Items related to You Have the Right to Remain Puzzled
When Benny Southstreet, a small-time hustler with a big-time gift for constructing crosswords, accuses Cora of stealing one of his creations, it’s clearly a case of mistaken identity...until Cora’s own attorney files a plagiarism suit against her. To add to the enigma, when Benny is found dead, the police charge Cora with his murder!
At the heart of the matter is the not-so-little white lie Cora has been living for years: assuming the grandmotherly public face of her publicity-shy niece Sherry, who designs crossword puzzles and publishes them under Cora’s name—aka the Puzzle Lady. It turns out that Sherry’s and Benny’s cruciverbalist paths had recently crossed, resulting in the current incriminating conundrum.
As if Sherry’s wedding engagement jitters and a nasty battle over missing antique chairs weren’t enough to deal with, now Cora has to solve the ultimate mystery: how to keep the secret of her identity without losing her life. Because not only does all evidence point to Cora, but someone seems to want her dead. It looks like a riddle with no answer. Luckily for Cora and Sherry, that’s their favorite kind!
At the heart of the matter is the not-so-little white lie Cora has been living for years: assuming the grandmotherly public face of her publicity-shy niece Sherry, who designs crossword puzzles and publishes them under Cora’s name—aka the Puzzle Lady. It turns out that Sherry’s and Benny’s cruciverbalist paths had recently crossed, resulting in the current incriminating conundrum.
As if Sherry’s wedding engagement jitters and a nasty battle over missing antique chairs weren’t enough to deal with, now Cora has to solve the ultimate mystery: how to keep the secret of her identity without losing her life. Because not only does all evidence point to Cora, but someone seems to want her dead. It looks like a riddle with no answer. Luckily for Cora and Sherry, that’s their favorite kind!
"synopsis" may belong to another edition of this title.
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 mystery.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.:
1
"The wedding's off!"
Sherry Carter punctuated the remark by slamming the door of the red Toyota in which she had just skidded to a stop at the top of the gravel driveway.
Cora Felton, relaxing in a lawn chair, looked up from her Agatha Christie novel and nodded sagely. "Good tactic. I called several of my weddings off before going through with them." She took a drag on her cigarette. Her brow furrowed, as if the nicotine had given her sudden powers of concentration. "At least two or three. Melvin, I called off more than once. I suppose that should have told me something."
Sherry was in no mood for her aunt's rambling reminiscences. "Cora, we're talking about me."
"Of course, dear. I heard you. You're not going to marry Aaron. I quite agree. Aaron's a worthless cad, and you're better off without him. Particularly after what he's done. What has he done, by the way?"
"Don't humor me. I hate it when you humor me."
"What can I do that you don't hate?"
"Oh, who gives a damn!"
Sherry stormed into the house.
Cora sighed, heaved herself out of the chair. It was late morning, and Cora was clad in her Wicked Witch of the West dress. Her favorite loose, comfortable, lounge-around-home smock, it bore cigarette burns, liquor stains from her less than sober past, plus the telltale signs of some none-too-accurately ingested, scrumptiously caloric treats, covering all the essential food groups, such as hot fudge, marshmallow, whipped cream, guacamole, onion dip, ice cream, butter, and maple syrup, in any and all combinations.
Sherry had given up trying to get her aunt to throw away the dress, but strongly cautioned her against wearing it in public, lest unflattering photos should wind up in the tabloid press. Cora had her reputation to uphold. Her benevolent, grandmotherly face graced a nationally syndicated crossword puzzle column. She also did TV ads as the Puzzle Lady, hawking breakfast cereal to schoolchildren. If any kids actually ate it, the joke was on them, since Cora couldn't do a crossword puzzle to save her life. Sherry constructed the puzzles. Cora was much happier poking her nose into mysteries. Real mysteries, involving real crimes. Cora was good at solving crimes.
Not matrimonial affairs.
Cora glanced around the yard, hollered, "Buddy!"
The toy poodle, snoozing in the shade of his favorite elm, stood up, shook himself awake, and trotted toward the house. Cora opened the door and Buddy bounded in.
Sherry wasn't in the living room or the kitchen. Cora pounded down the hall to the office, where her niece was on-line.
"EBay?" Cora asked.
Sherry didn't answer.
"When I break an engagement, I always buy something. To make myself feel better. The expense is directly proportional to the nearness of the wedding and the thickness of the skull of the unintended. Is that the right word? Unintended? Or is it disintended? Come on, you're good with words. Help me out."
"Cora. I'm not in the mood."
"I noticed." Cora brushed cigarette ash off the sleeve of her smock. "If you weren't so self-absorbed, you might ask why I'm not dressed at eleven in the morning. I haven't been having an easy time myself. If I were drinking, I'd be drunk." She frowned. "That sounds stupid, but you know what I mean."
