Suspecto: Everyday Riddles

Small-town riddles you work out on paper, without the paper. Each one is a slice of an afternoon — Saturday in a driveway, a bakery before opening, four regulars at a diner counter. You get the names, a handful of things about each of them, and a few short notes that circle the answer without landing on it. "The waxed canvas toolbox belongs to neither Rita nor Vic." Put two notes together and one square stops being a maybe. You don't get everything at once. Get a square right and the next note turns up. Later on the boards start doing new things — a square that stays shut until you have earned it, a square that wants two answers, two people who turn out to want the same thing. They show up one at a time, with room to settle. Finish one and you get the picture: everyone you just worked out, drawn together, filed on your shelf. Play straight through, follow the chapters, or take the one that lands each day. No clock, no lives, nothing draining while you think. Two helpers sit under the board for when you want one. Works on a plane.