"The will was read in the Kleinsmidt dining room. At a table with eight rattan chairs. Each heir was entitled to one, but they didn't take them, and the chairs were sold with the estate. It was twenty years later be- fore anyone suspected the diamonds were hidden in the chairs."

"You told Harvey that?"

"Well, I had to tell him something."

"Is there such a person as Kleinsmidt?"

"I'm sure there's one somewhere."

"I mean a Kleinsmidt heir."

Cora spread her arms. "I have no idea what any Kleinsmidt, living or dead, may have inherited."

"So, you not only got Harvey to hold a fraudulent auction on eBay, you did it by telling him an outrageous lie."

"Well, I couldn't tell him the truth. I don't know the truth. All I know is some guy wants his chairs back. The Kleinsmidt diamonds are as good a reason as any."

"The Kleinsmidt diamonds don't exist."

"Neither do the chairs."

Sherry took a breath. "Cora, I'm not going to argue with you. You know why? Because this has absolutely nothing to do with me. You and Harvey worked this out on your own. All the e-mail is going to go to Harvey. Harvey is the one who is going to go to jail. You're the one who is going to be accountable."

Cora patted her niece on the cheek. "You worry too much, Sherry. If I went to jail every time I told an outrageous lie I'd have never had time to get married."

"Most lies aren't illegal."

"Well, they should be. When I think of the whoppers Henry told me-" Cora broke off, looked at Sherry searchingly. "Is that your problem with Aaron? Has he been telling lies?"

"Of course not."

"Then what's the problem?"

"There's no problem."

"Right, right. You're just enjoying a young lady's prerogative of behaving like a peevish nitwit. Well, I'm certainly glad there's no problem, because I need a favor."

"Oh?"

"If you wouldn't mind."

"Does this have anything to do with chairs and eBay?"

"It's legal, it's simple, it's right up your alley."

"Why do I want to say no?"

"Your contrary nature?"

"No, your devious one. Whenever you get so conciliatory, Cora, I smell a rat."

"Bite me. All I want is a crossword puzzle."

"What?"

Cora explained about the young mother bashing in her husband's car.

"You want me to write a crossword puzzle to soften up her husband?"

"Well, I can't do it."

"That's not the point. The woman's been deceiving her husband and you want to help her out?"

"I want to help her confess."

"You want to make it all better? Why does this woman deserve your help? Why does she need your help? She's afraid to tell her husband she smacked up the car?"

"I don't think he'd beat her."

"That's not what I meant."

"Me either. It's just a young airhead mother, trying to make everything hunky-dory."

"I understand. What I don't understand is why you ever agreed to such a thing."

"She came off like she was having an affair.

Naturally, I wanted to help. The car bash was a kick in the teeth."

"You were going to help this woman have an affair?"

"Of course not. But I wanted to hear about it. My own sex life is virtually nonexistent."

"Is that why you're flirting with Harvey Beerbaum?"

"Will you knock it off about Harvey Beerbaum! I'm trying to solve a robbery. I also got finessed into writing a crossword puzzle. Which I'm not capable of doing. You wanna help me out? Or you want me to just fess up I'm not really the Puzzle Lady?"

"Not with the rent coming due."

"Okay, so whip me up a puzzle. It doesn't have to be great, it just has to get me off the hook with Reckless Stroller Mom."

"Have you learned your lesson? About promising things you can't deliver?"

"There's a straight line I'm not gonna touch. So, you'll do it. Great. If you can get it done before I go for coffee tomorrow, I won't have to start making up excuses."

The phone rang.

Sherry scooped it up. Her face hardened. "I told you not to call me." She hung up.

Cora raised her eyebrows. "Dennis?"

"Yeah."

"I see why you and Aaron are having troubles."

Chapter 7.

"IT'S NOT MY fault he calls me," Sherry protested.

Aaron Grant sipped his wine. "I'm not saying it's your fault. I'm just wondering what can be done."

"It's the same thing, Aaron," Sherry said irritably. "Wondering what can be done implies there's something I'm not doing."

"That's not what I mean."

"That's what the words mean. If you use the words, you're stuck with 'em."

"Words have different meanings."

"No kidding."

"I'm sorry I brought it up."

"You didn't bring it up."

"Yeah, I did. I asked you how you were."

"And I told you I'm cranky, and you wanted to know why. Fine. You brought it up, and now you're sorry. That makes both of us. Can we just have dinner?"

Sherry and Aaron were dining at the Country Kitchen. From the outside, Bakerhaven's homey, colonial restaurant looked like a large log cabin. The inside featured wood. It also featured a salad bar, which Sherry and Aaron had availed themselves of while they waited for their orders.

"Absolutely," Aaron said. "As long as we're both agreed that it's my fault."

"What's your fault?"

"Whatever we're talking about."

Sherry couldn't help smiling. "You're lucky you're cute. Otherwise, I wouldn't put up with you."

"I know. So, we're both agreed it's neither one of our faults if your ex-husband keeps calling you?"

"We're agreed it's your fault if you keep bringing it up."

"Fair enough."

Aaron took a bite of salad.

"That's a lot of blue cheese," Sherry said.

"I like blue cheese."

"You like high cholesterol?"

"Can't get enough."

"It'll kill you."

"No it won't. I really can't get enough. My cholesterol is so low, it doesn't register."

"That's impossible."

"No, hyperbole. Is it hyperbole, or just exaggeration?"

"That would depend on whether cholesterol too low to register is a possibility."

"Well, is it?"

"I have no idea."

"Anyway, it's low. Blue cheese can't hurt me."

"Did you make that up? Do you even know your cholesterol level?"

"Do you?"

"Know your cholesterol level?"

"No, yours."

"Yes, I do. And it's fine, because I don't eat that."

"Aren't you supposed to wait until we're married before you start to reform me?"

"What makes you think we're getting married?"

"Haven't I proposed yet?"

"Only half a dozen times. Have I ever said yes?"

"I don't remember."

"What a romantic. No, it's not the type of thing you'd be apt to remember, is it? Here's a hint. If I'd ever said yes, Aaron, maybe you'd have stopped asking."