The KenKen Killings Part 2
"That's very considerate of you, since I tried to move out and you guilted me into staying."
"You got a letter," Sherry said, bluntly changing the subject.
"What do you mean?"
"The postman came, put a letter in the box. I came home, took a letter out of the box. Isn't that how it works?"
"Where is it?"
"Kitchen table."
"Why didn't you give it to me?"
"You didn't go in the kitchen."
Cora sighed, lifted the plate off her lap, put it on the coffee table.
"I'll get it," Aaron said.
He hopped up, went and fetched the letter.
"Well, what is it?"
"I don't know. Some law firm in Great Neck. Here."
Cora's eyes lit up. "Really?" She tore open the envelope, pulled out a check. "Hallelujah!" She pointed her finger at Sherry. "In your face, doubting Thomas! This will tide me over till my next book."
"What is it?" Aaron said.
"My inheritance. From the late, lamented Chester T. Markowitz. Your little wife here thought it was a scam."
"Is that a real check?" Sherry said skeptically.
"Of course it's a real check."
"From Chester T. Markowitz?"
"Don't be silly. Dead men don't send checks. It's from the law firm of Fleckstein and Stone, conservator for the estate of Chester T. Markowitz."
"Signed by the attorney?"
"Well, it's not signed by Chester."
"And it's made out to you?"
Cora blinked. "Yes, it's made out to me."
"You hesitated."
"No, I didn't."
Sherry smiled. "Cora, I've watched you interrogate suspects. You just exhibited all the cla.s.sic signs you look for. Didn't she, Aaron?"
Aaron looked at Sherry. At Cora. Back at Sherry.
Cora grinned. "Oh ho, you put him on the spot! He doesn't dare cross you in your condition-"
"In my condition?" Sherry caught herself. "Nice try. Don't change the subject. You hesitated when I asked if the check was made out to you. Why does that make you uneasy?"
"Boy, you'd have made a demon prosecutor. I'd watch out, Aaron. You're in as much trouble as if you'd married Becky Baldwin."
Even mention of the attractive attorney who was Aaron's ex-girlfriend couldn't sidetrack Sherry. If anything, it made her more suspicious. "What's wrong with the check?"
"There's nothing 'wrong' with it. It's made out to Cora Felton Markowitz."
"Oh, for goodness' sakes!"
"Well, why wouldn't it be, if I'm the widow? What's the difference?"
"You know the difference. You can sign a check made out to Cora Felton and you haven't committed a crime. You haven't obtained money under false pretenses, forged a doc.u.ment, and perpetrated a fraud on the court."
"Court? What court?"
"I don't know. I'm not a lawyer."
"Maybe you should have married Becky," Cora said. "Well, if you kids are gonna argue..."
"Sit down!" Sherry took a breath. "Look, Cora, you're a brilliant woman. At solving crimes you have no equal. If this check were made out to any other person whatsoever, you'd be the first to point out all the reasons they shouldn't sign it. But wave ten grand in your face-"
"Ten grand!" Aaron said.
Sherry threw up her hands. "Oh, for goodness' sakes. Yes, Aaron. Ten grand. This check is worth ten grand."
"Which is why I'm not leaping to embrace the suggestion that I treat it like sc.r.a.p paper," Cora said.
Aaron frowned. "Anything else on the check?"
"No. Just the notation."
"What notation?"
"Widow's inheritance."
"Oh?"
"Which doesn't mean anything. Anyone can write anything on a check. All I've gotta do is take it down to the bank and cash it."
"As the widow Markowitz."
"As Cora Felton. I'll deposit it to my account. The account of Cora Felton."
"And you'll sign it on the back?"
"Yes, I'll sign it on the back." Cora turned the check over, uttered a brief, terse comment that had little to do with banking.
"What's the matter?" Sherry said.
"It's nothing."
"And it didn't bother you. Yes, I noticed. Just what is this nothing that didn't bother you?"
"It's a lawyer's check. He typed a release."
"No kidding. What's it say?"
Cora took a breath. She read, " 'I, Cora Felton Markowitz, do hereby agree that the amount of this check, to wit ten thousand dollars, represents the entire amount of the inheritance specified and/or implied in the last will and testament of my husband, Chester T. Markowitz, and I hereby relinquish any and all claims on any and all moneys which might be discovered to be part of the estate of the said Chester T. Markowitz.' "
"Gee," Sherry said. "That's not a red flag."
"Oh, come on. What could possibly go wrong?"
CHAPTER.
5.
Chief Dale Harper parked the police car at the top of the driveway, got out, and surveyed the new addition. It was nearly finished. The backhoe was long gone, and the crew was down to a carpenter and a painter, mostly working on the trim.
Cora came walking up. "Like it?"
"That comply with local zoning ordinances?"
"Be a h.e.l.l of a time to find out it didn't."
"Are you allowed in?"
"Don't wanna upset the contractor. Until he's done, it's his house. If I poke my nose in, I'm delaying some painter or other and adding five hundred bucks to the job. It's the reason I never had a maid. I wouldn't be allowed in the house." Cora frowned. "As I recall, Henry hired one. Just before the divorce."
"Suppose you were allowed in the house. What would you find?"
"Aha!" Cora pointed to the second floor. "Bedroom, master bath. Two small bedrooms with bath."
"Each?"
"No. One for the two. A hardship, but you gotta make sacrifices."
"The master bedroom is yours?"
"Yeah, right. That was the original plan, but that was a month ago. Now I doubt if I'm allowed upstairs."
"Oh?"
"I think they're starting a family. Sherry says no, but that doesn't stop me from kidding her. Anyway, they're moving upstairs. I'm left with the house. Except for the office. And the kitchen. And the living room. I think I get to keep my bedroom, but I'm not sure. Actually, there's a perfectly nice living room over there. Along with what Sherry refers to as a 'modern kitchen.' Which I'm sure is also perfectly nice, but with the a.s.sessment of 'modern' hanging over its head, I doubt it will be used much."
"Are you allowed in the living room?"
"In theory. It would have been so much easier for them just to throw me out."
"There's a bas.e.m.e.nt?"
"There is indeed. After living on a slab all these years, it's a thing of beauty and a joy forever. Of course, it's a problem."
"Why?"
"Well, there's a furnace room and a laundry room and a half bath. And a storage closet and a freezer chest. Can't argue with that. The rest of the bas.e.m.e.nt's the bone of contention."
"How come?"
"I want a pool table." Cora frowned. "Don't look at me like that. As a girl, I was good. Used to hustle beers playing bar pool."
"Sherry said no?"
"Sherry said yes."
"What's the problem?"
"Sherry also said she's not knocked up."
"That's a nice way to put it."
"It is, isn't it? I was going to say a bun in the oven, but it seemed too wordy. Anyway, the pool room is now a game room."
"So, your idea of a game room..."
"Is pool, poker, and penny ante bridge. The three p's. Not tricycles and building blocks."
"Cora, even if that were true, it's years away. Kids are small. They don't get around much."
"I know."
"So what's the problem?"
Cora made a face. "They won't let me smoke."