Death on the Diagonal Part 16

7. Bodybuilder 8. Port __ _, TX 9. Tax form info 10. Watchdog agcy.

11. Appear 12. Hold on to 15. Manhattan; abbr.

18. Bat wood 22. Letters on a Lucky pack 23. Rote 24. Notre Dame 25. ___ Park, CA 26. Portuguese city 28. Cheer 32. Elevator company 33. Hawaiian bird 34. Spanish women; abbr.

37. Author, Millay 38. Drops back 41. Sound track 45. Mil. rank 46. 70-Across; abbr.

47. Inner; comb.

48. Author, Deighton 52. Norms; abbr.

53. Chatter from 51-Across 54. Actress, Blakely 56. "The ___ Ape"

57. Singer, Fisher 58. s.p.a.ce MEASURE FOR MEASURE.

59. Editor's mark 60. Be in debt 61. Time for 50-Across 63. Tennis segments 65. Many times, for M for M penner 66. Coffeepot 67. Singer, Charles 68. Coloring agent

CHAPTER 27.

"I'll tell ya, they surely do like their puncture wounds up there at Wenstarin Farms," Lieutenant Lever observed with his customarily dry delivery. "It doesn't make life easy for their cleaning woman." He leaned back in his battered swivel chair as he spoke and would have hoisted his big feet onto his desktop if it weren't for Belle's presence. Abe and Rosco, who were also in the homicide detective's office, shared a look. The next thing you know, The next thing you know, the glance said, the glance said, Lever's going to push aside his overfull ashtray and pretend lighting up never entered his mind. Lever's going to push aside his overfull ashtray and pretend lighting up never entered his mind.

"At least this victim only got punched once," Al continued with a grumbling sigh. "I must say Curry looked pretty peaceful lying there. Surprised, of course, and not real happy that someone had taken a major poke at him with a kitchen knife . . ." Lever moved the ashtray an inch, then slid it back to its original spot as though he were pondering a chess move. Behind the closed door to his office, the station house was humming with the noise of early morning and the start of a new day trying to safeguard the citizens of Newcastle-which made the almost chilly stillness of Al Lever's office that much more noticeable.

"Of course, from my point of view," he continued, "the guy was supremely lucky he couldn't hear the hysterics going on around him after his untimely demise: Fiona screeching that Heather had murdered the love of her life out of jealousy; then Heather belting her big sis; hubby Michael getting in a huge 'I sincerely hope you weren't cheating on me' lather; Dad trying to intervene and getting c.o.c.ked in the head by both his loving daughters-accidentally it would have seemed, although Dr. Freud might have decided otherwise. And last but not least, Chip's girlfriend, Angel, fainting dead away the second she arrived on the scene." Al fiddled with his ashtray once again and shook his head.

"If that's what having tons of moolah does for 'ya, I sure don't want it. Give me the grief-stricken next of kin any time-unless, of course, that sad sack is the murderer. Anyway, besides the crossword that turned up, the reason I wanted our little pow-wow is this: I've got our Miss Heather locked up down in the hole, while the DA works up a murder-one charge, but the situation just seems too pat for me. Something else is in the air, and I can't put my finger on it." Lever paused briefly to gaze longingly at the mangled b.u.t.ts lying heaped in front of him, and Belle took advantage of the intervening silence.

"And where did you find the crossword, Al?" She was seated at the far end of the room, bent over a copy of the puzzle that had been retrieved from the crime scene.

It was Jones who answered. "Curry had it on him. It was folded in eighths in the rear left-hand pocket of his jeans-hanky-size. The place was torn apart, so consensus is that Heather was searching the house when she was interrupted by her husband. Was she looking for the puzzle? Who knows. But she was ticked off big-time; and that's how we pieced together the scenario for the DA. However, I'm with Al; something's fishy out there."

"Has Heather admitted to the charge?" Rosco asked.

