The Crossword Connection Read Online Free PDF Page B

flights of stairs aren’t exercise; they’re hell.” He regretfully patted the cigarette packet again. “Hey, you two aren’t looking so hot. Don’t tell me your license was denied? There wasn’t a road test, was there?”
    Rosco answered, “A long story, Al. Something about ship coordinates.”
    Lever looked horrified. “You’re not going to postpone the wedding, are you?”
    â€œNot if we can help it,” Belle said as the three began descending the stairs. “We just need to talk to the captain.” Then she changed the subject; she’d become truly fond of the irascible Lever. “You’re not looking very chipper either, Al.”
    â€œA vagrant turned up dead this morning. Smashed skull. No cash. Dog food cans in his pockets. What’s the world coming to when people have to eat stuff like that?”
    Belle’s bright face darkened. “One of the residents of the Saint Augustine Mission?”
    â€œNo one seemed to be missing. But that doesn’t mean he never passed through there.”
    Belle’s expression remained troubled. She didn’t speak for a long minute, but Rosco knew her mind was whirling with possibilities. “And someone killed him? Why?”
    â€œNo telling. Fight over a bottle, robbery, bad debt. It might take a while, but we’ll figure it out.”
    â€œDid anyone know him?” Belle continued. “Was he from around here?”
    â€œCarlyle IDed the body twenty minutes ago. Local guy name of Carson.”
    â€œNot Freddie Carson?” Rosco asked.
    â€œThat’s right, Frederick Carson. You know him?”
    â€œSort of. He had cans of dog food on him?”
    â€œHey, Polly—crates, you better get over these wedding bell woes and concentrate. Yes, dog food.”
    â€œI used to see Freddie Carson around town,” Rosco said slowly. “I helped him out once or twice; bought him a cup of coffee, a sandwich. He wasn’t eating dog food, Al, he had a dog. A puppy. He’d found a puppy.”
    â€œWhat kind of puppy?”
    â€œA mutt. No tail. Kind of scruffy. About yea big.” Rosco raised his hands and held his palms eight inches apart.
    â€œWell, there wasn’t any scruffy puppy there when we came across him.”

CHAPTER 5
    Belle remained silent as she climbed into Rosco’s aging Jeep. He closed the door behind her, walked around the car, and sat in the driver’s seat. “Are you okay?”
    She looked through the passenger-side window, her face pinched and sad. “Why would someone murder a homeless person, Rosco?”
    â€œWhat Al said, I guess. A fight over a liquor bottle … an unpaid debt—”
    â€œWhat if something more sinister is involved?”
    â€œSuch as?”
    â€œI don’t know yet … I just feel there’s a missing element. Maybe something to do with discrediting the homeless shelters.”
    â€œAl’s a good cop, Belle. If there’s a connection to this gossip about the Peterman brothers, he’ll uncover it.”
    Belle nodded thoughtfully but didn’t speak as Rosco eased into the steady stream of traffic clogging Winthrop Drive. “Where did you leave your car?”
    â€œWhat? Oh … down on Third, I think. Or maybe Fourth. But it was a good spot. No meter. I should be fine all day.… Oh, look at that. A newspaper vending machine’s been knocked into the street. It’s a Crier box, too.” She picked up Rosco’s car phone, punched in the Crier ’s central number, reported the problem, then replaced the receiver. “I don’t know why kids think its such a blast to vandalize these kiosks.”
    â€œMoney?” Rosco offered as he drove. “Maybe we should pick up your car and drive over to the yacht separately. Traffic will be worse later on. You’re sure you’re not in one of those areas that’s only good until four P.M