a two-story building, in the Spanish colonial architectural style seemingly required for Southern California. Liza barely got an impression of gleaming white walls and reddish orange roof tiles as Detective Vasquez brought her in. Liza took off her sunglasses when she heard a voice call out her name.
She focused on a short, bald man who looked like a living, breathing Elmer Fudd. But that pudgy face was known to everyone who watched Court TV—or even the national news. Alvin Hunzinger might not look very Hollywood, but he’d earned the nickname of “lawyer to the stars” in a series of high-profile cases.
Right now, he cast a bemused glance at Liza—Elmer at his most befuddled. Most of his practice involved movie stars as perpetrators, not victims. “Michelle Markson sent me up here,” he said in a voice as silky as Elmer’s was silly.
Liza shook her head, hiding a smile. Trust Michelle to get in ahead of everyone. Her intelligence sources must rival the CIA’s.
Alvin turned to Detective Vasquez, extending a hand. “I’m—”
“I know who you are,” Vasquez snarled, definitely not amused. In fact, if she’d been judging by the look on his face, Liza would have thought that Alvin had just driven spikes through both of the cop’s long-suffering feet.
PART TWO : Solving
When you come down to it, sudoku is always about the same thing—filling in eighty-one spaces where between twenty-odd to forty-odd spaces have been filled in already. The question becomes, what techniques do you use to fill up the empties?
“Easy” sudoku need only a few techniques. With a simple scan of the rows and columns, you can see the only numbers that will fit in certain spaces. A more detailed search fills more spaces, and the logical interaction of filled spaces in rows, columns, and squares forces solutions. The harder the puzzle, however, the farther you have to stretch this logic, until, at the greatest levels of difficulty, it may be hard to distinguish between a logical technique and inspired guesswork.
—Excerpt from Sudo-cues by Liza K
6
Hours later, Liza had to wonder if she’d made the right decision. She’d accepted Alvin Hunzinger’s services, infuriating Detective Vasquez. But she’d also annoyed Alvin by stubbornly staying while Vasquez and several other detectives questioned her over her statement. They spent considerable time pecking away at any inconsistencies while Liza labored to tell them as much about the previous evening as she could remember.
Alvin’s pudgy face took on a pained expression as Liza kept trying to bring up Derrick’s story about secret messages in the Seattle paper. Vasquez and his colleagues kept cutting her off, asking questions about her relationship with Derrick, or Jenny, or with anyone who might bear a grudge against him.
At last, the lawyer rose and said, “Excuse me, Detectives, but I have some business to take care of. I’m advising my client to say nothing in my absence.” He turned a very un-Elmer Fudd stare at Liza. “Understand?”
Liza silently nodded yes.
As soon as Alvin was out of the interrogation room, Vasquez jumped out of his chair. “Okay, so maybe you don’t want to talk, but you’re sure as hell going to listen.” His normally sullen features looked more like a thundercloud about to blast the ground. “Innocent people usually don’t lawyer up when they come down to give a statement.” He thrust his face closer to Liza’s. “And they usually don’t have a hot-dog lawyer waiting for them when they arrive at the station.”
After that, the interrogators ignored Liza, even to the extent of arguing over the conduct of the case. “We’re wasting time here,” the female cop who’d taken Detective Howard’s place insisted. “There are other leads—”
“Not till Howard finishes the search down the slope,” Vasquez replied.
Liza’s empty stomach lurched at the thought of Jenny Robbins’s broken body lying somewhere far below the
She focused on a short, bald man who looked like a living, breathing Elmer Fudd. But that pudgy face was known to everyone who watched Court TV—or even the national news. Alvin Hunzinger might not look very Hollywood, but he’d earned the nickname of “lawyer to the stars” in a series of high-profile cases.
Right now, he cast a bemused glance at Liza—Elmer at his most befuddled. Most of his practice involved movie stars as perpetrators, not victims. “Michelle Markson sent me up here,” he said in a voice as silky as Elmer’s was silly.
Liza shook her head, hiding a smile. Trust Michelle to get in ahead of everyone. Her intelligence sources must rival the CIA’s.
Alvin turned to Detective Vasquez, extending a hand. “I’m—”
“I know who you are,” Vasquez snarled, definitely not amused. In fact, if she’d been judging by the look on his face, Liza would have thought that Alvin had just driven spikes through both of the cop’s long-suffering feet.
PART TWO : Solving
When you come down to it, sudoku is always about the same thing—filling in eighty-one spaces where between twenty-odd to forty-odd spaces have been filled in already. The question becomes, what techniques do you use to fill up the empties?
“Easy” sudoku need only a few techniques. With a simple scan of the rows and columns, you can see the only numbers that will fit in certain spaces. A more detailed search fills more spaces, and the logical interaction of filled spaces in rows, columns, and squares forces solutions. The harder the puzzle, however, the farther you have to stretch this logic, until, at the greatest levels of difficulty, it may be hard to distinguish between a logical technique and inspired guesswork.
—Excerpt from Sudo-cues by Liza K
6
Hours later, Liza had to wonder if she’d made the right decision. She’d accepted Alvin Hunzinger’s services, infuriating Detective Vasquez. But she’d also annoyed Alvin by stubbornly staying while Vasquez and several other detectives questioned her over her statement. They spent considerable time pecking away at any inconsistencies while Liza labored to tell them as much about the previous evening as she could remember.
Alvin’s pudgy face took on a pained expression as Liza kept trying to bring up Derrick’s story about secret messages in the Seattle paper. Vasquez and his colleagues kept cutting her off, asking questions about her relationship with Derrick, or Jenny, or with anyone who might bear a grudge against him.
At last, the lawyer rose and said, “Excuse me, Detectives, but I have some business to take care of. I’m advising my client to say nothing in my absence.” He turned a very un-Elmer Fudd stare at Liza. “Understand?”
Liza silently nodded yes.
As soon as Alvin was out of the interrogation room, Vasquez jumped out of his chair. “Okay, so maybe you don’t want to talk, but you’re sure as hell going to listen.” His normally sullen features looked more like a thundercloud about to blast the ground. “Innocent people usually don’t lawyer up when they come down to give a statement.” He thrust his face closer to Liza’s. “And they usually don’t have a hot-dog lawyer waiting for them when they arrive at the station.”
After that, the interrogators ignored Liza, even to the extent of arguing over the conduct of the case. “We’re wasting time here,” the female cop who’d taken Detective Howard’s place insisted. “There are other leads—”
“Not till Howard finishes the search down the slope,” Vasquez replied.
Liza’s empty stomach lurched at the thought of Jenny Robbins’s broken body lying somewhere far below the
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