Deadlock (FBI Thriller #24)(63)

“Oh, Major Trumbo had a mouth all right, but he could seam it into a thin line when he wanted to put you down. He could still sneer, blight you, with that thin line. I guess you could say the puzzle was my payback to that philanderer.”

“Philanderer?”

Mrs. Filly’s eyes showed some heat, not much, but enough for Pippa to see it. So there was a little anger left. “He was always going on out-of-town trips, never told me why, said it was none of my business. I knew he was cheating on me—lipstick on his clothes, bits of paper left on the dresser with phone numbers, names, you get the gist. I think he did it on purpose. He was proud of his cheating. One day he told me he wanted a divorce. I asked him her name. He smiled from ear to ear, told me her name was Lillian Pomfrey. She had a son by a previous marriage, and she managed a hotel in Baltimore, where he’d met her. He said she understood him, she’d do anything for him, things I wouldn’t. Can you believe he actually used that tired old cliché? I told him good luck with her and let me know what she’d be doing for him six months from now. He didn’t hit me, but I knew he wanted to. I filed for divorce myself. Of course, I should have done it long before. My only demand was he pay off the mortgage on my puzzle store, which he did. After fifteen years of dealing with the major, believe me, I was glad to have another poor woman take him on. I celebrated with a bottle of champagne.”

She beamed at them and laughed.





40


Mrs. Filly hiccupped and shook her head. “Forgive me. Now, I will admit I was surprised a couple of years later when Major Trumbo and Lill moved back to St. Lumis to retire here.”

Wilde said, “I know the major died five years ago, right? How did he die?”

“All I know is he and Lill went to visit her son at his vacation cabin somewhere in the Poconos. Her son is a textile artist, creates beautiful pictures with thread on his loom. When Lill came back to St. Lumis two weeks later, she was carrying the major in an urn, said he’d fallen over with a heart attack, died instantly.”

Pippa said, “And over the years you and Mrs. Trumbo have become friends?”

“That’s right. It didn’t take long. We had coffee and talked about marriage to the major, about how he could be mean and nasty as all get-out. There wasn’t much left for us to do but laugh about him and thank the powers that be we didn’t have to deal with him ever again. Now I think about it, having him in common is what made us friends. I made the puzzle to remind us we were free of the old lecher.” She smiled.

Pippa said, “When did you make the puzzle, Mrs. Filly?”

“Ah, I made it shortly after he ended up in that urn on Lill’s mantel, not in the basement, where he belonged. She did it as a joke, I think, although she said it was a fitting place for him. She told me one of the visitors at the B&B asked her about the urn and she told a fine tale about how Major Trumbo was a big game hunter in Africa and he was gored by a rhinoceros.” She gave them a big smile, only to have it fall off her face. “Oh dear, she’s spotted you, Chief.”

Pippa looked up when the shop door opened and Freddie Sleeman burst in like she’d been shot from a cannon. She did not look happy.

Pippa had more questions for Mrs. Filly, and now this. Freddie Sleeman was all she needed. She forced a smile. “Hello, Ms. Sleeman. How are you this chilly morning?”

Freddie ignored her. “Wilde! What a surprise to see you here of all places.”

“Good morning, Freddie,” Wilde said.

Freddie turned to Pippa, sent her chin up. “What are you doing here? And with Chief Wilde? I thought you’d have left town by now.”

“Nope, still here and we’re puzzle shopping.”

“Puzzle shopping? That’s ridiculous.”

“Good morning, Freddie,” Mrs. Filly said. “How is your mother?”

“Mother? She’s like she always is, spends more time with the downtrodden than she does with her own family.” She turned back to Pippa. “Of course you know my name, everyone knows my name, but I don’t remember yours.”

Mrs. Filly tried, she really did. Pippa appreciated her effort. “And your dear brother? How are he and his sweet family?”

“Sweet? How very nice for us. So, what’s your name? And why are you here?”

“I’m Special Agent Pippa Cinelli, FBI.”

Freddie stared hard at her. “You, FBI? An agent? Are you joking?”

Wilde said, “No, she’s not, Freddie. Actually, Agent Cinelli grew up here in St. Lumis. Are you also here to look at puzzles? We were studying Major Trumbo’s puzzle.”

Freddie spared half a glance at Major Trumbo’s puzzle, shook her head. “That ridiculous old man was disgusting. I hate it that my dad has his puzzle in his study at home.”

Wilde said, “If you didn’t come to buy a puzzle, then why did you come in, Freddie?”

Freddie grabbed up a puzzle of Saint Patrick surrounded by snakes. “Anjolina has a birthday next week. This will do.”

“Anjolina’s too young for this puzzle, Freddie. It would give her nightmares. And isn’t her birthday in March?”

“Anjolina’s age is irrelevant. No puzzle in this store would frighten her. No, her birthday is next week. Gift wrap it, Mrs. Filly.”