The Puzzle Lady returns in the 18th installment of the popular mystery series. Cora couldn't be happier: Matt Greystone was coming to town! The rookie sensation had just signed a huge contract with the Yankees, coming to the team from Arizona, where he won 17 games as a starting pitcher for the Diamondbacks. But an arm injury requiring rehab had sidelined his meteoric rise, and this was her chance to meet him! A diehard Yankee fan, Cora was delighted when Matt invited her to a weekend pool party. On the plus side, she got to meet Derek Jeter. On the minus side, she has a puzzle of her own to solve when a couple of the guests get killed.
Release date:
January 17, 2017
Publisher:
St. Martin's Publishing Group
Print pages:
288
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Cora Felton could hardly contain herself. She beamed like the cat who swallowed the cream, batted her cornflower blue eyes. “Matt Greystone,” she purred.
Sherry Carter looked up from the stew she was stirring on the stove. “Who?”
Cora’s mouth fell open. “You don’t know who Matt Greystone is? You’re lucky I let you use my kitchen.”
Sherry smiled. “Oh, now it’s your kitchen?”
Cora’s kitchen was the one in the old part of the house, the prefab ranch house Cora and Sherry moved into when they first came to Bakerhaven. When Sherry got married, she and her husband added on an addition, a modern two-story affair, which of course had its own kitchen, but Sherry felt more comfortable cooking in Cora’s.
“Fine. It’s our kitchen, I’m glad you’re using it. I’ll try to make you feel welcome by eating some of your stew. Don’t you know who Matt Greystone is?”
“I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”
“Only the biggest story to come out of Yankee Stadium in the last twenty years.”
“Bigger than winning the World Series?”
That caught Cora up short. “What?”
“It seems to me the Yankees won the World Series a few times in the last twenty years. You mean bigger than that?”
Cora shook her head. “You’re not a Yankee fan. I can’t believe you’re not a Yankee fan.”
“We’re in Connecticut. A lot of people are Red Sox fans.”
“I wouldn’t say that too loud if I were you.”
“Why not?”
“Matt Greystone!”
“I see. And you were going to tell me who that is.”
“Come on, Sherry. This wasn’t just a sports story. The guy was on every talk show in America. He’s the player to be named later.”
“I thought you knew his name.”
“Don’t be a wiseass.”
Jennifer, swooping through the living room in pursuit of Buddy, Cora’s toy poodle, stopped and pointed. “Auntie Cora said ‘ass’!”
“That doesn’t mean you get to,” Sherry said. “What did I tell you?”
Jennifer made a face, shook her head, rolled her eyes. “Auntie Cora said the A-word.”
“That’s right. And who’s not going to say it in kindergarten?”
“Suzie Bromowitz?” Jennifer said brightly. She giggled, pursued the poodle out the door.
“She’s growing up entirely too fast,” Sherry said.
“I thought there was a playroom in the basement.”
“There is.”
“Doesn’t she like it?”
“She does.”
“How come she’s never down there?”
“The grown-ups are up here.” Sherry turned back to her stew. “You were saying something about Matt Greystone.”
“Yes, I was saying something about Matt Greystone. You really don’t know who he is? He’s the minor league pitcher the Diamondbacks threw in to complete a trade. Surprised everyone by going seventeen and seven with a three-point-two-one ERA. Yankees signed him to a seventy-five-million-dollar extension, and every sportswriter in the world said it was a steal.”
“I gather it wasn’t?”
“Good guess. Kid celebrated by driving his car into a large tree. Broke his arm in five places. Hasn’t thrown a ball all year and probably never will.”
“And he’s here?”
“He’s coming.”
“What makes you think so?”
“I don’t think. I know.”
“How do you know?”
“I have it on good authority.”
“What good authority?”
“Judy Douglas Knauer. She’s been showing him houses.”
“Then why doesn’t everybody know?”
“She’s not supposed to talk about it. It’s very hush-hush.”
“Then how do you know?”
“She told me!” Cora shrugged. “Hey, it’s not like I’m going to tell anyone.”
“You told me.”
“You’re family.” Cora shook her head. “I can’t believe my niece doesn’t know anything about baseball.”
“I know who led the National League in home runs in nineteen thirty-two.”
“Who?”
“Mel Ott.”
“How the hell do you know that?”
“Ott is a very useful crossword puzzle word. That’s just one of many ways to clue it. As the Puzzle Lady, you should know that.”
Cora Felton was the Puzzle Lady in name only. Her face graced a nationally syndicated crossword puzzle column, and she appeared regularly on network TV hawking breakfast cereal to schoolchildren, but if the truth be told, Cora couldn’t do a crossword puzzle if her life depended on it. The truth wasn’t told, of course, because it would have meant the end of her career. Sherry Carter was the true Puzzle Lady, and constructed all the crosswords for the column. They put Cora’s name on it because Sherry was hiding from an abusive ex-husband. The husband was long gone, he and Sherry were both remarried. The pretense remained because the TV ads were lucrative and the public wouldn’t like to find out they’d been duped.
“How can you know that and not know who Matt Greystone is?”
“I know who Matt Greystone is.”
“What!” Cora cried indignantly.
Jennifer, swooping through in pursuit of Buddy, stopped to watch.
Sherry smiled. “Cora, I’m married to a newsman. You think I don’t know who Matt Greystone is? Besides, I have to keep track of all celebrities in case I want to clue a name that way. His ERA was three-point-two-seven, by the way.”
Cora let out an exasperated exclamation.
Jennifer pointed. “Auntie Cora said the S-word!”
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