Deadlock (FBI Thriller #24)(64)

Mrs. Filly took the puzzle. “Agent Cinelli, let me check how many Major Trumbo puzzles are left. I’ve remembered a couple more people, and I’ll make up a short list.” She turned on her heel and was through the door at the back of the shop fast, as if escaping.

Wilde said, “Freddie, have you seen any men around St. Lumis you didn’t recognize?”

“What is this all about?” She pointed a sharp fingernail at Pippa. “If you are an FBI agent, then why are you all over Chief Wilde? It’s unprofessional. And no, I haven’t seen any strange men. What does that have to do with Major Trumbo’s puzzle?”

This young woman, either a born pain in the butt or spoiled to death since the cradle, was the last thing Pippa needed. Pippa didn’t think she’d ever been considered a threat before. If not for everything being at a critical point, she might be amused. But not now.

Pippa said, “Of course you have lots of questions, Ms. Sleeman, but I don’t have time to answer them right now. Tell you what, would you entertain Chief Wilde while I speak to Mrs. Filly?” Pippa turned on her heel and walked toward the back of the shop.

Freddie yelled after her, “You won’t get Wilde, do you hear me? He’ll get tired of you really fast, and you’re not even pretty. That French braid of yours looks ratty, probably because you slept with him last night at his cottage, didn’t you? I know the truth, so don’t lie.”

That brought Pippa up short. She slowly turned back.

Wilde raised a dark brow. “And how do you know Agent Cinelli was at my cottage last night, Freddie?”

“Davie told me.”

Davie Hauck, his night deputy, was normally a clam, but Wilde had heard Davie really liked Freddie Sleeman. He probably tried to impress her by telling her how he’d cruised the chief’s neighborhood, keeping watch for a suspicious character who was after a woman. He said, “Actually, we did spend the night at my house, then went back to Major Trumbo’s B&B for a good breakfast this morning.”

“My father will make sure you’re gone soon enough.” And Freddie gave Wilde nothing short of a steaming look, turned on her heel, and left the shop, slamming the door.

Mrs. Filly came out of her office, holding the wrapped Saint Patrick puzzle in one hand and a piece of paper in the other. She said blankly, “Sorry, I have to admit I waited until I heard her leave. Freddie can be such a trial. You should marry her, Chief, put her out of her—and our—misery. But wait, you’re a good boy, you’d suffer too much. Here’s the list, very short, as you can see. I wonder if I should keep the puzzle wrapped?”

“You should make it a surprise puzzle, charge a dollar more for it,” Pippa said. “Just one more question, Mrs. Filly, and we’ll leave you alone. Have you noticed any strangers around town who’ve stayed on after the Halloween bash at Leveler’s Inn?”

“Of course, but not many, mostly older people and a couple of families, like the one you saw when you came in.” She rolled her eyes.

“How about men who came into your shop? Any strangers you noticed, wondered about?”

Mrs. Filly thought a moment, then shook her head. “I’m sorry, Agent Cinelli, but no. You’re thinking about the man who hit you, aren’t you?”

When Pippa and Chief Wilde left the shop, the weather had turned even colder. Pippa pulled her leather jacket close and carefully pulled on leather gloves over her bandaged hands. She said, “Well, we did learn some interesting history.” She poked his arm. “And Ms. Sleeman certainly enlivened the morning.”

“She always does.” Wilde looked down at his watch. “The sketch artist should be arriving at the station. Let’s go see what you can remember. Oh yeah, your French braid looked ratty last night, not today.”





41


SINACK, MARYLAND

TUESDAY AFTERNOON

Sherlock looked up from her tablet when Savich turned off at the Sinack exit. “Apparently Sinack’s known for its early American antiques and its six white church spires.” She put down her tablet and turned to face him. “Enough about Sinack. Dillon, what I’m really worried about is my Steinway. I called Ian—you remember Mr. Phipps—and he’s coming today to check out how bad the water damage is.” She sighed. “There’s so much we have to do. We haven’t even finished sorting through all our clothes, Dillon. We’ll have to rebuild the kitchen, and once that construction is done, we’ll need all new appliances.” She groaned. “Every time I think about what needs to be done, something new pops up, and the list gets longer. Bless your mom for dealing with the cleanup crew today, but I don’t want her doing too much.”

Savich reached over and took her hand. “I’ve got a surprise for you, Sherlock. It’s a secret weapon. Senator Monroe called this morning when you were in the shower. He gave me the name of a woman here in Washington, Janet Mickelson. She’s a logistics expert. She specializes in the aftermath of home fires, from determining what needs to be replaced to dealing with contractors for any necessary rebuilding, the kitchen in our case. I didn’t know such a person existed. Robert said he didn’t, either, until his home caught fire three years ago, said the logistics expert earned every dime he paid her. And yes, Mickelson will get our approval at every step. She’ll do as much or as little as we want.” He gave her a big smile. “Best thing? She works directly with insurance companies and makes sure they don’t try to slither out of their responsibilities. She gets their approval as she goes along.”