Puzzled to Death by Parnell Hall

Author:Parnell Hall [Hall, Parnell]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 978-0-307-77956-4
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2011-02-01T16:00:00+00:00

SHERRY, SITTING BESIDE CORA FELTON ON THE PASSENGER seat of the red Toyota, said, “I like the way you included me in your decision.”

“What do you mean?” Cora asked innocently.

“Well, here we are, not on our way to Chief Harper’s with a bunch of vital information. Instead, we’re out investigating on our own.”

“Sherry, if we go to Chief Harper now he’ll have no choice but to arrest Billy Pickens. Which would be a terrible mistake.”

“At least it would be his mistake. And he couldn’t go to jail for it.”

“Sherry, give me a break. Do you really think Billy Pickens did it?”

“No, I don’t. But that’s not the point.”

“How can that not be the point?”

“Billy may be innocent, but that’s not why you’re doing this. You’re running around making your own investigation and holding out on Chief Harper—which is something you know you shouldn’t do—just so you won’t have to think about the tournament. Because you’re so freaked out about this puzzle-commentary bit Harvey dreamed up.”

“Well, you heard him,” Cora said defensively. “Am I imagining it or not? Didn’t he sound like he’s looking to show me up?”

“Maybe. But it’s sort of a self-fulfilling prophesy.”

“A what?”

Sherry snorted in disgust. “For someone who’s supposed to be a linguist, you might want to brush up on a few common phrases. I mean Harvey Beerbaum has no idea at all you might be a fake. But you think he does. So you act like he does. So he notices you acting like he does. He’s not suspicious. But he gets suspicious. See what I mean?”

“Yeah,” Cora said. “But what’s the difference? If he’s suspicious now, who cares how he got that way? Unless you just wanna load me up with guilt.”

“Heaven forbid.”

“So let’s concentrate on the murders. If Billy Pickens didn’t do it, then someone else did. It’s up to us to find out who.”

Cora pulled up in front of Olsens’ Bed-and-Breakfast, a two-story colonial just three blocks from the center of town. She and Sherry got out, went up on the porch, and knocked on the door.

An elderly gentleman in a baggy herringbone sweater answered their knock. He was tall, thin, had gray hair, and carried a pipe. “Yes?” he inquired. His voice, Cora decided, sounded like rust.

“Mr. Olsen?”

“That’s right.”

“I’m Cora Felton. This is my niece, Sherry. We’re looking for Paul Thornhill.”

“I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

“Paul Thornhill’s not staying here?”

“Yes, he is. But I believe he’s gone out.”

“With his wife?”

“No, I think he went out alone.”

“So she’s here,” Cora said.

“She might be.”

Cora blinked. This was like pulling teeth. “Why do you say she might be?”

“Well, I didn’t see Mrs. Thornhill go out. But maybe she went out without me seein’.”

Not likely, Cora figured. “We’d like to talk to her. Where might she be?”

“In her room.”

“And where is that?”

“Second floor, to the right.” The man chewed pensively on his pipe stem. “Only you can’t go up there.”

“Why not?”

“It wouldn’t be right. A woman alone and all. You really wanna see her, I’ll get my wife.

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