Deadlock (FBI Thriller #24)(56)
Mrs. Trumbo shifted the plates in her arms. “I know young people hook up faster nowadays—that’s what you call it, isn’t it? Like fish? No reason to be ashamed about it, but I am surprised at you, Chief Wilde. Don’t you have rules about not fraternizing with the community whenever you’re tempted? A reputation to uphold? Aren’t you supposed to be our moral beacon, as our mayor claims to be?”
Wilde stared at her. “I don’t recall being a moral beacon listed in my job description, Mrs. Trumbo, and no, our fine mayor didn’t mention it, either.”
Pippa realized the conversation was rapidly deteriorating and raised her hand.
“Mrs. Trumbo, Chief Wilde and I did not hook up, and believe me, that tale I told you is true, though I wish it weren’t because I still have a headache. And look at my wrists, all bandaged up.” Mrs. Trumbo simply looked at her, a thick salt-and-pepper eyebrow raised. What was she thinking? Bondage? Surely not. If only Pippa had her creds, she’d have a better chance of convincing her. But she didn’t, so she shut up. Let Wilde handle Mrs. Trumbo.
He said easily, “We sure would like a cup of coffee, Mrs. Trumbo. I don’t suppose—”
Trumbo stared between them, amused, and nodded. “Very well. You two go into the dining room. Ignore the two tables we used for breakfast. I’ll clean them up soon enough. Ms. Cinelli, I have your breakfast warming since I was expecting you any minute. Chief, I’ll have to see about you. I know I have a couple of scones left. I hear you’re a strawberry preserves man?”
He nodded. “Yes, ma’am, that’d be very kind of you.”
My scones were Major Trumbo’s favorite.”
Mrs. Trumbo gave Pippa a last look and a wink and walked back toward the kitchen.
Once they were seated in the dining room, Pippa sat back in her chair and sighed. “I know she was teasing us, but I still feel like I have a scarlet letter on my forehead. She didn’t believe me, not for a second.”
“I wouldn’t have believed you, either. It sounds like a tale a seriously embarrassed person would dream up. I liked your effort at a frontal assault, though, Cinelli, right out there with the truth.”
Pippa shrugged. “Yeah, yeah, but it didn’t work out well, did it?” She began drumming her fingernails on the table. “When it’s a question of who’s sleeping with whom, why is it always the woman who’s the instigator, not the man?”
“Excuse me? I was the one she accused of moral turpitude.”
“When everyone in St. Lumis hears about our wild night, it’ll be me who jumped poor Chief Wilde. You wait and see. How I wish I had my gun and my creds. I feel half-dressed.”
Wilde grinned. “Know what you mean.”
Pippa sighed. “Dillon called me about the fire, said he drove back to Georgetown in record time last night. Thank heaven Sherlock got Sean out in time and the fire stayed in the kitchen. Can you imagine someone breaking one of your windows and throwing in gasoline?”
“I’ve been giving the situation a lot of thought and I have to agree. The arson at Savich’s house last night has to connect to someone here in St. Lumis.”
Pippa sat forward. “Otherwise the red boxes and the puzzle showing Major Trumbo hanging out of a burning window right here in town make no sense. If no one here is involved, why did they pick St. Lumis, and why attack me here?”
Wilde said, “Maybe St. Lumis is part of some larger scheme they’re betting none of us can solve. The only clue we really have is the puzzle, and that means we start with Maude Filly.”
He paused, fiddled with a salt shaker.
“What?”
“I was remembering when I was a cop in Philadelphia. I investigated murders, faced off with violent drug dealers, you name it, but I never came across something this—well, convoluted. It’s like some madman with a hate on for Savich has come up with a weird kind of revenge, daring us to catch him.”
Pippa unfolded a napkin and spread it in her lap. “It makes me think of a fat spider weaving a web. No, I do not want to think about spiders. Everyone agrees it could be some kind of payback, revenge, whatever you want to call it by someone Agent Savich arrested or harmed, or maybe someone close to them.” She shook her head. “Okay, after I’ve had a shower and changed, we’ll go see Mrs. Filly. Don’t forget, I’ve got to meet with your sketch artist.”
“It’s all set up. Lisa Trout’s her name. She’s excited.”
“The more I try to remember him…” She shrugged. “We’ll see what pops out.”
They heard Mrs. Trumbo’s heavy tread even before she appeared in the dining room doorway, two big platters held expertly on her arms. “Chief Wilde, I figured I should always be generous to our local police, no matter what you’ve been up to, so I brought you some scrambled eggs and bacon. Might keep you from stealing some of Ms. Cinelli’s.” She carefully set down the plates, straightened the silverware, finally nodded to herself. She paused, looked at each of them again. “Tell me, is this love at first sight? Or do you young people not believe in that anymore?”
“I don’t know,” Pippa said. “Love at first sight has never landed at my door.”
Mrs. Trumbo smiled at Chief Wilde, but when he only smiled back, she walked out of the room and returned with a tray of coffee and cups. As she poured out their coffee, Pippa said, “Why do you think Mrs. Filly has a puzzle with Major Trumbo hanging out of a window in the old Alworth Hotel?”