"Cora, have you heard a word I said?"
"Yeah. You're not getting married, yada, yada, yada. You think you got troubles. I got this nut Benny Southstreet accusing me of swiping his puzzle. Which is pretty funny, since I wouldn't know how to steal his puzzle. Which means he's actually accusing you of stealing his puzzle. I would think you'd care."
"Damn it, Cora! I just broke up with Aaron!"
"Why? What did Aaron do?"
"You wouldn't understand."
"Right, right. Because I know nothing about men. And I've only been married I don't know how many times. I always think of Melvin as my fifth. But when you count the broken engagements . . . There's a fine line between the ones that were broken before they said I do or right after. Of course, legally–"
"Will you shut up!"
Sherry turned from the computer to face her aunt. Her eyes were filled with tears.
"Sherry, what happened?"
There came the sound of tires on gravel.
"If that's Aaron, I'm not here," Sherry said.
"Your car's here."
"It's your car."
"Weren't you just out in it?"
"I don't want to see him!"
"I got it, I got it."
Cora looked out the living room window.
Dennis Pride, Sherry's abusive ex-husband, was on his way up the walk.
Cora uttered a brief comment, indicating she was not thoroughly pleased with the young man's presence, then slammed out the door to intercept him.
Dennis's hair, though parted and greased back, was long. A little shampoo and he would fit right in with the members of his former rock group, Tune Freaks. Cora suspected Dennis of playing with them on the sly.
Cora blocked his path. "Sherry's not here."
"Her car's here."
"That's what I told her. She still insists she's not here. Probably because you're here. Why don't you leave? Then when I tell her you're not here, I'll be telling the truth."
Dennis scowled. "It isn't funny."
"No, it isn't. Your ex-wife is getting married. You're about the last person she needs to see right now."
"I have to talk to her."
"She doesn't have to talk to you. And she's got a restraining order to prove it. Get out of here, or I'll call the cops."
A VW Beetle drove up the driveway. A young woman got out. She was the type college boys would describe as comfortable or pleasingly plump.
Those qualities were not on exhibit now. Brenda was visibly upset. "Damn it, Dennis! I thought you'd learned your lesson."
Dennis wheeled away angrily and almost lost his balance. Cora wondered if he'd been drinking.
Brenda assumed he had. "Dennis, you're drunk. You must be to come here. She's your ex-wife, Dennis. Your first ex-wife. I'll be your second if you keep this up. Is that what you want, Dennis? Is that what you'd like? I don't want to keep you if you want to go. What do you want to do?"
"Just shut up, will you!"
"Oh, nice! That's the way to talk to your wife!"
Sherry Carter stormed out the front door. "Great. The two of you together. Brenda, you're my best friend and I love you, but if you can't control your husband I'm going to lose it. Just because your marriage isn't working is no reason to ruin mine."
"Exactly," Dennis agreed.
"Not to you, damn it. My upcoming marriage. My pending marriage. My marriage that may not come off if you won't leave me alone."
"Then you do still have feelings for Dennis," Brenda charged.
Sherry took a deep breath. Her eyes blazed. "Yes, I have feelings for Dennis. And, believe me, they aren't love. I am so angry I am about to explode. I'm yelling at Cora. I'm yelling at Aaron. I'm yelling at you. I don't want to yell at you. I just want to be left alone."
A car rattled up the driveway.
"Oh, what is this–Times Square?" Sherry exclaimed.
A young woman in a beige business suit climbed out. Her blond hair was piled up on her head. Her earrings were simple gold studs. Her subtle makeup set off a fashion model face.
Becky Baldwin looked around at the gathering on the lawn. "Did I come at a bad time?"
Sherry, Brenda, and Dennis glared at her.
Only Cora Felton smiled. "Join the fun, Becky. We were just discussing the wedding plans. Or lack of them. I'm sure you'll get a kick out of it."
"Actually, I came to see you." Becky looked Cora up and down. "But if you're not well . . ."
"I'm just fine, thank you," Cora said. "What could you possibly want?"
"Whatever it is, could you take it somewhere else," Dennis snarled. "We're having a serious conversation."
"We're having nothing of the kind," Sherry said. "The sooner these people leave, the better. Stick around, Becky. I want to talk to you anyway."
"Oh? What about?"
"Here he comes now," Cora said, pointing to the Honda skidding up the driveway.
Aaron Grant vaulted out of the car, snagging the pocket of his sports jacket on the door. The young reporter didn't notice. He glared at Dennis, set his lips in a firm line.
Sherry Carter threw her hands up in the air.
