A Puzzle in a Pear Tree by Parnell Hall Page B

the crossword puzzle world were legion. Cora wondered which cruciverbal expert she’d have to deal with now.
    Harvey marched her over to the punch bowl, where the beefy, bewhiskered gentleman was still taking Chief Harper to task. “Jonathon,” Harvey said, beaming all over his face. “Jonathon, here she is.”
    At the interruption, the man wheeled around, depositing the remains of his martini down the front of his shirt. His raised eyebrows were black and exceedingly bushy. His inquiring eyes were sky blue. His face, round with baby fat, still managed somehow to look sly. “Yes?” he said crisply.
    “This is Miss Cora Felton, the woman I told you about. Cora, may I present Jonathon Doddsworth III.” Harvey paused dramatically. Then, eyes twinkling, he announced, “Of Scotland Yard.”
    Cora’s mouth fell open. “Of—”
    “Scotland Yard. Yes,” Jonathon Doddsworth said. “Little out of my bailiwick, aren’t I? But my daughter’s here. I’m home for the holidays, so to speak. Not that this is my home anymore, not to put too fine a point on it.”
    “You and her mother are divorced?”
    “That’s the ticket. Ages now, more’s the pity. Yes, I’m back in Scotland Yard, and I daresay we have something in common.”
    “You mean crime?”
    “I do indeed.” Doddsworth smiled broadly. His teeth were somewhat crooked but went well with his face, gave him a warm, homey quality. His twinkling eyes made him seem friendly and attractive. “I understand you’ve had no little success in the matter.”
    Cora practically simpered. “You’re too kind. Oh, this is my niece, Sherry. Sherry Carter. Absolutely invaluable in my investigations. Helps me with the computer. This Internet stuff gives me fits.”
    “Beastly, isn’t it?” Doddsworth agreed, nodding hello to Sherry. He took a sip of his martini, was surprised to find his glass empty. “I must say, I find myself intrigued by your recent puzzles.”
    As usual, Cora tried to keep her face from registering alarm at the drop of the dreaded word
puzzle
. “Whatever do you mean?”
    “The acrostics, of course. I was just having a bit of a jaw with Chief Harper here. In a quandary, he is, over this business. And rightfully so. Seems a children’s lark, but who’s to say?”
    “Is that how you see it?” Cora asked.
    “I haven’t seen it at all.” Jonathon Doddsworth set his glass on the table somewhat ruefully. Cora wasn’t sure if his expression reflected the fact that it was empty or the fact that he hadn’t seen the puzzles. “I’m relying on Chief Harper’s recollections, which I must say seem a trifle foggy. I know the verse is not Dylan Thomas—still, one might expect it to rhyme.”
    “Oh, it does,” Cora said. “In a maddeningly schoolgirl way.”
    “You wouldn’t by any chance have brought it along?”
    “I’m afraid not.”
    Aaron Grant, who had returned from taking their coats in time to hear the last exchange, said, “But Sherry could recite it. She has a fantastic memory for words.”
    “Could you?” Doddsworth said. “I say, that would be positively smashing.”
    The look Sherry shot Aaron was not kind. Showing off her linguistic prowess was the last thing in the world she wanted to do. “It’s exactly as you say. They’re simple children’s poems. The first is:
    “Can you figure out the mischief
That I am going to do?
Are you apprehensive
That I might do it to you?
     
    “Girls who harbor grievances
And cannot make amends
Never get the things they want
And come to gruesome ends.
     
    “The second is:
    “Did you get my message?
It appears that you did not.
Or is it conceivable
That you simply forgot?
     
    “Well, here’s a brief reminder
To remember what I said.
I hope it doesn’t come too late
And you’re already dead!”
     
    “Fascinating,” Doddsworth murmured. “Clearly threats, but maddeningly nonspecific. I understand the titles narrowed the field. You couldn’t recite them as well, now, could you,