Aaron scribbled furiously on his pad. "Okay, I'm with you so far. But how'd you figure all this out?"

Cora gestured to her niece. "It helped enormously when Sherry solved the mystery of the chairs. Veronica Austin was Wilbur's childhood sweetheart. He had a tremendous crush on her. Being socially gauche, he gave her chairs."

"That's a kind of strange present," Aaron said.

"Wilbur? Strange? Surely you jest. Anyway, in spite of this awesome love token, she went off and married someone else. And proceeded to drop clean off the face of the earth. At least as far as Wilbur was concerned. Until a couple of years ago, when he had an epiphany."

"How come?"

"He saw the chairs in an auction catalogue. So he bought them, hoping they were hers. Only they weren't, they were her ex-husband's. Who got four of the chairs when they divorced. And the gentleman in question was no help in finding her. The chairs were being auctioned off as part of his estate."

"He died?"

"Yeah. Like an A. A. Fair title: Dead Men Can't Sell Chairs. Anyway, Wilbur tried to find her, but he had no luck. So he hid the chairs, and reported them stolen. Hoping the police would look for his, and find hers."

"That's a stupid idea."

"What's your point?"

"Why in the world would someone do that?"

"Men are not entirely rational where women are involved."

"No kidding," Sherry said.

"Guys'll do anything not to let on they care. Remember that West Wing episode where Josh has the hots for Mary-Louise Parker, so he's trying to invent some business excuse to call her? I think he finally came up with the funding for some project she was advocating that was going to be half a million short."

"That's really stupid."

"I rest my case. Anyway, Wilbur couldn't find Veronica by himself, but he had infinite faith in the police. If only they'd get off their duffs and do something. Which he wasn't shy about pointing out.

"And it finally worked. I don't know if that makes it any less stupid. Ironically, it took me finding the chairs that weren't really stolen to do it. I put Little Miss Internet on the case, and she was able to do what Wilbur couldn't."

"How did you do it?" Aaron asked Sherry.

"I made a few phone calls. Not to pooh-pooh my own abilities, but I probably got further sounding like a girl than a dirty old man. People were glad to help me."

"Sherry, sweetheart. Best not to reveal all your feminine wiles until after the wedding." Cora smiled. "Anyhow, getting all that out of the way helped. Once you realize Mr. Wilbur's a big red herring, the rest falls into place."

"I don't see how. You didn't have much to go on."

"Oh, I had a lot of clues. Mimi Dillinger told me about the missing ice pick. That started me thinking in the right direction. Mimi didn't report it at the time of the theft. She didn't even notice it was missing until after the murder. The ice pick was missing because Chuck brought it for Paul to use. Paul didn't have one-what guy who lives alone in a one-room apartment has an ice pick? He couldn't go out and buy one, because you don't want to be seen purchasing the murder weapon on the day of the crime. So he asked Chuck to bring him one. Chuck may not have known what Paul had in mind, but he sure as hell's an accomplice."

"That stuff you asked Paul to begin with-about seeing the motel on TV and bringing the police your photographs-that was just to lull him into a false sense of security?"

"No. That was to put him on edge. It scared the hell out of him when I walked into the Photomat with that roll of film. He's got Benny Southstreet bound and gagged in his apartment. I've got pictures of the scene of the crime. The film really shook him up. Which is why he made his big mistake."

"What big mistake?"

"Not barking in the nighttime."

"What?"

"I was looking for that type of Sherlock Holmes clue. Something that should be there, but wasn't. And there it was, right in front of my face." Cora gestured to her niece. "Sherry's bikini shot. The guy didn't even see it. This guy missed that? I don't think so. Not unless he was really stressed."

"When did she take that picture?" Aaron asked Sherry.

"Salesman's convention, Aaron," Sherry said sarcastically. "I was parading around in my bathing suit."

"Anyway, after I blunder into the frame-up, Paul can't believe he's lucky enough to have those photos. He wants to get 'em in the hands of the cops. He's watching the motel. As soon as the body is discovered, he phones in a tip to Channel 8."

Aaron snapped his fingers. "So Rick Reed will show up so Fishman can claim he saw the motel on TV."

"Exactly. As soon as they start broadcasting he drives up and turns over the photos. So the cops will get a line on me right away. And be sure to match my fingerprints with the gun."

"I'll be damned."

"Bad luck for Paul Fishman, I'm no patsy. Next thing he knows, I come walking into his Photomat demanding my pictures. He is not pleased to see me. He's just framed me for murder, and here I am asking him for the evidence. So, while I was there, he stole my gun."

"What!" Aaron exclaimed.

"Clearly he is not a nice man."

"How did he steal your gun? How did he even know you had a gun?"

"I may have flashed it just for the effect...."

"Cora."

