Death on the Diagonal - By Nero Blanc Page 0,78
would not have thought he had the brains required for these lexical leaps, but if he is your mystery constructor—or was—then I’ll be forced to eat my inky words.” Bartholomew peered at the puzzle.
“There’s a structural problem with this one, too,” she said. “But I guess this is no time to nitpick over details.”
“What problem?”
Belle pointed at the paper. “Well, you see how the crossword is broken into three sections . . . and there are no interconnecting words that flow from the center section to this part in the upper left, or to lower right? That type of flaw is a big no-no in the puzzle world.”
“Perhaps the mistake was done on purpose?”
“Not likely. The other puzzles had problems, as well. But what’s interesting is that the constructor dropped the Chip and Angel business favored in the other puzzles and is now focusing on Ryan and Kelly; albeit Robert RYAN and Grace KELLY . . . but the fact that the film titles associated with each actor are DEAD OR ALIVE and HIGH SOCIETY seems more than a simple coincidence.” Belle stood and spread the crosswords across Kerr’s desk. He positioned himself beside her.
“Well, we know RYAN certainly didn’t murder anyone,” he said. “Unless she did it from the grave. Which, given her personality, seems entirely possible.”
“No, no, Rosco and I believe these cryptics may have nothing to do with King Wenstarin Farms. We think they could be related to another case Rosco’s been working on that might have involved Chip Collins and his girlfriend, Angel.”
Kerr’s ears instinctively perked up. “And what case might that be? It’s not polite to keep secrets from your close friends, dear one.”
“You know I can’t tell you about any of Rosco’s investigations, Bartholomew,” Belle said with a smile. “So don’t even ask.”
“Well, you have all the evidence spread out before me, in my own office, and on my own desk, I might add. I can hardly see any purpose in keeping me in the dark.”
Belle attempted to backtrack by saying, “I’m afraid to disappoint you, but it has nothing to do with the society set.”
“Really? Well, if Grace KELLY wasn’t HIGH SOCIETY, I don’t know who was. And Chip Collins is as social as you’re going to get in Newcastle. So let’s go, lady, out with it.”
Belle scanned the four puzzles quickly; other than the single mention of WALT Disney in the “To Catch a Thief ” puzzle, there were no other possible references to Walter Gudgeon.
“Okay,” she said, “I’ll fill you in on what we’ve been working on, but I can’t mention the name of Rosco’s client. Understood?”
“Please, do go on, my dear. And out of respect to that fine man you’re married to, I promise not to mention a word of what you say, even if ‘Biz-y-Buzz’ figures out who’s at the center of it all . . . my lips are sealed.”
Belle proceeded to tell Kerr the entire Gudgeon story, being extra careful to omit his name. When she’d finished he observed a pragmatic, “Well. There’s no fool like an old fool. A terrible tale, but one that occurs more often than you might think—and all across the country.” He removed his enormous glasses and wiped them with a linen handkerchief that was as large as one of the formal dinner napkins favored at Sara’s showy table.
“You’d be surprised, Bellisima, how often this sordid sort of thing happens within the social set. After all, who has an excess of lucre? And who is most afraid of having the nasty tales displayed on the front pages of their local rags? Which is why these con artistes so often amble away scot-free. What’s a quarter of a million dollars if it keeps your name from being bandied about in coarse and malicious whispers?”
Belle sat up in her seat. “Are you saying this has happened before in Newcastle? Because I’m afraid this Dawn person is setting her sights on Sara.”
Kerr raised his hands high over his head. “I confess I know of no other similar confidence games being perpetrated on the Newcastle uppercrust. Although when I was vacationing in Palm Beach three years ago all the hubbub revolved around a mess that was nearly the carbon copy of the one you have described. Right down to the supposed kidney transplant. In fact, the mark was a horse person, and the dollar figure was the same: $250,000.”
“But Rosco’s client isn’t a horse person—”
“I was merely looking for parallels, dearest.” Kerr sighed. “This elderly gent