"She ain't admittin' to nothin'," Lever said. "As soon as all fingers were pointed in her direction, the call went out to the family lawyer. She hasn't made a peep since. The attorney's on his way down from Boston now. Like we don't have enough of them in Newcastle?"

Abe stood, positioned himself behind Belle and looked over her shoulder. "So, what's the puzzle telling us? Anything?"

"I'm getting there," Belle told him as she went back to work. "One thing I can surmise is that the constructor is a brainy individual. The step-quote's from Shakespeare, and it's cleverly worked into the scheme."

"Or was was 'brainy,' " Rosco added, "if Curry created it." 'brainy,' " Rosco added, "if Curry created it."

"Which we can't automatically a.s.sume, Poly-crates," Lever interjected. "Even if his fingerprints are the only ones we I.D. on the paper, the thing could still be a plant, or it could have been handed to him earlier in the day. Heather could have even transferred his prints, then hidden the crossword on him after she knifed him-"

"If she's the guilty party," Abe interrupted. "We'd love to believe that; it sure would make life simple, but the woman swore up and down that she she's the guilty party," Abe interrupted. "We'd love to believe that; it sure would make life simple, but the woman swore up and down that she found found Curry already dead, the knife on the floor, and the house half ransacked-" Curry already dead, the knife on the floor, and the house half ransacked-"

"While Palamountain insisted he discovered his wife alone with the body." Al laughed. The sound was more like a bark. "Real loving duo, those two. Michael phones us, fingers his missus, summons the rest of the charming clan, then watches the fireworks explode while she gets the tender-loving-handcuff treatment and is stuffed into the back of a patrol car and genteelly 'escorted' off to my jail." Lever shook his head. The chair creaked under his weight, while Rosco, in his own equally nicked and timeworn metal chair, hunched forward.

"Okay," he said at length. "Give me the scene again: Fiona's railing at her sister and accusing her of having an affair with Curry-which causes Heather to take a whack at her?"

"The only word Fiona used was jealousy jealousy, Poly-crates. I won't venture a guess as to what she meant by that, but Palamountain apparently a.s.sumed affair affair is what his sis-in-law was referring to, because that's when he joined in the shouting match." is what his sis-in-law was referring to, because that's when he joined in the shouting match."

"But if Heather and Curry were romantically involved, why would she kill him?" Rosco continued. "The husband would have the stronger motive."

"There's the rub," Al mumbled.

"And who's to say Palamountain won't prove to be our guilty party?" Abe tossed in. "Just because he claims he found his wife with the knife in her hand doesn't mean she'll wind up being guilty of murder one. It won't be the first time NPD nabbed the wrong person."

"And what about Orlando and Kelly?" Rosco asked. "Did they show up at Tulip House, as well?"

"No, but I had one of my officers bring them up. They didn't have much to say. I think they were in a state of shock."

Belle glanced up at this point. "And Angel fainted when she and Chip appeared at the scene?"

"Yup," Al said. "Dropped like a stone. Her boyfriend didn't even have time to catch her. Of course, he seemed half-crocked at the time. Why do you ask?"

"ANGEL is in this puzzle," was Belle's quiet reply. "And CHIP was in an earlier one I received. That crossword was well executed and symmetrical; but this one isn't, nor was the one that was faxed to me at home the day before Ryan Collins was found dead. They were all constructed by the same person . . . or so I a.s.sume, as the handwriting seems to match. Or at least it's very close. Do you have any samples of Curry's?"

"My team is working on that," Abe answered. "Mr. Collins has promised to get me some of Jack's endorsed pay-checks, so I can make a comparison. But I'm not completely convinced that the handwriting on this puzzle matches the other two. And for a brainy brainy wordsmith, Curry doesn't seem to have put much else down on paper." wordsmith, Curry doesn't seem to have put much else down on paper."

"But these clues are printed," she said. "Can you still make a match from a signature?"

