"Okay," Cora said. "We could call the police, but that would be messy, and we don't want things to be messy."

Marge shook her head. "Uh-uh."

"Or I could wait until Benny Southstreet comes back and talk to him about it."

"Perfect," Marge said.

"Only he won't be back till after two, and I'm not waiting around till then."

"So come back."

"Fine. In the meantime, we have these chairs."

"What about them?"

"I don't want to leave them here."

"Well, you can't take them."

"In that case, you're a witness. You'd better look them over carefully, because you're the only one besides me who knows they're here."

"Oh, come on."

"Hey, if these things disappear it'll be my word against his. I'll need you to back me up. You better be ready to identify the chairs."

"Hey, listen, you tell your friend's daughter this is one hell of a tough job."

Cora grinned. "Kid, I like your style. Let me see if I can let you off the hook."

"What do you mean?"

Cora fumbled in her purse, held up a disposable camera, and smiled her trademark Puzzle Lady smile, just as if she were doing a commercial for Kodak. "Let's document the evidence."

Chapter 32.

CORA HAD PURCHASED a disposable camera, not because she gave a damn about photography, but because the dreamy new guy at the mall Photomat had looked promising, until the clueless son of a bitch had the gaucheness to inquire if her niece was married. Cora hadn't taken a picture since.

The Photomat booth attendant seemed totally unaware of his previous faux pas. He shook his curly dark hair out of his eyes, favored Cora with a goofy, endearing grin. "Miss Felton, good to see you."

"Yeah, yeah." Cora plunked the disposable camera on the counter. "How soon can I get prints of these?"

"One hour."

"I'll try to be back."

Cora drove out to Harvey Beerbaum's. The little man was in the process of constructing some godawful crossword puzzle when she came in.

"It's a cryptic," Harvey said. "Care to solve it?"

The phrase when pigs fly occurred to Cora. "I got more important things, Harvey. I found your chairs."

"Really. Where are they?"

"I can't tell you that."

"What!?"

"I promised."

"Cora, please tell me you're kidding."

"Sort of. I know who took your chairs. I'm going to get 'em back. What more do you need to know?"

"You're sure they're mine."

"Absolutely. If you don't believe me, I'll show you a picture."

"You have a picture?"

"Not yet, but I will."

"Cora-"

"The main thing is, I've seen your chairs and I'm going to get 'em back. Now then, did you make a report to the police?"

"Of course I did."

"Too bad. When I produce the chairs they'll wanna know why. If I don't tell 'em they'll accuse me of compounding a felony and conspiring to conceal a crime."

"Are you doing that?"

"Of course I am. But it's for your own good. You don't want to advertise that your house is so easy to break into. You'll have a gaggle of robbers outside waiting their turn."

"A gaggle of robbers?"

"I know it's geese, but I don't think they steal things. Is there a term for robbers? What would it be, a theft of robbers?"

"So what can I tell the police?"

"Tell 'em you got new chairs."

"That would be a lie."

"So don't tell 'em anything. It's not like they're gonna come running to ask if you got your chairs back. It's an unsolved crime. If you don't mention it, they won't mention it."

"And you won't tell me who took them?"

"I can't."

"Was the person who took my chairs the guy who was bidding on them?"

"No."

"What? Then how did you ever find them?"

"That's a long story."

"I've got time."

"I can't tell you, Harvey. When I can, I will."

"Does the person who took my chairs know that you've discovered that he took my chairs?"

"You're assuming it's a man?"

"Is it a woman?"

"I can't tell you, Harvey."

"Then why'd you bring it up?"

"To avoid the question."

"What question?"

"Good. It's working."

Cora beamed at Harvey, and ducked out the door.

Chapter 33.

BENNY SOUTHSTREET WASN'T back by two o'clock. Cora knew because she was there at one forty-five, hoping to beat Mr. Wilbur to the punch. But Benny wasn't back.

Either that or he'd come and gone. What a revolting development that would be. Particularly if he had taken the chairs. No, they were there. Cora could see them through the gap in the curtain.

There was no sign of the chambermaid. She must have finished her rounds. Evidently it wasn't a full-time job. That was something her feigned friend's daughter ought to know.

Cora got in her car, drove across the street to the Ace Hardware parking lot, and settled down to wait.

Benny never showed. Neither did Mr. Wilbur. Two o'clock came and went without so much as a single car. By two-fifteen, Cora was fed up.

Okay, what now?

Well, for one thing, the photos would be ready.

Cora pulled out of the hardware store parking lot, headed for the mall.

She never got there.

A car going the other direction looked suspiciously familiar. Cora pulled into the next driveway, turned around, and gave chase.

Sure enough, the car was being piloted by a feisty redhead with a chip on her shoulder and fire in her eyes.

Brenda Wallenstein drove straight into town, pulled up, and parked. She got out of the car and walked down the side street to the pizza parlor.

And Becky Baldwin's office.

Cora parked in front of the library, crossed the street, and peered down the alley. Sure enough, Brenda Wallenstein had not driven all the way from New York City just for a Coke and a slice. Instead, she went in the door with the modest sign REBECCA BALDWIN, ATTORNEY-AT-LAW.

Cora wished she could follow. Brenda was Sherry's best friend. And her ex-husband's wife. If this had anything to do with Sherry's impending marriage, Cora had to know.

Could she follow her upstairs and listen through the door? Not a good idea. Becky's one-room office shared the landing with a pediatrician. Cora would stand out like a sore thumb. On the other hand, it was a nice day. Becky would be likely to have her window open.

Cora knew right where the window was. Becky always made her sit on the sill to smoke. Cora hurried past the pizza parlor, and ducked around the corner.

Sure enough, the window was open. Cora wondered if she'd be able to hear.

She needn't have worried. In college Brenda'd been a cheerleader who always projected to the back of the bleachers.

Becky Baldwin, on the other hand, was an attorney. She only raised her voice when necessary. Cora never heard her greeting, but it wasn't hard to figure out.

"What the hell do you think I'm doing here?" Brenda stormed. "I don't like being played for a fool. Do I look like a fool?"

Becky evidently refrained from comment.

"It's a yes or no question, Becky. Does he have to check in with you or not?"

Apparently Becky sidestepped the issue.

"I'm not asking you to violate a confidential communication. I'm asking for a rule of law. Does a client on probation have to check in with his lawyer?"

Brenda must not have liked Becky's answer because she had a few particularly choice comments regarding Becky's chosen profession. Cora considered taking notes.

When Brenda slammed out the door unenlightened five minutes later, Cora was right on her heels. Keeping in the shadows, Cora followed Brenda back to her car.

Ordinarily, Cora would have confronted Brenda, demanded to know what the hell she thought she was doing. But it was a ticklish situation. Sherry's impending marriage was fragile enough. The least little thing might shatter it. And Brenda was not a little thing. Brenda was a force of nature, an insanely jealous woman with the predatory instincts of a tigress. If she made a move on Sherry, Cora would reluctantly hurl herself in Brenda's path, sacrificing herself for her niece. But if the woman had no such intention, there was no reason to rile her. Let her leave town.