Read Online The Crossword Connection by Nero Blanc - Free Book Online

a discourse on meteorology. I phoned to discuss your espousement.”
    Belle nearly groaned aloud. “I appreciate your concern, Father, but I wish you’d wait and pass judgment after you meet Rosco. He’s a fine man, and I love him—”
    â€œLove is not the only ingredient in a marriage, Annabella.…”
    Belle looked out the rain-gray windows. That poor dog, she thought as she half listened to her father’s plodding lecture.
    â€œâ€¦ I simply ask that you consider this decision thoroughly, Annabella. You made a mistake once before—”
    â€œI have considered it, Father.”
    Silence echoed on both ends of the phone. Another stalemate, Belle realized, one more in an endless line. She took her eyes off the window and let her glance wander over her office: the foreign-language dictionaries lining the bookcase, the OED, her cherished 1911 Encyclopedia Britannica. These were ostensibly the tools of a cryptic-constructor’s trade, but they were also a legacy. She’d been raised to value intellect above all other attributes and to believe that the walls of academia were the only foundation that mattered. Those thoughts inevitably carried her to Rayanne and a contemplation on her parental conversations.
    â€œYou warned me not to judge a book by its cover, Father. Perhaps, you should wait until you meet Rosco before evaluating him.”
    The voice on the other end of the line was not amused. “I was referring to scholarly works, Annabella. However, the purpose of my call is to inform you that I may not be able to attend the festivities. My sciatica has been bothering me again, and I fear a long train journey—”
    Guilty relief rushed over Belle, but she did her best to temper the reaction. “You could always fly,” she offered.
    â€œThat’s out of the question, I’m afraid, Annabella. You know how little I like airplanes.”
    â€œBut they’re different nowadays, Father. They’re far more comfortable—”
    â€œJust as unsafe, however!”
    Belle didn’t respond to the accusation. Concerning the perils of air travel, her father had always been adamant. “Whatever you feel is best. I wouldn’t want you complicating your condition.”
    The conversation continued for another short minute. There was no more mention of Rosco and no further critique of Belle. Father and daughter concluded in polite formality. “I hope you’ll improve quickly,” she said.
    â€œIt’s an arduous trip,” was his noncommittal reply.
    Belle dropped the receiver back into the cradle and wasn’t surprised when it immediately rang again. One of the problems with her insistence upon having a single phone line with no additional services was a frequent busy signal. “Rosco? Sorry, my father called.… Where are you? I’ve been worried.…”
    The line crackled with static, but no voice was heard.
    â€œRosco? Your cell phone connection’s awful.…” She waited for a response. None was forthcoming. “Rosco? Hello?”
    Only silence ensued.
    â€œHello? Rosco?” Belle waited a moment, then banged down the phone, disgruntled. “Why can’t telemarketers leave you alone on the weekend?”

CHAPTER 8
    The police photographer snapped a series of pictures of the dead woman while Rosco stood near the wall, watching the procedure. The flash ricocheted across the wet asphalt and drenched walls behind the Newcastle bus terminal. With each shot, the twin fire escapes at the rear of the converted nineteenth-century building cast angular shadows along the browned bricks, making the crisscrossed ironwork loom like enormous arachnids.
    The flash popped a final time. Even at a distance, Rosco could easily see the woman’s face. She seemed far too peaceful, almost as if she were smiling.
    â€œDo they know how she died?” Rosco’s question was directed at Abe Jones,