Death by Sudoku (4 page)

Three down, forty-something to go
, Liza thought as she found another cue in the lower tier of boxes. The number 2 appeared in the first row across and the third. Cross-checking the columns for the available spaces forced another solution.

Soon enough, however, she’d found all the obvious matchups. Then her pencil came into play, listing the possible candidate numbers to fill each empty space. It became a process of elimination, zooming in to cross-check spaces with the least numbers of candidates, then zooming out to see how each solution affected the puzzle as a whole. Each time she placed a number in ink, the circle of unknowns shrank.

Liza frowned. She was moving right along—too fast, in fact. What was Will up to with this puzzle? She found herself solving it with the simplest techniques in her arsenal—the kind of stuff that Hank was reading in his Nincompoops sudoku book. Easy logic quickly uncovered some candidates—and just as quickly eliminated others. Where were the really tricky moves—the X-wing solutions depending on four spaces at once, the Swordfish configurations that rested on six?

If Will had a real brain-buster up his sleeve, it should have shown by now
, Liza thought worriedly.
I’m running out of spaces with candidates.

But no last-minute brilliance in puzzle development appeared. The number of spaces with more than one candidate kept contracting, right down to a final set of solutions.

Liza took a long, deep breath, almost a snort. Maybe it was too easy, but it was a definite solution. She pushed all niggling doubts aside and began checking for any errors. Her focus was now entirely on the sheet of paper before her. The digital display and the murmurs from the proctors and onlookers receded from her consciousness.

But Liza came back to the world with a thump—an audible thump, she suddenly realized. Liza looked over her shoulder to see Hank, his face shining, sitting up straight and holding out his puzzle. One of the proctors took the paper and brought it up to Will. After studying it for a moment, he shook his head. “I’m sorry, this is not correct.”

Hank’s face crumpled. “I—I—” He rose from his seat and slunk from the Irvine Room, blinking back tears.

Probably didn’t double-check
his
solution
, Liza thought as she began that very process on her puzzle. A painstaking recap through every space in each row, column, and box could take minutes. But it could also avoid a careless—and disastrous—mistake. Liza looked down at her solution. It was ready.

Silently, she turned her puzzle sheet over. A proctor instantly whisked it away. Will Singleton perused it and smiled. “We have our first successful completion.”

Liza blinked as her focus slowly expanded. The digital display had counted down barely a quarter of the allotted time.

Will Singleton gave Liza a nod as she rose from her seat and headed for the rear of the event room. Along the way, she was aware of several sets of eyes following her—a couple of them competitive, some nervously going from her to the clock up front. And one guy, she suspected, was checking out her butt.

Concentrate on the puzzle, not the scenery
, she silently scolded all of them.

When she reached the double doors, a proctor opened them for her—another perk for the celebrity guest? She wondered.

Liza stepped out into the corridor, releasing a long-repressed sigh. But she cut that short when she saw Derrick Robbins leaning against the opposite wall. All he needed were a few feathers drifting past his mouth to underscore the cat-and-canary look on his face.

“Your . . . friend came out in a hurry,” Derrick said. “I’m afraid he didn’t look very successful. In fact, he muttered something about going home, then almost ran for the exit.”

Liza gave a different kind of sigh. “I guess he found it hard to face me.”

“I sincerely hope that’s what kept you in there.” Derrick made an elaborate production out of consulting his watch. “I’ve been waiting for several minutes more than I expected.”

“Maybe you can talk to Will about where he got that monster clock sitting up beside him,” Liza suggested. “Then I could see exactly how long you had to lean there.”

“Time is of the essence when it comes to competitive sudoku,” Derrick scolded her. “You never talk about that in your column.”

“That’s because most of my columns are about helping people who have just started with sudoku,” Liza tartly replied. She gave him a sharp look. “You really read what I write?”

“Religiously.” Derrick put a hand to his chest and gave her a beatific smile. Then he got serious again. “I like your stuff. But I think you don’t always go far enough into the game. There are enough sudoku players to get into the tough stuff every once in a while. And you’re very methodical. You talk a lot about pencil work, listing all the possibilities for each and every box. If you did that for your contest round, I’m surprised you’re out by now.”