Jones gave her one of his patented smiles. "I can do anything, my dear." Then after a slight pause he added, "But you're right; because everything's printed, it makes the job a little tougher. Collins said that Curry might have drawn up some barn invoices, which would be printed."

Belle returned his smile then tilted her head and stared at the completed puzzle. She read the step-quote aloud. "O, WHAT MAY MAN WITHIN HIM HIDE THOUGH ANGEL ON THE OUTWARD SIDE. . . . Pretty creepy when found on a corpse, wouldn't you say?" She looked at Rosco. "The word DAWN is here, too."

Rosco nodded, but he didn't look happy about the revelation. "Dawn and and Angel Angel aren't unusual words. But if we're looking for a bogus Dawn in the Gudgeon case, Angel certainly fits the bill size-wise. Give her a wig and some high heels . . . Then again, the appearance of both names could be coincidental." aren't unusual words. But if we're looking for a bogus Dawn in the Gudgeon case, Angel certainly fits the bill size-wise. Give her a wig and some high heels . . . Then again, the appearance of both names could be coincidental."

"I thought you told me that the boys in blue didn't believe in coincidence when it came to criminal investigations," was her amused reply.

"We don't," Al bl.u.s.tered. "On the other hand-"

"On the other hand," Belle continued in the same easy tone, "when a dead man is discovered with a crossword stuffed in his pocket, it's not a bad idea to pick apart each solution and clue. Of course," she added, "this puzzle can't possibly refer to Curry's murder."

"How do you figure that?" Al asked her. "The simple fact that it was found on his body is good enough for me."

"But if he were the constructor, that would mean he knew who was going to kill him-which makes no sense. And I'm also wondering why would he have permitted a relatively small woman like Angel to stick a knife in his chest-if, in fact, she's the guilty party? With no signs of struggle anywhere? That's what you said, Al, isn't it? Even Heather would have had a difficult time attacking someone Curry's size."

Abe raised his hands and shook his head. "Let's get away from worrying about how big or small our killer is. This was a straight shot to the heart. The perp was facing Jack. There were no signs of forced entry, which means he recognized the person. They were in the kitchen together, supper was on the way, he had no reason to fear for his life. The knife went in. It was over before Curry knew it. So, no, there was no struggle involved. The way I see it, he was caught totally off guard."

"And let's not forget that this puzzle could be a plant," Al observed. "And that our murderer could be Michael Palamountain . . . who might be purposely trying to stymie the investigation by verbally blaming his wife, whom he knows will be found innocent-and relatively painlessly, too, given daddy's bucks and a fleet of high-end lawyers. So, Michael plants the puzzle and tosses in Angel's name, simply to add to the confusion."

"Also, Palamountain definitely knew that the phone lines at the Dew Drop Inn were still operational. Someone Someone had to fax that puzzle to Belle," Rosco said in quiet agreement. had to fax that puzzle to Belle," Rosco said in quiet agreement.

"Yeeeshh," Al groaned. "From where I sit, it looks like a bunch of people have an awful lot to hide-not just Heather."

Additional silence enveloped the foursome with each escaping into their private thoughts. Belle used the time to retrieve the crosswords she'd previously received, pulling them from a file folder and walking across to Al's desk to spread them across the surface. " 'Submission,' " she read, " 'To Catch a Thief,' and now 'Measure for Measure.' If I'm missing a hidden message, I don't know what it is."

"Unless you've got to submit submit to the to the thief thief in order in order measure measure your your catch catch," Lever wisecracked while Abe gave a stagy groan.

"Stick with police work, Big Al. You make a better detective than a linguist. Whatever you just said made absolutely no sense."