"Well, he gave my pictures to the cops. Anyway, he slipped the gun out of my purse while I was picking up my film receipt he conveniently knocked on the floor. I'm sure he didn't know what he was going to use it for at the time. But he wasn't happy at the way things were working out. He thinks he's framed me big-time for Benny Southstreet's murder, and I'm out walking around like nothing happened. So he tried to gild the lily with my gun."

"By shooting you with it?"

"By missing me with it. By making me think someone tried to shoot me with it, so that's what I'll claim. He probably intended to just throw the gun on the floor, but when I fell down and knocked myself out, he took the opportunity to plant it in my purse. Which was a risky thing to do. He's lucky Wilbur didn't catch him."

"How'd he know you'd be searching Wilbur's barn?"

"He sent me there. With the crossword puzzle about antiques. He's been waiting for me to show up. When I pull into the mall, he grabs a duplicate set of photos and follows me to see where I park. While I'm in Starbucks, he slaps the crossword puzzle on my windshield, then waits in the distance until he sees me come out. Then he walks across the parking lot from the direction of his booth."

"Where'd he get the puzzle?"

"Same place he got the one he planted by the body. From Benny Southstreet's briefcase. He went through it looking for the money Benny didn't steal. When he decided to frame me, he kept a few puzzles that might come in handy."

"Can you prove all this?"

"Practically none of it. I'm hoping Chuck Dillinger rolls over on him. Be a good move. Guy's got a wife and kid, not to mention a law degree. I'm sure the killing wasn't his idea. Even if he did supply the ice pick."

"Oh. Right. That was his."

"Paul didn't have to tell him what it was for. Chuck's not the moving factor. I bet a good attorney could cut a deal."

"Is Chuck representing himself?"

"Chuck's not a good attorney. Even if he was, you know the old saying: A lawyer who represents himself has a fool for a client. I steered Becky Baldwin in his direction."

"You didn't."

"She needs the work. And I gotta be a huge disappointment, not getting tried for murder, and all. Besides, it's a good time for her to keep busy."

"What do you mean?"

"Take her mind off the fact she's not getting married."

Aaron's laugh was forced.

"What about the money?" Sherry asked, changing the subject.

"Remember what I said in the beginning? About a marriage that went sour?"

"You mean... ?"

"Mimi stole the money. After the office was broken into. She took it to see what her husband would say. And it's the worst-case scenario. Because her husband says nothing. Absolutely nothing. The cops ask him what was taken, he tells them not a thing.

"That's bad enough, but it gets worse. I find the torn corner of a hundred-dollar bill under the blotter. Sam Brogan asks her husband about it, and Chuck claims he kept a few hundreds under the blotter for emergencies, and it must be from one of them. I mention this to Mimi, and it confirms her worst fears. Chuck said there were two bills? And they were real? And he spent them?

"Mimi's trying to work up the nerve to confront her husband when the roof falls in. Benny Southstreet's murdered. And the puzzle she gave her husband is tied in to the motive. And Benny's the odds-on favorite for the prowler who broke into her house.

"Mimi can't believe her husband's involved in Benny's murder, but she doesn't know what to think. When she finds her ice pick is missing, she's really confused. Why would anyone steal an ice pick?

"Mimi's freaking out. She's sitting on five grand of illicit money that her husband won't even acknowledge, but thinks the dead man stole. She tried to tell me about it, got cold feet. So I ran a bluff on her, and she caved right in. Once she confessed to taking the money, things fell into place."

"How'd you get a line on Paul Fishman?"

"I have Chief Harper to thank. The chief traced the phone call Chuck Dillinger made from the service station pay phone to Fishman's apartment."

"How did you know about that?"

"Dennis, playing detective. He followed Chuck to the gas station, told me about the call. Actually, the jerk wanted to tell Sherry, but I headed him off at the pass."

"You didn't mention that," Sherry said.

"It was on a need-to-know basis. Anyway, it was fine work on his part, and I made sure Chief Harper knew Dennis deserved the credit." Cora shrugged her shoulders. "Of course, that meant letting the chief know Dennis was violating his restraining order, but what can I say? It was a moral dilemma."

"Cora! You're a wicked woman."

"I prefer to think of myself as a wedding planner. Look how things worked out: I got that handsome Photomat guy arrested for homicide. That takes him out of the picture. I got Becky Baldwin busy defending his accomplice. And I got Dennis legally restrained. So you two can go ahead and get married."

"Sounds like the perfect wedding," Aaron observed.

"Trust me." Cora smiled. "It always is."

About the Author.

Nominated for the prestigious Edgar, Shamus, and Lefty awards, PARNELL HALL is the author of seven previous Puzzle Lady mysteries. He lives in New York City, where he is at work on his next Puzzle Lady mystery.

--THE END--.