She heard it as soon as she got in the door. The unmistakable sound of a baby in distress. Or hungry. Or displeased. Or unhappy. Or desperately afraid the adults in the immediate vicinity might be enjoying a moment of peace and quiet. It sounded familiar. Which was not surprising. Any baby crying would sound familiar. But it sounded like a particular baby.

Sure enough, it was.

Mimi Dillinger stood, coffee in hand, Darlene on hip, talking to a young man in a gray suit and purple tie, who appeared smitten enough with her feminine wiles not to notice the spawn of the devil she held. Mimi ignored the baby, too, as completely as if it were someone else's child that was making all that racket, and listened intently to what the young man was telling her. Of course, it occurred to Cora, she would have to listen intently just to hear what the young man was telling her. Even so, she seemed to have more than just a casual interest.

Cora perked up. Had she uncovered the young mother's secret love life, after all?

Apparently not. Either that or it was rather kinky, because the guy sat down at a table with an attractive young lady in a nurse's uniform, who didn't look like she was up for a menage a trois-but then, one never knew.

Mimi, left alone, descended on Cora. "You gave my husband a ride."

Cora braced for an accusation. Did Mimi suspect her of sabotaging the car?

No, she didn't. "I can't thank you enough. I got a nail in my tire. That's what I was doing at the garage."

"Oh. Do you have one of those teeny spares?"

Mimi looked blank. "Teeny spares? I don't know. I didn't try to change it. Just drove to the garage."

"Little hard on the rim."

"That's what the mechanic said. At least I think that's what he said. Darlene was in a mood."

"Hard to believe." Cora waggled her fingers at the baby, was glad she didn't bite them.

"Yes, well, I just wanted to say it's horrible, this whole thing. I know you didn't do it."

"Spread it around. I'm hoping to taint the jury pool."

Mimi wasn't sure whether to laugh. "Ah, yes. Well, I don't know if this helps, but about the break-in..."

"What about it?"

"You wanted to know why Chuck said the study. When nothing was missing. And it was the kitchen window that was broken."

"Yeah?"

"Well, something's missing."

"What?"

"An ice pick."

Cora's eyes narrowed. "You're kidding."

"I just noticed. Because it was in the kitchen, not the study, and who notices an ice pick? But I opened the drawer to get a spatula, and it wasn't there. The ice pick, I mean. Which doesn't make any sense. Why would someone steal an ice pick?"

"You're sure you didn't misplace it?"

"How could I misplace it? I never use it. But it was in the drawer."

"When's the last time you remember seeing it?"

"I don't remember seeing it. Why would I? It was always there. But-"

Mimi's observations about the ice pick were preempted by a particularly loud wail from the baby, who needed to be either changed, fed, or strangled.

Cora pushed her way up to the counter, where she opted for a Venti Frappuccino, which could have passed for an intercontinental ballistic missile. She plunged an extra-long straw through the caramel and whipped cream, took a preliminary sip, and sighed happily. God was in his heaven and all was right with the world.

It was even quiet. Cora glanced around, saw that Mimi and Darlene had left. Cora didn't set much stock in the ice pick story, but it was nice Mimi didn't blame her for the car. Not that Cora would have minded Mimi's animosity; still, she hated to be accused of things she had actually done. Probably a carryover from her days of being named corespondent.

Cora came out the front door of Starbucks, to discover Paul Fishman bearing down on her from across the parking lot. Cora was momentarily embarrassed to be caught holding the huge coffee treat. Then she remembered the man was responsible for turning her in to the cops. She could drink whatever she wanted in front of him. No matter how handsome he was.

"Miss Felton," he called.

Cora turned, fixed him with a gaze as frosty as her Frappuccino. "Yes?"

"I thought I saw you drive in. I was with a customer. I had to finish up with him."

"What do you want?"

"Oh. I'm sorry." Paul held up a film packet. "I found them."

Cora frowned. "Found what?"

"I felt so bad about it. You not getting your pictures, and all. On top of everything else. And it being my fault. So I looked around the booth for the extra set of prints, and darned if I didn't find them. They weren't where I thought they were because it was the day before."

Cora blinked as she tried to untangle that verbal construction.

"I often run 'em. Because most people order two sets of prints because the second set is cheaper. Much cheaper. You didn't, so I only put in one set. Sometimes I don't notice, and leave the extra set in the envelope. But when I do notice, I take 'em out. Otherwise, no one would order 'em. Because they'd know they'd get 'em anyway." He pressed the packet into her hands. "I gotta get back to the booth. Anyway, I'm not a bad guy, really, and I wanted you to have the prints."

Cora frowned as she watched him hurry away. On the one hand, it was a nice gesture. On the other hand, he had a lot to make up for.

Cora wanted to look at the pictures. It was hard, holding her purse and a Venti Frappuccino.

Cora found her car, always a challenge in the mall lot, threw her purse on the passenger seat, stuck the Frappuccino in the drink holder, and pulled open the packet.

They were the same prints he'd given the police, again in reverse order, starting with the motel sign.

Cora flipped through them, looking for a clue. Not that she expected one. Still, the guy had gone out of his way to give them back. Surely they must mean something.