Belle rearranged the puzzles, then studied them again. "Okay . . . my initial take on this situation was that the word games referred to the case of arson-which seems pretty obvious: BLAZING SADDLES, and so on. But now I'm wondering if that wasn't just a big curveball, or something to pique my interest, which it ultimately did. We've got DAWN as the answer to 61-Down in 'Measure for Measure,' while WALT, or Mr. Disney Mr. Disney, appears at 31-Across in 'To Catch a Thief.' So here's my suggestion: I think it's possible, in fact likely, that these crosswords refer to the Dawn Davis con job. That they've been connected to that situation from the start." The three men looked at her; they didn't speak. "And . . . is it possible the fire and Gudgeon's quarter-of-a-million-dollar swindle are somehow intertwined?"

It was Lever who finally spoke. "Okay, Belle, I'll bite. What's the link? And if you can tie together the Curry and Ryan Collins murders, and come up with a guilty party, I'm making you a full-fledged member of the force. I don't care what your lovin' hubby says."

Belle chortled. "Hey, I'm just a cruciverbalist, Al. Like Abe said, you're the cop. You tell me."

CHAPTER 28.

The upshot of the Lever, Jones, Belle, and Rosco confab at NPD was the conclusion that two murders at the same location and only a week apart had to be connected. And the fact that the anonymous crosswords might have been created by one of the victims, and that they seemed to bear a link to the Gudgeon situation, meant that one scenario remained out in left field waiting to be resolved: the barn fire. It was for this reason that Rosco decided to clean up the mystery of the stable blaze once and for all by making a return visit to the Collins spread, where he intended to have a second face-to-face with the stonewalling Orlando Polk. This time, Rosco wasn't planning any polite, I'm-your-best-pal-in-the-world approach.

When he braked the Jeep in front of the King Wenstarin Farms main gate, Pete swung it open without delay, simply noting a pragmatic, "You're becoming quite the regular around here, aren't you, Polycrates? Next thing you know, you'll be taking riding lessons." He forced a jovial laugh, but it quickly turned into a pensive frown. "These folks are going through some real hard times. I sure hope you and your police buddies can get it straightened out for them."

"We're working on it, Pete. We're working on it." Rosco drove up the long lane and parked his Jeep behind one of the horse barns, out of sight of both stable B and Todd Collins's residence. He then walked directly to Polk's apartment and entered without knocking. The barn manager was sitting on his couch watching a midmorning talk show on the TV. When he saw Rosco he reached for the remote, silenced the set, and stood.

Rosco glanced up at the loft area. "Is Kelly here? I need to have a word with you in private."

"No," was the tenuous answer. Orlando appeared both confused and irritated, although his eyes bore a wary watch-fulness. He shook his long black ponytail in a poor attempt at indifference. "I took her to the airport early this morning. She's flying back to Louisville."

"So soon?"

"She beamed in with her mother after we came back from Tulip House last night. Her mom was at the hospital. The doctors don't think her father's going to make it through the week."

Rosco eased off his tough-guy routine momentarily. "Oh. Well, I'm sorry hear that. That's not easy."

"We've been expecting it. He's been ill for some time now. Kelly seems ready to handle it-at least, she says she is. But it's still going to be hard. It's a shame I never met the guy. There seems to be no point at this late date with him not able to recognize much . . . And then, of course, there's this whole awful mess with Jack." Polk shook his head. "What did Kelly say the other day? About trouble coming in packs of threes? Well, boy, that sure seems right."

Rosco pointed to the couch. "Why don't you sit back down?" When Orlando did, Rosco continued to speak from his standing position. He folded his arms across his chest in case the barn manager misinterpreted his stance or the reason for his presence. "I came here to get some answers; and I'm sorry that this is a difficult time for you and Kelly, and I'm sorry I'm going to be playing hardball, but I'm not leaving here until you come clean with me about this barn fire. You didn't start it; I know that. So who did?"

Orlando began to protest, but Rosco stopped him.

"Don't. Don't try to make a fool of me. I've been around too long. We've had two murders on this property in the last week. You were in the hospital for the first, but your alibi for last night is weak. You say you were with your wife, but where is she now? How do we know she hasn't just headed for the hills, and you'll be the next one to fly the coop?"

