husband's car. Cora Felton, the

Puzzle Lady, created a special

puzzle,just for him, to help me

break the news. Chuck loved it. I

can't thank her enough.

Mimi printed the document, stuck it in the fax machine. She smoothed out the puzzle, stuck it in behind. Using the keypad, she punched in the number of the Gazette. As she did, it appeared in a little window on the machine. But nothing else happened. Mimi frowned. She pushed the button marked START, was rewarded by a dial tone, followed by a ring. After two rings there was a scratchy tone, a loud hum, and the two pages were sucked into the machine.

When it was finished, the machine shut off. Mimi was pleased. She'd done it. Except the two papers wound up on the floor. Mimi wondered if there was any way to avoid that, if it was a sign of her inexperience.

Mimi stooped down, picked up the papers, set them on the desk.

There was the corner of a paper poking out from beneath the blotter. She must have moved it using the keypad or the mouse. Mimi lifted the blotter, pulled out the paper.

It was a hundred-dollar bill. Bright, crisp, new. Not a crease in it.

Well, that was lucky. A quick hundred bucks Chuck must have lost. If she hadn't moved the blotter, she'd never have found it.

Mimi stopped.

There was the corner of something else poking out. Moving the bill must have dislodged it. Could it be another hundred-dollar bill? That certainly seemed unlikely. Even so.

Mimi moved the keypad aside, lifted the edge.

Gasped.

The top of the desk was covered with hundred-dollar bills. New, crisp, clean hundreds. They were not stacked, but spread out thin so as not to make a bulge. It was hard to tell at a glance, but there must have been fifty.

Five thousand dollars?

The phone rang.

That startled her. It was the fax line. Was she getting a fax? If so, how did she do it?

Mimi snatched up the phone, expecting to hear some terrible tone telling her she'd done something wrong.

"Hello? Did you just send me a fax?"

"What?"

"This is Ned Browning, at the Bakerhaven Gazette. Did you just fax us something?"

"Oh, it went through? I wasn't sure I'd done it right."

"Good guess." Ned sounded hearty, amused. "You just sent us two blank pages. I assume that wasn't what you wanted."

"Two blank pages?"

"Yes. We're pleased to get faxes, but this one was less than helpful. Can I assume you were trying to send us something else?"

"I sent you two pages."

"I'm sure you did. Tell me, did you read them when you sent them?"

"Of course I did."

"I mean when you put them in the machine."

"I beg your pardon?"

"When you put them in the machine. Could you read what you were sending?"

"Of course."

"Well, that's the problem. You put 'em in backwards, and faxed me the blank side."

"I put 'em in frontwards."

"Yes, you did. With the writing toward you. Put 'em in with the writing away from you, and we'll be in business. What's this about, by the way?"

"Oh, it was nothing."

"You got that right. Fax it to me again. If it's not self-explanatory, I'll give you a call."

"But-"

The click of the editor hanging up the phone cut her off.

Mimi slammed down the phone in exasperation. Now she didn't want to send the fax. In fact, thinking it over, it probably had been a bad idea. She had more important things to think about. Five thousand of them, to be exact. But the guy had her number-must have caller ID or star 69, or something-and if the fax didn't come through he'd call to ask why. It was going to be more trouble to explain why she wasn't faxing the pages than to just send them.

Mimi put the pages in the right way this time, punched in the number, pressed START. She barely paid attention while the pages went through.

What was five thousand dollars doing under the blotter of her husband's desk?

Chapter 12.

CORA FELTON OPENED a bleary eye, gazed up to find her niece glaring down at her.

Sherry was in bathrobe and slippers. She hadn't combed her hair, put on makeup, or even splashed water on her face. She looked like a poster girl for the new horror film, Zombie Niece from Hell.

"God, I hope I'm dreaming," Cora muttered.

Sherry shook Cora's arm again. At least Cora deduced it was again, and that an earlier impression of a great white shark eating her arm was just a nightmare.

"Damn it!" Sherry said.

"Well, when you put it that way." Cora pushed back the covers, raised her head. "Sherry, what did I do now? I've been asleep. All I did last night was play bridge. At a tenth of a cent a point. The worst I'm guilty of is gambling. I didn't get busted, and I won twenty bucks."

Sherry flung the Bakerhaven Gazette down on Cora's chest. "Page six," Sherry said, and stalked out the door.

Cora grabbed the paper. What now? Had she blurted out that Sherry was getting married? No, she hadn't. Even when the girls hinted at it during the game. With rumors of a proposal right there in the Country Kitchen. Cora had neither confirmed nor denied. She had pled ignorance. A reasonable plea. She was ignorant then, just as she was ignorant now.

Cora folded the paper open to page six.

And there it was.

PUZZLE LADY SAVES THE DAY.

There was her picture. And there was the puzzle she gave Mimi. According to the article, it had won Mimi's husband's heart.

Cora flung the paper down, stumbled into the bathroom, groped around for her toothbrush.

Minutes later, more or less awake, she found Sherry in the kitchen making coffee. Sherry was slamming the dishware around with more than her usual vehemence.

"I don't see what's so bad," Cora said.

"It was a private puzzle for a particular purpose. It wasn't for general consumption."

"You realize how stupid you sound?"

"Damn it, Cora, this is serious."

"Why? I have puzzles in the paper every day."

"Yes. Written and paid for."

"Is that the problem? That you didn't get paid?"

"Indirectly."

"I'm going to strangle you."

"The feeling is mutual."

"What's the problem?"

"It's not your puzzle."

"No kidding."

"It's not my puzzle either."

"What?"

Sherry told Cora about adapting the puzzle from the one in the book.

"Well, that was pretty stupid," Cora said.

Sherry glared at her.

Cora put up her hand. "Not that I blame you. After all, you have a lot on your mind."

Sherry donated part of what was on her mind to her aunt.

"My, my, such language," Cora said. "I'd be willing to bet some of those words aren't in Webster's."

"You make a ridiculous promise. Then you let that woman put the puzzle in the paper."

"I had no idea she was going to put it in the paper." Cora smiled at her niece. "Come on, Sherry. What's the harm? It's just a dumb old puzzle. Who could possibly care?"

Chapter 13.

BENNY SOUTHSTREET OWED his bookie forty bucks. Which wouldn't have been a problem. Benny had forty bucks. Only he'd wagered it with another bookie on Citrus Cloud in the fourth race at Aqueduct. Citrus Cloud had done pretty well. Out of a field of six, the horse had finished third. Unfortunately, Benny had bet him to win. The resultant hole in Benny's bank account had not been conducive to the gentleman's health, as Frankie "the Shirt" (as in "you bet your shirt") Finklestein tended to frown on those who did not cover their marker within a reasonable period of time, reasonable being determined as whatever Frankie decided it was.