CHAPTER 9

“NO, NO, NO,” Belle nearly shouted into the telephone, her excitement escalating in response to Rosco’s obvious lack of enthusiasm. “MAIL, mail, M-A-I-L, not M-A-L-E. Not a black male, but blackmail. I think Briephs was being blackmailed. My guess is that’s what he was trying to tell us.”

“I have the name of a good psychiatrist, Belle. She works for the police department.”

“So …?”

“I think you should be seeing her.”

“I’m serious, Rosco. I think Briephs knew he was in danger. And this puzzle was his life insurance. First of all, guess what 35-Across is?”

“Belle, I appreciate your enthusiasm here, but—”

“Just guess.”

Rosco let out an elongated sigh, though in reality her excitement was catching. Besides, he liked the sound of her voice. “Okay, I give up—what’s 35-Across?”

“THOMPSON BRIEPHS.”

“And …?”

“Well, it’s unheard of. You don’t insert your own name in a puzzle. Plus, it’s intriguing that his name just happens to have fifteen letters, don’t you think? It fits quite neatly.”

Rosco opened his mouth, but never had an chance to speak. Belle was on a roll.

“Wait. There’s more. 52-Across … I couldn’t get it at first, but it turned out to be AFTERNOON DEATHS. A wordplay on Hemingway. How about that? Hold on, don’t say anything. Listen to these words: BRIBE, PAYS and TRAP … Another thing, as I mentioned, there are form problems with this puzzle. Briephs left single letters hanging. He’d never do that … Never! No one would. Not even a rank novice. But when you add the dangling letters to the fact that he was strangled with HOSE, the picture becomes frighteningly clear, doesn’t it? Well …? What do you think? You’re not saying anything.”

“You told me not to.”

“I can’t believe you’re not accepting this supposition as fact. We’re definitely dealing with a message from Briephs.”

“Come on, Belle, how could anyone predict they were going to be strangled with a nylon stocking?”

“If it had been a sex game, why not? Why wouldn’t Briephs have surmised how his blackmailer would kill him? They’d probably played their bizarre little roles many times before.”

“Previous experience tells me that most men don’t have sex with people who are blackmailing them. Besides, there’s absolutely nothing that points to Briephs being blackmailed … No, my guess is, the folks at the Herald have just come up with some form of testimonial for Mr. Thompson C. Briephs and they weren’t clever enough to get the form correct.”

“Well, there’s one way to find out if I’m right about all this.”

“How’s that?”

“We’ll go over to the Herald and ask the editorial staff who created today’s puzzle.”

“Well, believe it or not, except for the we part, that’s exactly what I have planned for this afternoon—a trip to the Herald.”

“I’ll come with you.”

Rosco said, “I don’t think so,” in a tone that illustrated he could be a force to be reckoned with. “Listen, from where I stand, this is a criminal investigation, it’s not a word game. I’ll handle this on my own.”

“I wish I could see your face right now. I’ll bet you look incredibly hard-boiled.”

“You don’t know.”

Belle resisted the temptation to laugh. “JaneAlice Miller,” she said quickly instead.

“What?”

“That’s who you want to talk to at the Herald, JaneAlice Miller. She was Briephs’ secretary. My guess is she knows more about Tommy than his own mother.”

Remembering his fumbling conversation with the re-doubtable Sara, Rosco laughed. “I don’t imagine Mrs. Briephs would like to hear you say that … especially about a secretary.”

“JaneAlice Miller,” Belle insisted. “I met her a few times at Press Club luncheons. She trailed Briephs as if he were the Lord Almighty. Start with her.”

“If I have time.”

“Ask her who created today’s puzzle. She’ll know, if anyone does.”

“If I run into her.”

“I could phone her for you … Professional courtesy, that type of thing … sympathize about Thompson’s untimely demise, and then worm the puzzle information out of her.”

“Belle, drop it, okay? I’ll keep you posted.”