she finally answered.

“I hope it's not food poisoning.”

He laughed. “No. I'm sorry, the first thing I meant to do was thank you for dinner. It was excellent. I mean for the first time out of the gate and all, it was really good. Great, I mean. I think it was the oatmeal that did it.”

“Don't lay it on too thick.”

“Listen to this.” Rosco was incapable of hiding the excitement in his voice. “I have one of Briephs' other puzzles. It wasn't destroyed.”

Belle jumped up from her desk; Rosco could hear her chair scrape the floor and something that sounded like an empty cup overturn. “What! You're kidding! Where did you get it?”

“I'll explain later. But I need you to figure out the answers. There's no way I can do this thing by myself. Can I come over?”

“Yes. Yes. I'm here. I'm at home. Well, of course I'm home. You called me. You'd have to know where I am.”

Rosco was there in fifteen minutes. Belle was waiting on the front porch when he arrived.

“Let me see it,” she called, then grabbed the puzzle and raced to her office without waiting for his reply. By the time he caught up, she had six answers filled in.

PUZZLE #3

Across

1.
Scheme

5.
Tries

10.
Famous murderer

13.
Lovers ___

14.
Oklahoma city

15.
Eight, prefix

16.
Competition?

19.
Presidential nickname

20.
Wide shoes

21.
Bond school

22.
Evils

24.
Beliefs

25.
Chest

26.
Trails

28.
Famous murder victim

30.
Way to one's heart?

31.
Dine

34.
Herald
snoopster

38.
Work unit

39.
Dangers

40.
French river

41.
Some Native Americans

42.
TWA offer

43.
It'll knock you out

45.
Capital no-nos

49.
No longer Siamese

50.
It's golden

51.
French coin

52.
Competition?

56.
Call up

57.
Hirschfeld lines?

58.
Clamp

59.
Rocks

60.
Inhibits

61.
Part of USA

Down

1.
“Dead Men Don't Wear ___”

2.
With 52-Down, Indian isle

3.
Publishing biggie

4.
Arts org.

5.
It could be bum

6.
Bullrushes

7.
“___ Well That Ends Well”

8.
Scout org.

9.
Actor's org.

10.
Reason to be blessed

11.
Not Ollie's

12.
___ Dawber

15.
Witnesses take them

17.
“___ there, done that!”

18.
Second meltdown?

23.
It's golden

24.
Major ending

26.
Tidal___

27.
“___ and the Man,” Shaw play

28.
Famous murder victim

29.
Stop

30.
It's a sin to tell ___

31.
It ___ right!

32.
Grecian ___

33.
Before, prefix

35.
“For ___ may be seen … murder,” Malory

36.
Done

37.
Put out

41.
Chinese general, b. 1873

42.
Fox or Rabbit

43.
Principle

44.
Macbeth, e.g.

45.
Colorful bird

46.
Bos. campus

47.
Wake up

48.
More positive

50.
K-P filler

52.
See 2-Down

53.
Switch settings

54.
Nada

55.
Power proj.

To download a PDF of this puzzle, please visit
openroadmedia.com/nero-blanc-crosswords

CHAPTER 23

R
OSCO
PEERED
OVER
Belle's shoulder as she rapidly inked in the final answer to Briephs' handwritten puzzle: 48-Down: SURER.

“Well, you were right,” he said, looking at 52-Across and barely able to contain his laughter, “SHANNON MCARTHUR has fifteen letters in her name … of course, so does BARTHOLEMEW KERR, which even I knew, thanks to the man himself … Not to mention some other people we all recognize, like 16-Across there.” He pointed at ANNABELLA GRAHAM.

Belle glanced up at Rosco. “Well, of course. I always knew my own name stretched perfectly across a puzzle. Obviously, with this we have to throw out my fifteen-letter theory.”

“Whoa, whoa. I don't know, not so fast there … Maybe I should drag you down to Lieutenant Lever's office for questioning. Where were you on the evening of Briephs' death?”

“Don't get too high-handed—your name also has fifteen letters, in case you've been too dense to notice.”

Rosco began counting the letters of his name on his fingers. Belle did her best to ignore him.

“So,” she continued, “there must be something else in these puzzles. Briephs' cryptics were never that simple. He isn't giving up the identity of his killer as easily as I'd originally hoped. But it's here, I'm certain of it. Look at 35-Down: HEREIN
may be seen … murder
, and 1-Down: ‘Dead Men Don't Wear PLAID.' 1-Across:
Scheme
becomes PLAN … And 45-Across: MURDERS? All these hints at plots and killings … such as 28-Across: ABEL, 28-Down: ABE—another excellent reference to John Wilkes Booth, by the way … And 5-Across: STABS … 10-Across: ASP.”

Rosco sat in the black-and-white deck chair across the desk from Belle and stared into space.

“What?” she asked.

“I'm thinking.”

“Obviously you're thinking. But what about?”

“The implausibility of all this. Maybe these names are only intended to arouse suspicion. A list of people who'd be happy to see Briephs out of the way. It's possible he had no idea who wanted to kill him, and he was hoping that whoever it was would become rattled by seeing his, or her, name in print and give themselves away … After all, Kerr's skipped town.”

