Free Sinister Sudoku by Kaye Morgan Page A

so happy about that.”
    “They never spoke to him again, even when he turned up with lots of money in his pockets.” Mrs. H.’s eyes began to tear up again. “No one was supposed to talk about him. When I got married, my husband Albert—well, he was a good man, but he was glad when his company transferred him down this way. No one knew the Dalens and what he used to call my ‘scapegrace brother.’ If I got the occasional letter from Chris, I always had to hide it. It would make Albert anxious—and angry.”
    She gave Liza a wry smile. “I thought Albert would have a fit when Chris got caught after this big job and wound up in Seacoast Correctional. Of course, he forbade me to go there.” Mrs. H. shrugged. “But after he passed away, I would go and see Chris.”
    “It must have been very difficult for you,” Liza said. “Like leading a double life.”
    “Not really,” Mrs. H. admitted. “For a long time, it looked as if he’d never get out. Whenever Chris went up for parole, that awful man from the insurance company was there, arguing against it. He never missed a chance, like it was his religion or something.” She looked bitter. “Usually, art thieves don’t serve their entire sentences. Deals get made. All it takes is giving up the stolen picture.”
    Now it was Liza’s turn for a wry smile. “But your brother had a stubborn streak. I saw that in our sudoku class.”
    “Chris said he’d rather die than let those phonies have it.” Mrs. Halvorsen’s lips trembled. “Now it looks as if that came true. It’s not as if he had all that long to go. When he got sick, the doctors at the prison did their best, but—”
    “He was going to stay with you,” Liza said gently, remembering Dalen’s words after he gave up his German shtick. “He told me at the inn. He was going to find a little job somewhere.”
    “I had told him about all the problems, how much it cost to fix the house. He said he’d do his best to help out.” The older woman looked at Liza, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “Where else was he going to go? We were the last of our generation.”
    It took Mrs. H. a moment, but she got control of herself. “That reminds me of something I have to do as next of kin. Doc Conyers called—he’s serving as the county coroner and needs a formal identification. That’s why I had gotten to work with the shovel. And then when you came home, I wanted to ask if you’d come with me. But I didn’t want to ask in front of Kevin.”
    “I understand,” Liza said, “and I’d be glad to help.” She gestured at her mismatched clothes. “Just let me change first.”
    Mrs. Halvorsen’s eyebrows rose. “I was going to ask about those, too, but I didn’t think I’d get an answer.”
    “It’s kind of complicated to explain,” Liza began, then shook her head. “So let’s go with the short answer—you’re right, you won’t get one.”
    Back in her own clothes again, Liza helped Mrs. H. free her ancient Oldsmobile from the snow. Then they headed off for downtown Maiden’s Bay. The parking situation looked pretty iffy, but they lucked out, finding a recently vacated spot not too far from City Hall.
    The morgue was in the basement, in the opposite side of the building from the sheriff’s department holding cells. Doc Conyers met them at the entrance. He was the town’s general practitioner as well as the local coroner, an oversized sort of man with oversized facial features. As a kid, Liza had thought of him as very wise and very kind. As a grown-up, she suspected that Conyers would be a very difficult man to play poker against. Even so, she couldn’t repress the feeling of trust that sprang up when she saw him.
    “Elise, I’m sorry I have to ask this of you,” Doc Conyers said. “And, Liza, thanks so much for coming along.”
    “Does this have to be done by the next of kin?” Liza found herself asking. “I mean, I taught a class at the prison. Chris Dalen was one of my students.