He didn't let on, said casually, "Whose pictures are these?"

"Cora Felton's. She dropped them off yesterday, never picked them up."

"What time yesterday?"

"Early afternoon."

Sam Brogan came up, practically dragging a young man wearing a baseball cap. "This kid was on the desk yesterday. Whaddya think he saw?"

"Don't make me guess, Sam," Harper said irritably.

"Tell him," Sam ordered.

"A woman loading chairs into a car."

"You're kidding! When?"

The kid was sulky, probably figured he was in trouble for not reporting this before. "I dunno. Sometime in the afternoon."

"Tell him from where," Sam prompted.

"Unit 12."

"You recognize the woman?"

"Yeah. It was that Puzzle Lady woman."

"Are you sure?"

"Sure I'm sure. It took a while. She had to load 'em one at a time."

"The guest didn't help her?"

The kid crinkled his nose. "Guest?"

"The guy who rented the unit," Harper said impatiently. "Mr. Southstreet. He didn't help her carry the chairs?"

"I didn't see him. Just her."

"Oh. So you don't even know if he was there."

"He was there, all right."

"I thought you didn't see him."

"I didn't. Not then. But when she got there, I saw him let her in."

"You saw him?"

"I didn't see him. She knocked on the door. It opened. She said, 'Hi,' and went in."

"She said, 'Hi'?"

"Yeah. I think she said his name, but I couldn't tell. Not through the office window."

"You saw this through the office window?"

"When she got there. Not when she took the chairs. I was outside then."

"And you're sure it was Cora Felton?"

"Oh, yeah."

"And Mr. Southstreet let her in?"

"Sure he did. That's how I knew it was okay she took the chairs. He gave 'em to her."

Chief Harper's cell phone rang. He jerked it out, growled, "Yeah?"

"Chief, it's Dan. I'm down at the lab. The bullets match. And that's not all."

"What do you mean?"

"You know the fingerprints we keep on file-you, me, Sam, the doc, all the other likely people who might have touched something at a crime scene-so we can eliminate 'em?"

"What's your point?" Harper said irritably.

"You're not going to believe whose prints are on the gun."

Chapter 38.

DOWN AT THE station Chief Harper and Dan Finley took the handcuffs off Cora Felton and offered her her one phone call. Since Becky Baldwin had been present when she was arrested, Cora didn't need it.

Becky looked across the visiting-room table. "I feel funny about this, Cora. Benny was my client."

"He's dead. Doesn't that resolve the conflict of interest?"

"Not if you killed him."

"I didn't kill him."

"That's going to be tough to prove."

"Whoa! Hold on a minute! You're a defense attorney. You don't have to prove I didn't kill him. The prosecution has to prove I did."

"They can. Which throws the ball back in our court. Once they prove you killed him, we have to prove you didn't."

"Maybe I should hire another lawyer." "Feel free. They're just going to tell you the same thing. Your fingerprints are on the murder weapon. You took pictures of the stolen chairs. As if the pictures aren't damaging enough, the chambermaid's caved in and admitted you were the one who took them." "The pictures, not the chairs."

"The boy from the front desk saw you take the chairs. Even if I could shake his testimony, they can prove you took them, because you gave them to Harvey Beerbaum yesterday afternoon. Which is double-plus-ungood, since it means you took 'em right around the time the doctor says Benny was killed. According to the chambermaid, you photographed the chairs around eleven-thirty, the guy from the Photomat says you dropped off the film around noon, and Harvey Beerbaum says you called him at three-thirty and came over by four."

"The guy from the Photomat's pretty dreamy, isn't he?"

"I beg your pardon?" "He ask you out yet?"

Becky blushed. "Cora, you're charged with murder." "Yeah, but I didn't do it. Just between you and me, isn't the guy a hunk?"

"How can you even think about such a thing?" Cora shrugged. "Be a nice break for Sherry. Get you out of Aaron's way. Head off any pass the guy might make at her."

"You think he'd hit on Sherry?"

"You didn't see the shot of her in a bikini."

"Cora, stick with me here. You're in jail."

"Yes. You will get me out, now, won't you?"

"I don't think you understand how serious this is."

"Oh, yes, I do. I'm charged with murder. Unless Benny Southstreet turns out to be a police officer, it's as bad as it gets. Can you arrange bail?"

"It's not easy in a capital case."

"Oh, come on. I'm not a flight risk."

"I'll certainly raise the issue. Right now I'm trying to get the puzzle."

"What puzzle?"

"The puzzle found on the body. The police think it's yours. Please tell me it isn't."

"Hand to God."

"Are you sure? Did you get a good look at it?"

"I haven't seen it."

"Then how do you know it isn't?"

"Becky, trust me on this. I had nothing to do with the puzzle found by the body."

"What if it's the one you gave that housewife?"

"Becky, honey, in that context, housewife could be seen as a pejorative term." Cora hoped it was. It sounded like something a linguist might say.

The phrase rang no alarm bells with Becky. Though other things did. "If it's the same puzzle Benny claimed you stole from him, that would make a pretty tough case."

"I thought it was pretty tough anyway."

"You're not being very helpful."

"I don't know anything that will help. Stop torturing me with what-if-it's-the-same-puzzle, and go find out if it is."

"I can do better than that," Becky said. "I'm gonna get a copy and bring it in here for you to solve."

"Oh, for Christ's sake! You think I wanna sit in jail solving a puzzle?"

"Maybe it will get you out of jail."

"Yeah, yeah, right. The guy died with a crossword puzzle by him, and when you solve it it says, 'Cora didn't do it.' Gee, Becky, come back to planet Earth."

"You don't wanna see the puzzle?"

"Give it to Sherry. She's good enough at solving them."

"I thought she was busy with her matrimonial problems."

"What's more important? Her wedding, or my murder?"

"Your loopy logic is hard to follow, at best. Do you have anything practical to add in your defense? Aside from the bald assertion that you didn't do it?"

"I'd take a good hard look at Chuck Dillinger."

"How come?"

"Southstreet may have ripped him off for some money."

"What makes you think so?"

"Evidence would indicate."

"What kind of evidence?"

"Circumstantial."

"How solid is this circumstantial evidence?"

"Actually, it's more of an inference."

"Cora."

"What do you care? You're not presenting this to a jury. I'm just telling you how things are. There is a strong possibility, which I can't begin to prove, that Benny Southstreet may have ripped Chuck Dillinger off. Chuck Dillinger might be a perfectly good suspect."