“It’s a fundamental,” Liza said. “The people who read my column have to learn to walk before they can skate.”

“Maybe, but it makes things a bit boring for people like me,” Derrick complained. “Can’t you occasionally discuss techniques like Swordfish or Nishio?”

“I suspect that a reader like you is one in a million.” Liza laughed. “And I don’t have a million readers yet.” She turned a speculative eye at Derrick. “Would you be willing to discuss your methods for publication? We could do a series of columns . . .”

Derrick’s expressive features took on a look of excessive modesty. “I don’t know. As you say, a lot of it goes to having a cultivated eye.” He shot her a quick look. “The rest might make heavy going for beginners. I will admit to one quirk, though. I like to solve my puzzles in numerical order.”

Liza gave him a sharp glance. Was Derrick just being outrageous, or was this a competitor’s attempt at psychological warfare?

Derrick certainly talked a good game. On the other hand, some people considered the Nishio technique to be little better than guesswork. Liza decided to find out how well he’d placed in his group as soon has she got away.

That wasn’t going to be soon, it seemed. “If you’re recovered enough, how about some lunch?” Derrick asked.

Liza was happy to say yes.

They ate on a shaded terrace facing away from the airport. Liza poked an appreciative fork at her
frutti di mare
salad. “Will really outdid himself on the catering—”

She faltered as Derrick ducked his head like an abashed kid. “I happen to know a guy with a little restaurant down in Newport. And the hotel management was agreeable.”

“I should have expected something was up, since we’re the only ones out here.”

Derrick shrugged. “Sometimes the TV-star thing can smooth the way for me.” His grin was still boyish, until a closer look at his skin revealed the start of fine wrinkles.

Something of that shock must have shown on her face, because Derrick’s grin grew lopsided. “Give me ten years, and I should be able to pull a Leif Erickson.”

“The Viking?” Liza asked in puzzlement.

“No, the actor.” Derrick replied. “As a young man, he got typecast as a pretty boy. When he got older, his pretty face got rugged and craggy, and he had a whole second act as an authority figure.”

“I see.” Liza cocked her head. “And what exactly will you do to prepare for your second act?”

“Practice my squint, smile a lot, and avoid Botox like the plague.”

That got a laugh from her. “And what will you be doing during the intermission between acts?”

Derrick got more serious. “Hopefully, some directing. I did a few episodes all through the last few seasons of
Spycraft
, and I’ve gotten some bites. Also, there’s a project I want to produce.” Now he became mysterious. “In fact, I’ve got some footage I’d like you to see.”

“Is the wide-screen monitor coming up out of the shrubbery, or do we go to a private screening room?” Liza joked.

“Option B—but it’s a long ride.”

She glanced at her watch. “How far? Is there time?”

“It’s in Santa Barbara, in my house,” Derrick admitted. He quickly raised a hand to cut off her protests. “I’ve got a plane, remember. We can offer you dinner—”

“You know I’m trying to get out of the PR business,” Liza began.

“I understand,” Derrick replied. “But you know I’m never going to get anywhere near Michelle. At best, she considers me last year’s model—or is that last decade’s?” He made a visible effort to cool off. “Maybe it wasn’t a good idea, ambushing you like this. But I don’t want some shlub assistant looking at this.”

“Well, since the ambush included a good lunch, I’ll make you a sporting proposition,” Liza said. “Whoever comes in with the higher score makes the decision. How’s that?”

“You’re on,” Derrick said.

At the end of lunch, Liza headed for the ladies’ room. She knew it wasn’t easy to solve any kind of puzzle with bladder pressure disrupting concentration. She also took a moment to check out the posted results. Derrick had come in number one for his group.

“So, I guess it’s a sporting proposition after all,” she muttered as she headed back to the event room. Inside, there were now only twenty-five spaces for the competitors. Will tried to place her right beside Derrick, but Liza shook her head. She accepted a seat in the first row, but on the other end from the actor.

