Ed Plum hurried to the billiard table, tore open the next envelope, and pulled out the document, cutting his finger on the paper’s edge.
FOURTEENTH • Go directly to the library. Do not pass Go.
24 Wrong All Wrong
GRACE WEXLER CLUNG unsteadily to Mr. Hoo’s arm. “Where are we going?”
“Who knows,” Hoo replied. “We didn’t even pass Go.”
Partner sat with partner at the long library table, moaning with impatience as Ed Plum opened another envelope, removed a tagged key, tried to unlock the top right-hand desk drawer, reread the tag, unlocked the upper left-hand drawer, and found the next document:
FIFTEENTH • Wrong! All answers are wrong!
“What!” Sydelle Pulaski cried.
I repeat: Wrong! All answers are wrong! Partnerships are canceled; you are on your own. Alone.
The lawyer will leave and return with the authorities at the appointed time. And time is running out. Hurry, find the name before the one who took my life takes another.
Remember: It is not what you have, it’s what you don’t have that counts.
Madame Hoo knew from the shifting eyes that a bad person was in the room. She was the bad person. They would find out soon. The crutch lady had her writing-book back, but all those pretty things she was going to sell, they wanted them back, too. She would be punished. Soon.
“How much time do we have?” Turtle asked.
Ed Plum left the library without answering. And locked the door!
“Oh my!” Flora Baumbach ran to the French doors. They opened.
Sydelle Pulaski complained of a chill, and the dressmaker had to shut the doors, but she left them unlatched, just in case.
Mr. Hoo said the tea tasted funny, maybe they had all been poisoned. Denton Deere diagnosed paranoia.
The doorman, who was pacing the room, replied that anyone who was not paranoid, after being told that the murderer would kill again, was really crazy. He stopped to pat Turtle’s slumped shoulders. “Cheer up, my friend, the game’s not over yet,” Sandy whispered. “You still can win. I hope you do.”
Otis Amber told everyone to sit where he could watch them.
Theo rose. “I think it’s about time we played as a team and shared our clues and shared the inheritance.”
With the murderer? Well, all right. Agreed.
Sydelle Pulaski still thought the answer had something to do with “America, the Beautiful.” “Does anybody have a clue word that is not in the song?”
“I’m not sure,” Doug said mischievously. “Sing it again.”
No one cared for that idea. “It is not what you have, it’s what you don’t have that counts,” Jake Wexler reminded them. “Maybe some words in the song are missing from the clues.”
That makes sense. “Does anyone have the word amber?” Mr. Hoo asked.
“Not again,” Otis Amber groaned. “You heard the will, it said all answers were wrong. Well, I was one of the wrong answers.”
“But Mr. Westing wrote the will before the game began.” Sydelle argued. “Perhaps he assumed we weren’t smart enough to find you out so soon.”
Judge Ford did not interfere (Otis Amber could take care of himself). She had to be prepared to defend Crow when the time came.
Crow sat with her head bowed, waiting.
No one had the word amber, but two pairs had am in their clues. “Two ams do not an amber make,” Sydelle declared. “Two ams stand for America, America.”
“I’ve got America,” Jake Wexler shouted. “I’ve got America.”
Ravings of a madman, Mr. Hoo thought. The podiatrist, could he be the one?
Jake explained in a calmer voice. “The two ams could not stand for America, America, because one of my clues is America.”
Sandy stood, took a long swig from his flask, coughed, then spoke in a hoarse voice. “We’re getting nowhere. Why doesn’t everybody hand in their clues so Ms. Pulaski can arrange them in order and we can see what’s missing?”
Her eyes narrowed with suspicion, the judge watched Sandy collect the clues. “Just write them out again,” he said to Turtle, who had eaten the originals. Then he placed the paper squares before the secretary and resumed his seat. What was her partner doing? Why was he playing into Westing’s hands? He knows the answer, he knows he’s leading the heirs to Crow. Again the judge studied the doorman’s battered face: the scars; the bashed-in nose; the hard, blue eyes under those taped spectacles. The baggy uniform. Everyone was given the perfect partner, Chris said. Chris was right. She was paired with the one person who could confound her plans, manipulate her moves, keep her from the truth. Her partner, Sandy McSouthers, was the only heir she had not investigated. Her partner, Sandy McSouthers, was Sam Westing.
THE SECRETARY QUICKLY arranged the clues in order:
O BEAUTIFUL FOR SPACIOUS SKIES
FOR AM WAVES OF GRAIN
FOR PURPLE MOUNTAIN MAJESTIES
ABOV FRUITED PLAIN
AMERICA AM
GOD SHED HIS GRACE ON THEE
AND N THY GOOD WITH BROTHERHOOD
FROM SEA TO SHINING SEA
“The missing words,” Sydelle Pulaski announced, “are ber, the, erica, and crow. Berthe Erica Crow!”
Crow paled.
Judge Ford stood. “May I have everyone’s attention? Thank you. Please listen very carefully to what I have to say.
“We found the answer to Sam Westing’s puzzle, now what are we going to do? Remember: We have no evidence of any kind against this unfortunate woman. We don’t even have proof that Sam Westing was murdered.
“Can we accuse an innocent woman of a murder that has never been proved? Crow is our neighbor and our helper. Can we condemn her to a life imprisonment just to satisfy our own greed? For money promised in an improbable and illegal will? If so, we are guilty of a far greater crime than the accused. Berthe Erica Crow’s only crime is that her name appears in a song. Our crime would be selling—yes, I said selling, selling for profit—the life of an innocent, helpless human being.”
The judge paused to let her words sink in, then she turned to her partner. Her voice hardened. “As
