"Don't thank me. Thank Philip T Crickstein. Bookkeeper for the Daniel Farnsworth Cane Company from 1935 to 1962. Mr. Crickstein kept such meticulous records that it is possible to trace purchases made over fifty years ago."

"You're way too pleased with yourself. What did you find?"

"I found the record of Wilbur purchasing the chairs."

"He didn't buy them from the manufacturer. He bought them at auction."

"When?"

"Two years ago."

Sherry smiled, shook her head. "Not quite. He bought them from the Daniel Farnsworth Cane Company on June 6, 1952."

"What!?"

"That's right. And he didn't buy four chairs. He bought eight."

"Eight?"

"Yeah. And that's not the best part. He didn't have them shipped to himself. He had them shipped to a private home in Mount Vernon, New York."

"Please tell me you traced the address."

"I did, but that's where the trail gets cold. The records indicate a family named Austin lived there in the early '50s. Where they went after that is anybody's guess."

"Find them."

"That may take a while."

"I haven't got a while." Cora pointed to the computer screen. "Go on-line and find them. I don't care if you Google 'em or use MapQuest, or a computer dating service, just find them, for Christ's sake."

"I'll give it my best shot."

"Please do." Cora sighed grimly. "I gotta solve this damn case before I get framed for anything else."

Chapter 59.

"TELL ME ABOUT the money."

Mimi Dillinger was blocking the doorway, so Cora couldn't get in. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes you do," Cora assured her. "The first time I mentioned it you acted like every small-time punk who ever got picked up for questioning. Right down to the shifty eyes."

Darlene was crying. Mimi glanced over her shoulder. "This isn't a good time."

"It's the best time you got. It may be the last time you've got. If I were you, I'd take advantage of it."

"The baby's upset."

"So, what else is new? I don't care if you change it, nurse it, or spank it. Just so long as you talk."

"Can't you leave me alone?"

"Not anymore. I got shot at last night."

Mimi was horrified. "What!?"

"Yeah. As if I didn't have enough problems. And that's just part of it. Well, I'm tired of being a punching bag. I'm hitting back, and I'm hitting hard. And if you stand in my way, I'm hitting you."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. And you want to tell me. I know you do. You told me about the ice pick. That was kind of a test run. If that had gone well, you might have brought up the cash."

"What cash?"

"Don't be dumb. The money under the blotter. The hundred-dollar bills. That might have been two, or might have been more. That Benny Southstreet might have stolen, or your husband might have spent. That might be real, or might not, but you think the police ought to test. That cash."

"Oh."

"Good answer. Not enlightening, but beats a denial. Come on, help me out here. I need to know if I got shot at for finding that piece of hundred-dollar bill under your blotter."

Mimi's eyes were wide. "You found that?"

"Let's not get sidetracked. I want answers, and I want 'em now. After tonight, all bets are off."

"Why? What's happening tonight?"

"I'm wrapping up the case."

It was a stone-cold bluff. Cora would have put the odds of her cracking the case as a slightly longer shot than her winning the Kentucky Derby.

Mimi bit her lip.

Cora whipped out a paper, waved it in Mimi's face. "I got the goods. It's all going down. The only question now is who's going down with it. I'm hoping it's not you."

"What's that?"

Cora glanced at the paper. It was an old cable TV bill from her Manhattan apartment. She quickly shoved it back in her purse. "Last chance. In or out. What's it gonna be?"

The kid was shrieking a blue streak, but Mimi didn't seem to notice. Her voice trembled. "What do you want?"

Cora's voice was hard as nails. "Tell me about the money."

Chapter 60.

RICK REED COULDN'T have been prouder. "This is Rick Reed, Channel 8 News, bringing you an exclusive interview with Cora Felton, the world-famous Puzzle Lady, who has been arrested and charged with murder in the shooting death of Benny Southstreet. Miss Felton, why are you making a statement at this time?"

Cora, all decked out in her favorite Miss Marple wear, beamed at the camera. "Because the public has a right to know, and I want to tell them."

"And you're telling them exclusively on Channel 8 News."

"No, I'm telling them live, in person, at eight o'clock tonight at the Bakerhaven town hall."

Rick Reed looked crestfallen. "You're not telling us now?"

"No, I'm making my announcement tonight. I'd be delighted to have you there, just as I'd be delighted to have all of Bakerhaven."

"You're going to address the town meeting?"

"That's right."

"Are you going to tell us who murdered Benny Southstreet?"

"I don't know who murdered Benny Southstreet. I'm hoping someone will tell me."

"You think the killer will be there?"

"I hope not."

Rick Reed frowned. "Why?"

"Because everybody else will." Cora smiled. "And then I'll know who the killer is. The killer will be the person who doesn't have the guts to show up."

"You think the killer will be afraid to come to the meeting?"

"Oh, yes. If he does, I'll expose him. Or her. But if he doesn't, I won't have to, because we'll all know who he is. The spineless wimp who didn't dare to come."

"And there you have it," Rick Reed concluded. "An open challenge to the killer, to show up at the town hall tonight at eight o'clock, to meet the Puzzle Lady, face-to-face. We'll be there, live, to see if the killer shows up, or wimps out. This is Rick Reed, Channel 8 News."

Cora smiled. "I know who you are, Rick."

"I was doing the wrap-up."

"That's fine, but I'm not done."

"No?"

"Wouldn't you like a little preview?"

"And how!" Rick preened for the camera. "And now, with an exclusive preview of tonight's town meeting, here is the Puzzle Lady, Cora Felton. What are you going to be talking about tonight, Miss Felton?"

"The autopsy report."

"What about the autopsy report?"

"The doctor only found one bullet. Which was a big break for the killer. There were two bullets. The doc only found one."

Rick Reed looked incredulous. "Wait a minute. You're saying there were two bullets?"

Cora smiled. "Can't put anything past you, Rick. Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying."

"You mean the autopsy report was wrong?"

"How many bullets were there in the autopsy report?"

"One."

"You do the math."

"And there you have it," Rick concluded. "A shocking accusation from the defendant, challenging the findings of the medical examiner. This is Rick Reed, Channel 8 News." He shot a glance at Cora Felton, mouthed, "Are you done?"

Cora smiled sardonically. "Am I ever."

Chapter 61.

BARNEY NATHAN WAS right up front. Cora wasn't surprised. She'd been ducking the doctor's phone calls ever since the broadcast. Her answering machine was nearly fried from the volume and the language. She'd also refused to talk to him at the town hall. Through intermediary Iris Cooper, Barney had been promised he'd have his say as long as he held his tongue until called on, a condition to which he had agreed with great gnashing of teeth. Now the good doctor sat red-faced on the edge of his seat, ready to leap up at any minute.

Iris Cooper side-spied at him over the lectern. "Think he'll keep quiet?"

"Or explode," Cora whispered back. "I would say it's a fifty-fifty bet."

Rick Reed pushed his way through the crowd.

"Okay, we got monitors in the back to carry the live feed. We're setting up some more outside."

"Outside?"

Rick grinned. "Yeah. Our little interview really packed 'em in. We've got almost as many people out there as in here."

"Just so long as the principals are in here," Cora said.