The Crossword Connection Read Online Free PDF Page A

you’re comfortable with.”
    â€œWhat about your ‘Third Tuesday Family Shoot-Outs’?”
    â€œAnd we don’t have to go to that every month, either. Besides, you said you enjoyed them.”
    Bewilderment creased Belle’s brow. “I did! I do! It’s just that—”
    â€œWe’re not going to be swallowed whole. We’ll have our own life, I promise.”
    Belle stared at the floor. “You wore socks!” she said with a sudden grin.
    â€œYeah … well … in honor of the big occasion.”
    â€œYou don’t have to change, Rosco. Just because we’re getting married.”
    â€œThere. See? You don’t change, I don’t change, and everyone lives happily ever after.”
    The clerk looked like a stick figure drawn in pencil; her skin, hair, even the clothes that covered her slight frame were colorless and flat. She even had a tentative way of moving, darting her fingers across the government forms, weighing official stamps and ballpoint pens as if she were about to drop them and run for the hills while her smile—such as it was—looked as if it had been added as an afterthought by someone unaware that lips should curve upward in pleasure. When the woman spoke, however, she was transformed. The clerk had the voice of a tiger. “Name?”
    â€œRosco Polycrates. I wrote it on line—” He tried to point through the glass separating license applicants from those in power.
    R-O-S-C-O-E she penned in dark block letters.
    â€œThere is no e on the end,” he said. “My folks—”
    The woman interrupted with an impatient sigh, then unsuccessfully attempted to erase the additional letter.
    â€œAge?”
    â€œThirty-eight. It says so right—”
    â€œSir. My job is to verify pertinent data. Yours is to supply it. Sex?”
    â€œWhy not? That’s one of the reasons we’re getting married, isn’t it?”
    If looks could kill, the clerk would have turned Rosco to dust.
    Rosco backtracked. “I guess we should list that as male.” Belle rolled her eyes and squeezed his hand. “I’m a private investigator,” he added as if the information would confirm the accuracy of his statements. “Formerly with the police department.”
    The clerk glared. “Your past employment is of no consequence here, sir. Nor does it impress me. Marital status?”
    â€œWhere did it say that? I guess I missed that question.… Why else would I be here?”
    The woman’s piercing stare only intensified.
    â€œDivorced, I guess. Married once before. It didn’t work out. I was too young.”
    The official pen paused above the smudged form. “Sir. Are you or are you not free to apply for a marriage license?”
    â€œFree … absolutely.”
    The clerk’s basilisk mask dispensed with Rosco. “You’ll have to redo this form, sir. The errors make it quite illegible. It will never reproduce clearly on our copy machine.” She turned her attention to Belle. “Name?” she demanded before proceeding through an identical litany.
    â€œThirty-three … female … also divorced.”
    â€œI know you!” the clerk suddenly announced. “You’re the crossword editor at the Evening Crier ! The one who solved those crimes!”
    â€œActually, we both—” Belle began, but Rosco tugged on her hand.
    â€œI read about you in Personality magazine. You’re prettier than your picture. I would have assumed Personality hired professional makeup artists and stylists.”
    â€œNo, they—” Belle started to respond, but the clerk interrupted with an abrupt “What’s it like to catch a murderer?”
    â€œI didn’t actually catch—”
    â€œSolved the crime ,” the clerk interjected. “That’s what the article said. It’s the same thing. I have a near-photographic memory. I can