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?We sat and pondered, as Sheryl scribbled away. Suddenly, I wished I smoked to have something to do with my hands. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the smaller pipe John Stewart had given me. I turned it over in my hand as I thought about our conclusions. I don’t know why he recommended I oil it. The finish on it appeared quite fine and the wood glowed in the morning light from the windows. “But what would he have been looking for? If he’d already transferred the money—”
?At that moment, as if on cue, my cell phone rang.
?“Probably the police,” I said with a sigh. “Calling to let me know I’m about to be arrested again.”
?“Mark, try to keep a positive outlook.”
?“Very well. I’m positive I’m going back to jail.” I activated the phone. “Hello?”
?“Mr. Watson?” came a male voice I couldn’t place.
?“Wat-KINS, yes,” I said.
?“Sorry. It’s Joe, the sound man from the conference.”
?“Oh yes!” I cheered up. “What can I do for you, Joe?”
?“We finished up the speeches in the main ballroom and have been loading things out. On my last walk-through, I found that pipe you were looking for.”
?My mouth went dry. “The…pipe?” I repeated and for some reason held up the smaller pipe in my hand.
?“Yes, it must’ve fallen off the shelf and was down in the bottom of the podium behind some wires. I was removing the wires or I would never have seen it. I am about to go. You want me to leave it at the front desk?”
?“Are you sure it’s my pipe?” I said and stood.
?“Looks like it. Who else would have left a pipe here on the podium?”
?I covered the mouthpiece. “He found my pipe!”
?Sheryl gazed at me in surprise, but then a look came over her face—almost idyllic, as if she’d learned a great secret.
?“I guess you could leave it at the front desk,” I said.
?“No, Mark,” Sheryl insisted vehemently and drew close. “We must pick it up at once, and he must tell no one.”
?I spoke into the phone. “I’ll come right down and pick it up. Can you give me ten minutes?”
?“I’m only here for a half day.”
?“I’ll hurry. And do me a favor. Don’t tell anyone you found that pipe.”
?“Sure. See you soon.”
?I hung up the phone and looked at Sheryl. She was writing up a storm in that little notebook.
?“I don’t get it,” I wondered. “The police said they found a pipe with my fingerprints at Randall’s apartment. I always thought it was—”
?“If this is the pipe you had at the speech, the one in police custody must be Norm Blake’s,” Sheryl decided, as she hid her notebook and grabbed a light jacket. “It’s the only other pipe that had your fingerprints on it. Another part of the puzzle.”
?It was indeed a puzzle. For the life of me, I could not make any sense of the pieces.
24. Gray Literature
Sheryl Homes
?We grabbed a cab uptown to the Hilton and got there in less than ten minutes.
?The hotel was insanely busy now that the conference had moved into “weekend” mode. There were a lot more people—with so many in costume it looked more like Comic-Con.