Polk stood, his black eyebrows pinched in rage. "You have no right to come in here and point fingers at Kelly. Go visit her family if you don't believe me. Go to Louisville. Go to that hospital and talk to her. We have nothing to hide."

"Yes, you do," Rosco pressed. "You didn't start that fire. Kelly didn't either, because she was in Kentucky. So who are you protecting, if it's not your wife? If this is a case of arson, you're an accessory to the fact by not divulging the truth. You'll pull just as much time as the perpetrator."

"I don't know," Orlando almost thundered. "I don't know who it was."

"But it wasn't you." Rosco posed this as a statement, not a question, but the answer was a low and stifled: "No. It wasn't me."

"How could you not know who started the blaze? You admit you were there in the stable when it began. Todd found you there. So, who are you protecting? It makes no sense for you to take the fall for this unless you're saving someone else's hide. So who is it?"

Orlando flopped back into the couch and shook his head. "Why can't you leave well enough alone, Polycrates?"

"Because I can't!" Rosco raised his voice and pointed an accusatory finger. "You were in that tack room with someone else, and that person started the fire-either accidentally or intentionally. Now, who was it?"

The two men remained motionless for a long time, Rosco studying Orlando, and the barn manager glaring accusingly back. Finally, sensing a change in Rosco's mood, Orlando shifted on the couch, slumping forward and staring at the floor. "You have to go," he mumbled. "I have nothing more to say."

"No. No," Rosco said, his lips forming a private smile. "I get it . . . I get it now. You really don't know who started the fire, do you?"

"That's what I've been saying all along."

"But you are are protecting someone, aren't you? I mean besides yourself?" protecting someone, aren't you? I mean besides yourself?"

Orlando didn't answer, and Rosco pushed ahead.

"Half of that stable still stands. Something tells me that if I go over there right now and climb up into the hay loft I might just find a cozy little nest built for two. And I don't mean something made by a couple of turtle doves. Am I right?"

The barn manager remained stony faced.

"So when the fire broke out you were having yourself a roll in the hay, as it were, with some secret honey. All this while your wife is back in Louisville looking after her dying father. What a charmer, you are. Of course, you need to take the fall for the fire, rather than have Kelly find out what you were up to."

Polk placed his head in his hands, but still made no reply.

"But you know something, my friend? What you were doing-and with whom-doesn't change a thing. Because if we determine that the blaze was a torch job, you're still an accessory to the fact. Unless, of course, you care to come clean with what you know." Rosco walked toward the door, then turned back. "It doesn't make any difference to me who you were shacked up with, but believe me it's going to come out sooner or later. I gather it was either Fiona or Heather, which obviously compounds your prob-" Rosco stopped himself midword.

Orlando lifted his head and made eye contact with Rosco for the first time in minutes, then he glanced away again. It was clear he knew that the detective had made the necessary leap to the truth. He shook his head, his ponytail swaying in defeat. "It was real stupid. I don't know what I could have been thinking. Kelly probably would have understood, after a while, but not-"

"But not Mr. Collins." Rosco took in a large breath and let the air out slowly. "You were up there in that loft with the boss's wife. Of course, you couldn't blab." He moved over and sat on the couch's armrest. "So Ryan Collins sneaks out the back of the barn and runs up to the Big House just in time to tell Todd she's returning from her evening ride; how very ironic." The barn manager failed to acknowledge the dig, so Rosco added, "And you don't have any idea who was in the tack room?"

Polk shook his head.

"How about the whack on the back of your head? Falling timber? Or did someone come after you? Because if you were intentionally hit and then left to die in the blaze, that's a murder attempt, and it doesn't make for a pretty picture."

"I can't answer that, either. All I can tell you is that something hit me. Hard."

"Well, Ryan Collins's death was no accident, and you're the only person in the world with an ironclad alibi. Do you think your boss had any knowledge of this sordid business between you and his wife?"

"I guess you'd have to ask him that."

CHAPTER 29.