A beaming smile spread across Belle's face. She folded the puzzle into a paper glider and sailed it toward Rosco. It bounced off his chest and landed in his lap. “Don't tell me you think I might be correct after all?”

He unfolded the puzzle, forced himself to take a serious tone and avoided making eye contact with her. “It's possible.”

“Thank you, Mr. Generosity.”

“The thing is, there's just not enough information. If these puzzles do amount to anything, we definitely need the two we're missing.” Rosco studied the creased piece of graph paper. By rights, he knew he should be working on the case in his office, but he was having trouble leaving Belle. “Do you mind if I think out loud?”

“As long as you keep it clean.”

Again, Rosco avoided her eyes. “Strictly business,” he said while he perused the puzzle. “Okay, the crosswords are one thing; if there
are
clues, they create more questions than answers. One: Who stole them from JaneAlice? Two: Why mail one to Kerr? And why did Kerr shred the envelope? Because now there's no real proof it was sent through the post office in the first place. We only have Kerr's say-so. And why did he fly the coop? Three: Where are the remaining two puzzles? Have they been destroyed? Will they be mailed to Bartholomew? To someone else? And it all comes back to: Why didn't the killer destroy the puzzles in the first place?”

Belle placed her elbows on the desk and leaned forward, resting her face in the palms of her hands. “Do you think you should have taken this to Lever first? To look for fingerprints or whatever the police do?” There was real concern in her voice, as if in her enthusiasm she'd overlooked what she believed was the first rule in any criminal investigation. “Haven't we been tampering with evidence or something?”

“Kerr had already thoroughly compromised the evidence. You saw how mangled the paper was when you took it from me. Besides, I have a fairly good idea what Al would have said if I dragged in a limp piece of graph paper and presented it to him as evidence—and it wouldn't have included words I'd use in mixed company.”

Belle stared at the puzzle. Rosco was right; it resembled a discarded paper towel. And though she didn't know Lever, she could guess his response. “I still don't understand why Kerr received this. Why would anyone go to the trouble of stealing the puzzles from JaneAlice—and then turn around and make them public?”

“Maybe Kerr's our man. He seemed awfully anxious to get out of town.”

“I've met him, Rosco. And you've met him. Do you think he's capable of killing anything more menacing than a housefly?”

“Over the years I've come to realize murderers come in all shapes and sizes. No … the answers He with JaneAlice.” Rosco pulled a small notepad from his pocket and flipped through it. “Do you mind if I use your phone? I'd like to call St. Joseph's Hospital.”

Belle turned the phone around to face him. “Be my guest.”

Rosco punched in St. Joseph's number and eventually got through to the nurses' station where JaneAlice was under observation. He was told that her X rays showed no evidence of permanent damage and a full recovery was possible—although the prognosis remained guarded. As the patient had yet to regain consciousness, there was still cause for concern. Accordingly, she was currently listed in critical condition. After hanging up, Rosco explained the situation to Belle.

“Not much help there,” she said. “Now what?”

“Back to the basics. At this point, the puzzles are a dead end. Logic would indicate the murderer recognized something in the first puzzle to warrant an attack on JaneAlice. But then logic flies out the window when you consider he gets the remaining puzzles, and turns around and mails one to Kerr.”

“He … Or she.”

“Right, he or she. I'll have to pick up my investigation where I left off—with Betsey Housemann.” Rosco gave Belle a serious look. “I want you to promise you won't go snooping around on your own. At the risk of sounding redundant, we're dealing with a murderer. So please don't do anything without clearing it with me first.”

“I appreciate your concern, Rosco, but I'm not a child. I'm not stupid either. I know how to handle myself, and I'm not prone to reckless deeds. Besides, I'm also adept at keeping out of the way.”

“I'd hardly call you ‘in the way.'”

“Thanks.” Belle glanced through the window at her small city garden, and as Rosco's warning started to filter through her brain, she began worrying about his safety as well. She shook her head slightly, smiled at him and said, “Now I have some advice for you: Be careful with Betsey Housemann. She may not be a man-killer, but she's definitely a man-
eater
.”

“Sounds like my kind of gal.”

They walked out to his Jeep together and Belle watched as he drove off. His warning seemed incongruous on a day this hot and sunny and obviously summery, a time for beach picnics and lazing in the ocean's languid waves, not lying in a hospital bed hooked up to a monitoring machine. Belle perched on her porch's wicker settee pondering JaneAlice's and Thompson Briephs' dual fates. The crimes created a paradox that didn't jibe with the Newcastle that Belle knew; in fact, she realized that if she hadn't met Rosco she would have had difficulty believing that Briephs' death and JaneAlice's comatose state were interconnected—or that the attacks had even been committed with lethal intent.

“I wonder,” she murmured aloud. “I wonder …” But the sudden yip of a dog in a neighboring street scrambled further speculation. Belle stirred out of her funk. Captain's Walk looked as serene as ever, the adjacent gardens with their hollyhocks and hostas and cosmos as quaint as they'd always been. Violent death didn't intrude in a place as picturesque as this. Belle stood, lazily locked her front door, stepped off the porch and strolled the brick walk down to the small family-run grocery store a block and a half from her house.