Black Cat Weekly #21

THE PILFERED PICTOGRAM, by Hal Charles

THE PILFERED PICTOGRAM,

by Hal CharlesWhen Sally Summers arrived for the July meeting of the Miss Marple Mystery Club, the other members were waiting at the entrance of Agatha Crampton’s English garden. For several years the group had been meeting the first Tuesday of every month to share their love of mysteries.

“Ladies,” said Agatha, “I have something special planned for today’s meeting. Before we settle in for tea and discussion, I’d like you to accompany me on a journey through my garden, where I’ve arranged some puzzles related to the mysteries we’ve read this year.”

As the group excitedly buzzed around her, Sally smiled. Here were seven highly successful women willing to dress in tweed suits even in the July heat to honor their British namesake. About the only thing individualizing their outfits was the ornament each sported on her lapel, ranging from Rachel’s bright red boutonniere, to Stella’s sapphire broach, to Agatha’s antique lapel watch. Sally proudly wore her American flag pin.

“Follow me,” said Agatha as they started down the gravel path. Arriving at a small wrought iron table surrounded by dozens of white blooms, Sally read the words on the sign resting on the table.

ENJOY MY GARDENAS!

“This one’s easy came a voice from Sally’s left. “The ‘i’ is missing from gardenias, so I’m guessing Poe’s “The Purloined Letter.”

“Good for you,” said Agatha as the group applauded Jill, their newest member. “I warn you, though, my puzzles get more difficult as we go.”

Their next stop was near a clump of daffodils, where Sally noticed a collection of tiny concrete garden gnomes decked out in green jackets and red stocking caps.

“These puzzles really are something less than challenging,” said Rachel, sounding a bit impatient. She and Agatha had founded the club and always seemed to be trying to one-up each other. “It doesn’t take Sherlock to know we have Doyle’s ‘Red-Headed League.’”

“Oh, come on, Rachel,” said Katheryn, another relatively new member, “I think these puzzles are clever.”

A little crestfallen, Agatha motioned for the group to take the path to the left. Approaching an arbor of Japanese maples, she looked at Rachel. “Perhaps this one will be a little more challenging.”

Everyone scanned the arbor in silence till Bea, the group’s oldest member, pointed upward. Suspended from a limb overhead was a tiny stained-glass window that usually perched on a workbench in Agatha’s greenhouse.

The women looked at each other as they shook their heads.

Suddenly, Bea said, “Very clever, Agatha. Could this be Raymond Chandler’s The High Window?”

“I loved that book!” squealed Jill.

“Well done, Bea, but this next one will take even more thought,” said a now-beaming Agatha as she led the group deeper into the garden.

Navigating around a boxwood hedge, the group was confronted by a tangle of rose bushes. In their midst sat an empty concrete pedestal.

“It’s gone,” said Agatha.

“What’s gone?” said Sally, sensing her friend’s disappointment.

“The last puzzle,” said Agatha, “the special one. It was here right before I went to the bakery for the scones.”

“Can you describe the puzzle?” said Sally.

Agatha’s shoulders slumped. “It was a large mirror. I had it set so that as we approached, it would catch our reflection.”

The group looked puzzled.

“Don’t you see?” said a deflated Agatha. “We meet on Tuesdays, and the mystery the puzzle pointed to was Christie’s The Tuesday Club Murders.”

“Brilliant,” said Bea. “I’m not sure even this august group could have solved that one.”

“But we have an even bigger mystery,” said Sally, studying the pedestal. “Who could have taken the mirror and ruined the fun?” Her gaze turned to the cascading roses. Fingering a broken branch, she said, “I believe I can solve this one.”

SOLUTION

When Sally pointed to the bright red, not-yet-wilted rose on Rachel’s lapel and reasoned she could have picked it only in the time Agatha was at the bakery, the time when she pilfered the mirror, Rachel broke down and admitted she had taken the mirror in an effort to embarrass Agatha, who always drew praise for coming up with such clever ideas. Over tea and scones Agatha forgave her old friend, and the Miss Marple Mystery Club enjoyed the July day together, even in their tweeds.