Cora waved Aaron over. "Come on in, Aaron. It's a fraternity stunt. We're trying to see how many cars we can fit in the driveway."
Aaron was in no mood to joke. Aside from Cora, that made it unanimous.
"Sherry," Aaron said.
Sherry turned her back.
"She doesn't want to talk to you," Dennis said.
Aaron wheeled, pointed his finger. "You keep out of this!"
"Says who?" Dennis challenged.
Brenda grabbed his arm. "Dennis!"
He brushed her off like a fly. "Wanna make something out of it, paperboy?"
"Sherry's a big girl. If she wants you here, fine. If she doesn't, I suggest you leave."
"Oh, now you're telling me what Sherry wants?"
"No, she can speak for herself. Sherry, you want this 'gentleman' here?"
"That's right," Sherry said. "Throw it all on me."
"Well, if you won't say what you want . . ."
...
"The wedding's off!"
Sherry Carter punctuated the remark by slamming the door of the red Toyota in which she had just skidded to a stop at the top of the gravel driveway.
Cora Felton, relaxing in a lawn chair, looked up from her Agatha Christie novel and nodded sagely. "Good tactic. I called several of my weddings off before going through with them." She took a drag on her cigarette. Her brow furrowed, as if the nicotine had given her sudden powers of concentration. "At least two or three. Melvin, I called off more than once. I suppose that should have told me something."
Sherry was in no mood for her aunt's rambling reminiscences. "Cora, we're talking about me."
"Of course, dear. I heard you. You're not going to marry Aaron. I quite agree. Aaron's a worthless cad, and you're better off without him. Particularly after what he's done. What has he done, by the way?"
"Don't humor me. I hate it when you humor me."
"What can I do that you don't hate?"
"Oh, who gives a damn!"
Sherry stormed into the house.
Cora sighed, heaved herself out of the chair. It was late morning, and Cora was clad in her Wicked Witch of the West dress. Her favorite loose, comfortable, lounge-around-home smock, it bore cigarette burns, liquor stains from her less than sober past, plus the telltale signs of some none-too-accurately ingested, scrumptiously caloric treats, covering all the essential food groups, such as hot fudge, marshmallow, whipped cream, guacamole, onion dip, ice cream, butter, and maple syrup, in any and all combinations.
Sherry had given up trying to get her aunt to throw away the dress, but strongly cautioned her against wearing it in public, lest unflattering photos should wind up in the tabloid press. Cora had her reputation to uphold. Her benevolent, grandmotherly face graced a nationally syndicated crossword puzzle column. She also did TV ads as the Puzzle Lady, hawking breakfast cereal to schoolchildren. If any kids actually ate it, the joke was on them, since Cora couldn't do a crossword puzzle to save her life. Sherry constructed the puzzles. Cora was much happier poking her nose into mysteries. Real mysteries, involving real crimes. Cora was good at solving crimes.
Not matrimonial affairs.
Cora glanced around the yard, hollered, "Buddy!"
The toy poodle, snoozing in the shade of his favorite elm, stood up, shook himself awake, and trotted toward the house. Cora opened the door and Buddy bounded in.
Sherry wasn't in the living room or the kitchen. Cora pounded down the hall to the office, where her niece was on-line.
"EBay?" Cora asked.
Sherry didn't answer.
"When I break an engagement, I always buy something. To make myself feel better. The expense is directly proportional to the nearness of the wedding and the thickness of the skull of the unintended. Is that the right word? Unintended? Or is it disintended? Come on, you're good with words. Help me out."
"Cora. I'm not in the mood."
"I noticed." Cora brushed cigarette ash off the sleeve of her smock. "If you weren't so self-absorbed, you might ask why I'm not dressed at eleven in the morning. I haven't been having an easy time myself. If I were drinking, I'd be drunk." She frowned. "That sounds stupid, but you know what I mean."
"Cora, have you heard a word I said?"
"Yeah. You're not getting married, yada, yada, yada. You think you got troubles. I got this nut Benny Southstreet accusing me of swiping his puzzle. Which is pretty funny, since I wouldn't know how to steal his puzzle. Which means he's actually accusing you of stealing his puzzle. I would think you'd care."
"Damn it, Cora! I just broke up with Aaron!"
"Why? What did Aaron do?"
"You wouldn't understand."
"Right, right. Because I know nothing about men. And I've only been married I don't know how many times. I always think of Melvin as my fifth. But when you count the broken engagements . . . There's a fine line between the ones that were broken before they said I do or right after. Of course, legally–"
"Will you shut up!"
Sherry turned from the computer to face her aunt. Her eyes were filled with tears.
"Sherry, what happened?"
There came the sound of tires on gravel.
"If that's Aaron, I'm not here," Sherry said.
"Your car's here."