It wasn’t just her desire to keep a low profile that had her sitting as far away from Derrick as she could get. Knowing Derrick’s prankish nature, it was better not to give him any temptation. And after she opened the envelope for the final competition, Liza was sure she’d made the right decision. Will might not have had a hand in the catering for their terrace lunch, but he’d certainly outdone himself on this puzzle. Liza soon found herself abandoning her pen and sketching possibilities in with her pencil. Row by row, column by column, box by box.
Ah. Out of the nine spaces in this box, only one has a 3. Get the pen.

Her eyes skittered around the puzzle, but not at random. When it came to sudoku, much of the battle was won by observation. Here was a space with only two possibilities, a 1 and a 4, and farther down the column another space with the same pair as the only possibilities. Some sudoku aficionados called numbers like these naked pairs. One of those two numbers definitely went in one of those two spaces, so Liza could eliminate 1 and 4 from every other space in the column. Naked pairs could also be found in rows or squares, too. With experience, Liza had learned to spot naked triplets and even quadruplets. Each one she discovered eliminated possibilities from other spaces.

A trained eye like Liza’s could also detect hidden pairs, matching numbers hidden among lists of four, five, or six possibilities. Again, each discovery eliminated possible numbers in other squares, reducing the circle of uncertainty.

The world receded as Liza’s eyes and brain roved the eighty-one little squares. Will had designed this puzzle with experts in mind, and Liza soon had to dig deeper into her bag of tricks, using more exotic techniques, shaving away the possibilities until only one logical choice remained for each space.

She heard a slight disturbance while she checked over her solution but only covered her ears, concentrating on the puzzle. Yes. Done.

Liza turned over her paper. A glance at the clock showed she’d taken a good twenty minutes longer on this puzzle. Then she looked at Will, who gave her a congratulatory nod—but with an odd expression on his face. She discovered why when she turned to leave.

Politely holding the door for her was Derrick Robbins.

 
The road from the private airfield quickly began to rise into the mountains surrounding Santa Barbara. Derrick drove the car, a nondescript SUV, just as expertly as he’d piloted the plane up from Orange County. “I hope you’re not expecting John Travolta Airlines,” he’d said when he conducted her across the tarmac to a small Learjet. “I don’t own a fleet of 747s.”

“This is beautiful. And you can’t beat the view.” Since she had the seat next to the pilot, the flight had been an amazing visual treat. Southern California had rolled beneath them in all its splendor on the short flight.

Liza had decided to share the cockpit with him rather than sit in the small but luxurious passenger compartment. She wanted to see where they were going, even if they were going to crash.

Thankfully, Derrick turned out to be as good at piloting as he was at sudoku. And that was very good indeed. In the end, less than a minute separated their solving times for both puzzles. Liza realized that the small commotion she’d blocked out must have been Derrick turning in his solution. “If I hadn’t gone over that puzzle one more time . . .” she began.

“You wouldn’t have been Liza K,” Derrick finished for her. He’d been a very good winner, not insisting on making her honor their bet, which somehow had made Liza feel even more obligated to go with him to Santa Barbara. After a call to Mrs. Halvorsen, her next-door neighbor, to ensure that Rusty would be taken care of, Liza had shouldered her bag and accompanied Derrick to the general aviation section of John Wayne Airport—the part serving small planes.

“What were you sweet-talking Will Singleton for before we left?” Derrick asked as they boarded his plane.

“I merely agreed to return Hank Lonebaugh’s sudoku solver. It’s a fairly expensive model—”

“‘Agreed,’ huh?” Derrick squinted over at her. “That’s a Michelle Markson word. Most people would offer to help out.
Agreed
suggests an exchange of favors.”

Liza shrugged. “Well, he did give me a copy of the puzzle he unleashed on us—and the one from the entry round you were in.”

“Of course,” Derrick said, “he’d need different puzzles for each round, to discourage collusion or cheating.”

“I’ve certainly never tried to memorize a sudoku,” Liza said. “Anyway, I’m going to use both of them in my column to discuss techniques for dealing with easy and tough puzzles.”