Free The Sudoku Puzzle Murders by Parnell Hall Page A

drunk?”
    “He staggered once. Righted himself, kept going down the street.”
    “So you kept watching him?”
    “No, I went back to bed.”
    “With a drunk in the street?”
    “He wasn’t coming my way. Still, I made sure the door was locked.”

    “And the only thing you remember about him was he wasn’t Japanese?”
    “I didn’t say that. That’s not the only thing I remember.”
    “Oh?”
    “He was well-dressed for a drunk. Not like a town rowdy. He wasn’t wearing a coat, just a suit jacket.”
    “Anything else you can remember?”
    Mrs. Clemson thought a moment.
    “He had long hair.”

Chapter 18
    Brenda Wallenstein’s loft in Soho had been a graduation gift from her father. The spacious, open, floor-through had been the perfect thing for a young woman of artistic aspirations, who could afford not to work. Upon her marriage to Dennis Pride, a number of renovations had been rushed through. The bathtub in the kitchen, for instance, such a source of merriment in wilder days, proved inefficient for a young husband dressing for business. A bath with shower stall had been partitioned off. Brenda’s art studio, which had once encompassed the entire floor, was now confined to the front third of the loft, with the remainder divided into living, dining, and bedroom spaces. Bohemian touches still remained in such furnishings as the futon, the macramé wall hangings, the cinder-block bookcase, but the general effect was upscale.
    Cora Felton, who had been there once long ago to pick up Sherry Carter, was impressed. “My, Brenda, you’ve done marvels with the place.”
    Brenda eyed Cora suspiciously. “Why are you here?”

    “Not the most cordial of greetings, Brenda, considering we have mutual interests.”
    “Such as?”
    “Keeping your husband away from my niece.”
    Brenda put her hands on her hips defiantly. Her curves bounced loosely beneath a painter’s smock. Brenda could have passed for a Rubens model. Zaftig, or what the college boys called pleasingly plump. There was a smudge of oil paint on her left cheek. Some garish shade of orange. Cora shuddered to think what the woman was painting.
    “What has Dennis done now?” Brenda demanded.
    “Nothing.”
    “That’s right, nothing. Because, if he had, I would have heard. From his attorney, Becky Baldwin, who is not apt to let anything be put over on her.”
    Cora shook her head. “You’re pretty naive, aren’t you?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “My niece is going to marry Aaron Grant. Becky used to be Aaron’s girlfriend. If Becky still has feelings for him, she would have a vested interest in seeing the marriage didn’t take place. The best way to sabotage the relationship would be to turn a blind eye to Dennis.”
    “Are you saying she’s doing that?”
    “Not at all. But it’s the sort of thing a scheming, unscrupulous woman would be apt to think of.” Cora pursed her lips. “I don’t know why I thought of it.”
    “Could it be because you’ve busted up more marriages than Angelina Jolie, Cora?”
    “Give me a break. She only broke up one. Granted she gets more ink, but, trust me, I’m way ahead.”
    “Come on, Cora. This isn’t like you. Has Dennis done something or not?”
    “I don’t know. But he’s got long hair.”

    “What?”
    “He’s grown his hair, hasn’t he? He combs it back, he plasters it down. He tucks it under his collar. But all the same, it’s really long. If he were drunk, it would flop around. He’d look like he did in his Tune Freaks days.”
    “You think he’s back with the band?”
    “Do you?”
    “What makes you think he’s back with the band?”
    “I don’t. I’m bluffing. I haven’t seen him. I was guessing about his hair being long. Evidently it was a good guess. If it was short, you’d have asked me to leave. So I can assume it isn’t. I’m not shocking you, I’m confirming your worst fears. What makes you think he’s back with the band? Aside from the fact he’s growing his