Yeah, Cora thought. In a book. Where the author wouldn't be talking about them unless they meant something. In real life, they were just a bunch of pictures. Of the motel room and some chairs. Not to mention a rather nice shot of Sherry. Cora wondered if Sherry was out with Aaron. Had patched things up. If only.

Cora went through the motel room shots again.

There must be something. Was the gun in the picture? Surely the police would have mentioned that. Was the briefcase in the picture? Some article of Benny Southstreet's clothing. Some take-out food. Anything.

A dog that didn't bark.

Cora was losing it.

Cora tossed the pictures on the front seat, took a huge sip of Frappuccino. The mother of all ice-cream headaches ripped her brain apart. Oh, my God! What a wake-up call!

Cora took deep breaths, composing herself.

Ice cream?

Ice pick?

Yeah, sure.

Get a grip.

Cora leafed through the photos again. There must be something. But there wasn't. Nothing but a lousy roll of duplicate prints.

Cora shoved the photos back in the envelope, took a cautious sip from her Frappuccino, and started the car.

She frowned.

Someone had stuck a flyer on her windshield. Cora hated that. The practice, common enough in New York City, hardly ever happened here. It was almost fitting that it should on this day of all days.

Cora opened the door, got out, reached over, and pulled the flyer from under the windshield wiper blade.

Cora looked at the flyer. Not that she cared what it was, but she always made it a point not to patronize the businesses that littered the parking lot with advertising. She hoped it wasn't a store she liked.

It wasn't.

It was a crossword puzzle.

ACROSS.

* 1 Numbered items in a user's * guide * 6 It covers the field * 10 Laughingstock * 14 Poisonous * 15 Sorry sort * 16 "Heads___, tails..."

* 17 In abeyance * 18 "Bus Stop" dramatist * 19 Hawk * 20 Start of a message * 23 Storable sleeper * 24 BPOE member * 25 Subj. at Juilliard * 26 Worker with flowers * 29 Message part 2 * 33 Mazda roadster * 34 Taoism founder * 35 Browning's "Rabbi Ben ___"

* 38 TV show with skits * 40 "And... ?"

* 41 Propeller base?

* 44 Comb the "wrong" way * 47 Message part 3 * 50 180 from NNW * 51 ___ Lingus, Irish airline * 52 Dundee denial * 53 Civil War side: Abbr.

* 56 End of message * 59 Overfill the bill * 62 Scouting outing * 63 "Rocky" actress Shire * 64 Red ink * 65 ___-Day vitamins * 66 Vote in * 67 Do as you're told * 68 Just so * 69 Watch again DOWN.

* 1 One who plays hurt * 2 Scout master?

* 3 Lives * 4 Type size * 5 Whence "Beware the Ides of * March"

* 6 Tchotchkes and knickknacks * 7 Rhody, of song * 8 Ruling body * 9 "The Godfather: Part II" to * "The Godfather"

* 10 Jazzman's jargon * 11 Have debts * 12 All in the family * 13 Conclusion * 21 Edison's middle name * 22 Annapolis initials * 26 This and that?

* 27 Other than that * 28 First lady's home * 30 Muscat-eer?

* 31 Language including Zulu * 32 Clan symbol * 35 Drops in the ocean?

* 36 Olympian ruler * 37 Award stars to * 39 Unmarbled cut, say * 42 "___ first you don't..."

* 43 Optical range * 45 Without delay, initially * 46 Helter-___ * 48 "Twelfth Night" duke * 49 Places for professeurs * 54 Salami unit * 55 "It's ___!" ("I'll be there!") * 56 Half a spider's description * 57 Furniture brand * 58 Lock in the store?

* 59 Day-__ paint * 60 Tennis shot * 61 "___ it or lose it"

Chapter 48.

SHERRY AND AARON were at the movies. It was Aaron's idea, to which Sherry had readily agreed. They couldn't argue in the movies. They couldn't snipe in the movies. They couldn't air petty jealousies about ex-husbands and ex-girlfriends. They couldn't have misunderstandings in the movies. By and large, the movies were a hell of a safe place to be, a place to while away two hours in companionable silence. It occurred to Sherry if she and Aaron would just spend all their time in the movies, they'd get along great.

Someone slipped into the seat next to them. Sherry bristled. It was a big theater, it was only half full, and there were a lot of empty seats a person could have chosen without intruding on a young couple obviously on a date.

Sherry felt a tug on her shoulder. That was the last straw. It was bad enough to come barging in late, but if the person wanted a plot summary, it was beyond all bounds. She and Aaron would have to move.

Sherry looked over, to find Cora sitting next to her.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Come on," Cora said, gesturing for Sherry to follow.

"Are you nuts? I'm on a date."

"What's going on?" Aaron demanded.

"Shhh!" someone hissed from behind.

"You stay. She'll be right back."

Cora grabbed Sherry's arm, dragged her out the door.

"Where are we going?" Sherry protested.

"To the bathroom."

"I don't have to go to the bathroom."

"Yes, you do." Cora dragged Sherry down the hall.