"It's your car."
"Weren't you just out in it?"
"I don't want to see him!"
"I got it, I got it."
Cora looked out the living room window.
Dennis Pride, Sherry's abusive ex-husband, was on his way up the walk.
Cora uttered a brief comment, indicating she was not thoroughly pleased with the young man's presence, then slammed out the door to intercept him.
Dennis's hair, though parted and greased back, was long. A little shampoo and he would fit right in with the members of his former rock group, Tune Freaks. Cora suspected Dennis of playing with them on the sly.
Cora blocked his path. "Sherry's not here."
"Her car's here."
"That's what I told her. She still insists she's not here. Probably because you're here. Why don't you leave? Then when I tell her you're not here, I'll be telling the truth."
Dennis scowled. "It isn't funny."
"No, it isn't. Your ex-wife is getting married. You're about the last person she needs to see right now."
"I have to talk to her."
"She doesn't have to talk to you. And she's got a restraining order to prove it. Get out of here, or I'll call the cops."
A VW Beetle drove up the driveway. A young woman got out. She was the type college boys would describe as comfortable or pleasingly plump.
Those qualities were not on exhibit now. Brenda was visibly upset. "Damn it, Dennis! I thought you'd learned your lesson."
Dennis wheeled away angrily and almost lost his balance. Cora wondered if he'd been drinking.
Brenda assumed he had. "Dennis, you're drunk. You must be to come here. She's your ex-wife, Dennis. Your first ex-wife. I'll be your second if you keep this up. Is that what you want, Dennis? Is that what you'd like? I don't want to keep you if you want to go. What do you want to do?"
"Just shut up, will you!"
"Oh, nice! That's the way to talk to your wife!"
Sherry Carter stormed out the front door. "Great. The two of you together. Brenda, you're my best friend and I love you, but if you can't control your husband I'm going to lose it. Just because your marriage isn't working is no reason to ruin mine."
"Exactly," Dennis agreed.
"Not to you, damn it. My upcoming marriage. My pending marriage. My marriage that may not come off if you won't leave me alone."
"Then you do still have feelings for Dennis," Brenda charged.
Sherry took a deep breath. Her eyes blazed. "Yes, I have feelings for Dennis. And, believe me, they aren't love. I am so angry I am about to explode. I'm yelling at Cora. I'm yelling at Aaron. I'm yelling at you. I don't want to yell at you. I just want to be left alone."
A car rattled up the driveway.
"Oh, what is this–Times Square?" Sherry exclaimed.
A young woman in a beige business suit climbed out. Her blond hair was piled up on her head. Her earrings were simple gold studs. Her subtle makeup set off a fashion model face.
Becky Baldwin looked around at the gathering on the lawn. "Did I come at a bad time?"
Sherry, Brenda, and Dennis glared at her.
Only Cora Felton smiled. "Join the fun, Becky. We were just discussing the wedding plans. Or lack of them. I'm sure you'll get a kick out of it."
"Actually, I came to see you." Becky looked Cora up and down. "But if you're not well . . ."
"I'm just fine, thank you," Cora said. "What could you possibly want?"
"Whatever it is, could you take it somewhere else," Dennis snarled. "We're having a serious conversation."
"We're having nothing of the kind," Sherry said. "The sooner these people leave, the better. Stick around, Becky. I want to talk to you anyway."
"Oh? What about?"
"Here he comes now," Cora said, pointing to the Honda skidding up the driveway.
Aaron Grant vaulted out of the car, snagging the pocket of his sports jacket on the door. The young reporter didn't notice. He glared at Dennis, set his lips in a firm line.
Sherry Carter threw her hands up in the air.
Cora waved Aaron over. "Come on in, Aaron. It's a fraternity stunt. We're trying to see how many cars we can fit in the driveway."
Aaron was in no mood to joke. Aside from Cora, that made it unanimous.
"Sherry," Aaron said.
Sherry turned her back.
"She doesn't want to talk to you," Dennis said.
Aaron wheeled, pointed his finger. "You keep out of this!"
"Says who?" Dennis challenged.
Brenda grabbed his arm. "Dennis!"
He brushed her off like a fly. "Wanna make something out of it, paperboy?"
"Sherry's a big girl. If she wants you here, fine. If she doesn't, I suggest you leave."
"Oh, now you're telling me what Sherry wants?"
"No, she can speak for herself. Sherry, you want this 'gentleman' here?"
"That's right," Sherry said. "Throw it all on me."
"Well, if you won't say what you want . . ."
...
"About this title" may belong to another edition of this title.
- PublisherBantam
- Publication date2006
- ISBN 10 0553804189
- ISBN 13 9780553804188
- BindingHardcover
- Number of pages320
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