Last Puzzle & Testament by Parnell Hall Page B

that’s his name. The boy with the beard and long hair.”
    “Why did he hassle him?”
    “I don’t know. Is it really important? I mean, I’d like to help, but I am quite busy, and—”
    “Just a few more questions,” Chief Harper said, and once again sensed something wasn’t right. He’d really just begun, and as for busy, how busy could Beerbaum be? The man was at home in the middle of a workday, so he didn’t have a nine-to-five job. And while he’d just moved into Bakerhaven, his house was in no way unsettled. In fact, the living room in which they now sat was immaculately furnished, down to the least little knickknacks adorning the bookshelves and the walls. It was so well put together, Chief Harper would have suspected Harvey Beerbaum had rented it furnished, had it not been for such personal touches as a framed crossword puzzle over the bookcase, and a trophy on the mantelpiece on which Chief Harper could see the name Beerbaum inscribed.
    “Where are you employed, Mr. Beerbaum?”
    Harvey Beerbaum blinked. “That’s your question?”
    “No, I’m just curious. You mentioned you were busy.”
    “Well, I am. Perhaps not in a way you recognize. I’m self-employed. I’m a writer and a constructor.”
    “Constructor?”
    “I construct crossword puzzles. And write books about them.”
    “You do this for a living?”
    “I do not,” Harvey Beerbaum said. “I do it for fun. It provides me a living, but that’s ahatp height=" bonus. I happen to relish my work.”
    “I’m glad to hear it,” Chief Harper said. Relish. “And that’s what you’re so busy at?”
    “Did you ever attempt to construct a crossword puzzle, Chief?”
    “No, I did not.”
    “Well, trust me, it’s hard work. Enjoyable, but hard. One gets a train of thought going. And when it’s interrupted …”
    “It’s hard to get back to,” Chief Harper finished pleasantly. “But since I’ve already interrupted, you might as well just go with the flow. You’ll get back to your puzzle soon enough.”
    Harvey Beerbaum took a breath, exhaled in exasperation. “So what do you want to know?”
    “When Jeff Beasley accosted Daniel Hurley in the parking lot, what went on?”
    “I don’t know. I couldn’t hear. I saw him stagger over, toward the boy. I saw him put his hand on the motorcycle.”
    “Jeff Beasley put his hand on the motorcycle?”
    “He grabbed the handlebar, yes. Possibly to keep from falling, but he did grab it.”
    “What did the boy do?”
    “Pushed him away.”
    “ Pushed him?”
    Harvey Beerbaum held up his hands. “Oh, now, look. Don’t put words in my mouth.”
    “They’re your words,” Chief Harper pointed out. “You said, pushed him .”
    “Maybe shooed him would be better. Or brushed him off. I wouldn’t want to give the impression the boy did anything violent.”
    “But he did push Beasley away?”
    “In a manner of speaking.”
    “I see. What did Beasley do then?”
    “He went back to him. Which shows it wasn’t a violent encounter. If it had been violent, he would have gone away. Or fallen to the ground. A man that drunk would have trouble keeping his feet.”
    “Okay,” Chief Harper said. “Jeff Beasley grabbed the handlebars, Daniel Hurley pushed him away, Jeff Beasley came back. What happened then?”
    “Beasley said something to him—I don’t know what—and then stood there, gesturing. Not grabbing the motorcycle. At least he’d learned that lesson. And the boy didn’t push him again.”
    “Did he drive off?”
    “Who? The boy?”
    “Yes. Daniel Hurley. Did he drive off on the motorcycle?”
    “Not while I was watching.”
    “So you drove off and left the two of them in the parking lot?”
    “I drove off. Whether that left the two of them in the parking lot, I can’t say. I didn’t pay the slightest attention to either of them once I started my car.”
    “And earlier in the bar, did you overhear Jeff Beasley talking to anyone?”
    Harvey Beerbaum