A Puzzle in a Pear Tree by Parnell Hall

said she had a shopping trip planned in the afternoon, and would I mind switching spots. I actually did mind—eleven to twelve is much more convenient than one to two—but there was no real reason why I couldn’t. So I rang you up, told you I was switching spots.”
    “Who else did you tell?”
    “No one. I assume you told Dan Finley.”
    “Someone might have told me,” Sherry said. “I thought Becky was dead until she walked in the door.”
    Doddsworth regarded Sherry with interest. “So, you’re the one who found her?”
    “That’s right.”
    “Do you feel up to telling us what you did?” Chief Harper asked.
    “Of course,” Sherry said. “I changed in town hall. I walked around the green, took the actors’ path to the back of the crèche so as not to mess up the snow. I stashed my bag of clothes and coat behind the door. I’d like to get them now.”
    “Are they there?”
    “They should be. May I have them?”
    “If you don’t mind us looking through them first.”
    “Looking for what?”
    “I don’t know. Perhaps a murder weapon. Perhaps a clue. Anyway, you stashed your clothes and then what?”
    “I peeked out to make sure there was no one passing by. Then I crept out to relieve the girl playing Mary. I thought it was Becky. I tapped her, nudged her, got no response. I thought she’d fallen asleep. I tried to lift her. That’s when I realized I was dealing with a dead weight. I lost my grip, and she fell out of the stable.”
    “What happened then?”
    “I don’t know. I’m afraid I fainted.”
    “So you didn’t see the other actors react?”
    “No. I’m sorry. You’ll have to ask them.”
    A car skidded to a stop in front of the Congregational church. The doors slammed, and two women came pelting across the snow.
    Doddsworth scowled. “Something must needs be done. I realize you have limited personnel, yet there must be some way to keep the spectators back.”
    Doddsworth put up his arms, started to yell at the approaching intruders. The angry words froze on his lips.
    It was his wife and daughter.

13
    “DADDY!” MAXINE CRIED, DUCKING UNDER THE CRIME-SCENE ribbon and climbing up into the stable. “Is it her? Is it Dorrie? Tell me! Tell me, please!”
    The inspector sighed heavily. “Yes, Max. It is.”
    Maxine let out a fresh wail, threw herself sobbing into her father’s arms. “That can’t be! It can’t be! We were going shopping.”
    Doddsworth hugged his daughter tight, but looked up inquiringly. “When?”
    His ex-wife glared at him as if this were all his fault. A slight but attractive woman with full lips and green eyes, Pamela Doddsworth resembled her daughter a great deal, yet struck Cora as an unlikely mate for the lumbering Englishman. That epiphany had evidently occurred to Pamela too. “This morning. Dorrie was going to come pick her up.”
    “You were at home, Max?”
    “That’s right. Interrogate your own daughter.” Pamela pried Maxine away from Doddsworth and cradled her protectively.
    “No!” Maxine cried, twisting away. “I have to know what happened.”
    Doddsworth shook his head apologetically. “It’s too soon to tell.”
    “But she was fine when she came to the crèche.”
    Doddsworth blinked. “When she
what
?”
    “She was just fine.”
    Cora studied the look on his face as comprehension dawned. “You mean you were the previous Mary?” Doddsworth murmured incredulously. “The one she came to relieve?”
    “Yes, of course. We were going to go Christmas shopping. But she got scheduled one to two. What good was that? I was done at eleven. So she found out who was eleven to twelve, and asked her to change.”
    Doddsworth, overcome, could think of nothing to say.
    Chief Harper stepped in. “How did she find out who was eleven to twelve?” he asked.
    “I don’t know. Dorrie just called me up, said it was okay, everything was going to be all right.” The tears came again. “All right. How can it be all right?” she wailed. “Daddy,