And a Puzzle to Die On (The Puzzle Lady Mysteries, Band 6) - Softcover

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Parnell Hallis the author of the acclaimed Stanley Hastings mystery novels and the Steve Winslow courtroom dramas, as well as five other Puzzle Lady mysteries. Nominated for the Edgar, the Shamus, and the Lefty Awards, he lives in New York City, where he is working on his next Puzzle Lady mystery.

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When nerdy cruciverbalist Harvey Beerbaum throws a birthday bash for Cora Felton at the Bakerhaven Library, it's no surprise that the centerpiece, a huge cake decorated like a crossword puzzle, is a complete bust--until a corpse thrown from the second floor stacks hits it dead center and fills in 14 down. Cora may hate birthdays almost as much as she hates crossword puzzles--but when it comes to solving crimes, no one can hold a candle to the Puzzle Lady.

"From the Hardcover edition.

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1

"Is it a milestone?" Iris Cooper asked. The Bakerhaven First Selectman pulled her sweater around her shoulder with one hand while balancing her coffee and muffin in the other. It was late October, Connecticut foliage season was giving up the ghost, and early winter winds were whipping mini tornadoes of dead leaves along the street.

Sherry Carter, ambushed on her way into Cushman's Bake Shop, shrugged evasively. Sherry wore a baby-blue turtleneck and suede jacket, new for fall. "Cora says at her age they're all milestones."

"You mean she won't say?" Harvey Beerbaum asked. The expression on the portly cruciverbalist's face indicated that such behavior was inexplicable, if not downright subversive.

Sherry smiled. "There are two things my aunt refuses to remember. One is birthdays. The other is wedding anniversaries."

"Of course, when you have as many wedding anniversaries as Cora, that's understandable," Iris Cooper said. No one quite knew how many former husbands Cora had.

"But she only has one birthday," Harvey persisted peevishly. "How old was she last year?"

"What a question!" Iris Cooper exclaimed. "It's not polite to ask a woman's age!"

"You asked if it was a milestone," Harvey pointed out.

"That's entirely different. Milestones are important. They need to be noted, celebrated, commiserated with over." Iris frowned. "Is that correct usage? I wish Cora were here to tell me."

Sherry Carter suppressed a smile. If the truth be known, her aunt Cora wouldn't know a grammatical mistake if it stood up on its hind legs, stuck its thumbs in its ears, waggled its fingers, and said, "Nyah, nyah, you ain't got no culture, does you, Miss Puzzle Penning Person?" Sherry actually wrote the nationally syndicated crossword puzzle column her aunt got credit for. Cora merely supplied the sweet-faced, white-haired, grandmotherly picture that accompanied it.

Harvey and Iris didn't know that.

"Come on," Harvey insisted. "What are we going to do?"

"What do you mean?" Sherry said.

"Well, we have to have a party."

"Cora doesn't want a party."

"Nonsense. Everyone wants a party. Isn't that right, Iris? Cora is our town's most famous citizen. She should certainly be celebrated."

"Who should be celebrated?" Aaron Grant said, strolling up. The young reporter had clearly overslept. His shirt was unbuttoned and his tie was untied. He had shaved, but his curly dark hair was dry and uncombed, indicating he hadn't showered.

Sherry's face lit up when she saw him. "Ah, just in time. Aaron, will you please help me explain Cora wouldn't want us to make a fuss."

"Make a fuss about what?"

"It's her birthday," Harvey Beerbaum said.

"Really?" Aaron said. "We should do something."

Sherry groaned at this unexpected sabotage. "No, we shouldn't. Cora wouldn't want us to do anything. She's a very private person."

"Very private people do not do TV commercials," Iris pointed out. "Come on, Sherry. Cora's had a hard time of it lately. I bet her spirits could use a lift."

"Cora's just fine," Sherry retorted. "She was going to get married, it didn't work out. If I told you how many times Cora thought she was going to get married and it didn't work out . . ."

"Nearly as many as the times it did?" Aaron asked mischievously.

Chief Harper came out of the bakery carrying a coffee and a cranberry muffin. He'd already nibbled the top off the muffin, and looked somewhat sheepish about it.

"Eating on the run, Chief?" Aaron asked.

Harper flushed. "Aaron Grant, if you put that in the paper . . ."

"Oh, I think we'll come up with something better, even on a slow news day."

"You could write about Cora's party," Iris Cooper suggested.

Chief Harper frowned. "Party? What party?"

"It's Cora's birthday," Iris informed him.

"Really," Chief Harper said. "Is it a milestone?"

"See?" Iris Cooper told Harvey. "That's the way to ask."

"Why? It doesn't get an answer."

"No. But it's the proper form of the question. I thought you were a wordsmith, Harvey."

"Pooh." It was one of the prissy man's strongest epithets. For a second he considered apologizing.

"What's this about a party?" Chief Harper was clearly torn between wanting to finish the conversation and wanting to get to the police station to eat his muffin. The good man seemed just on the verge of jamming the pastry into his mouth.

"We're planning a party for Cora," Harvey Beerbaum told him. "To celebrate her birthday, whichever one it may be."

"I'm telling you," Sherry said, "you can throw a party, but Cora isn't going to come."

Harvey Beerbaum was undaunted. "All right, then. We'll throw a surprise party."

"What?" Iris Cooper said.

"Certainly," Harvey said. "That's precisely the thing to do. Plan a secret party as a big surprise."

"Cora likes surprises less than she likes birthdays," Sherry Carter warned.

Harvey Beerbaum was having too much fun to notice. "Oh, this will be delightful. We'll do it in secret. Cora will be the only one in town who doesn't know we're planning it. Then, on the night of her birthday . . . When is her birthday?"

"Next Thursday."

"So soon?"

"Sorry it's such short notice. Usually I start discussing Cora's birthday a good month or two before the event."

The irony went right over Harvey's head. "Then we'll have to move fast." His eyes widened at the sight of a jack-o'-lantern in the window of Cushman's Bake Shop. "Good lord. Is that . . ."

"What?"

"Halloween? No, that's Wednesday. Too bad. It would have been a nice theme."

"Nice theme?" Iris Cooper said. "Why, Harvey Beerbaum. I suppose you'd like me to come dressed as a witch?"

"Not Halloween." Harvey tugged at his collar uncomfortably, noticing for the first time the First Selectman's nose was rather pointed and she was rather thin.

"Harvey, this is a bad idea," Sherry said.

"Oh, nonsense." Harvey was not to be stopped. "So, the party's Thursday, November first. That's all that matters. We can work out the details later. The important thing is, no one tells Cora."



2



"Harvey's planning a party," Sherry called as she entered the front door. Sherry was surprised Cora hadn't come out to meet her. Even Cora couldn't sleep through the entire afternoon. Sherry wondered if anything was wrong. "Hello?" she called again.

Sherry needn't have worried. Cora came bustling into the living room, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, clutching her drawstring purse. "Oh, it's you," she said. "I heard the door."

Cora's cornflower-blue eyes were wide. Her cheeks were flushed. She seemed rather agitated, almost flustered.

"Aunt Cora. Are you all right?"

"Of course I'm all right. Why wouldn't I be all right?"

That brought Sherry up short. The reason for Cora Felton not being all right was usually alcohol. Cora had been on the wagon for some time. Still, there was always the danger of a relapse.

"So, what have you been doing?" Sherry...