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?It was actually a harmless question, but once again I turned beet-red.
?“Uh—sure,” was my pithy reply.
?She smiled broadly. “You are so cute—the way everything embarrasses you.”
?“You’re one to talk,” I challenged. “You’ve blushed at half the things I’ve said.”
?She turned away and set her jaw. “I guess we have something in common!”
?We grabbed some sandwiches at a nearby deli, as well as a bottle of wine, and made our way to the condo.
?As we rode up in the elevator laden with packages, Sheryl’s phone went off with some exotic ringtone.
?She maneuvered a few bags and extracted it.
?“Hello,” she said and began to nod. “Really? Can you email it to me? That’s great. I owe you big time.”
?She shut off the phone just as the elevator arrived on my floor and the door opened.
?“That was Sylvia,” she began as I brought out my keys and unlocked the door. “She’s finished decoding those files.”
?“That was fast,” I said as we walked in and began to put things down. “Does she have any idea what they are?”
?“She told me it’s some kind of spreadsheet.”
?I went to the kitchen and located a corkscrew for the wine
as Sheryl took food out of her bags. Then she walked into my bedroom and came out with her suitcase.
?“Where did you get that?” I chuckled.
?“Last night I came directly from the hotel,” Sheryl explained. “So I brought it with me. At least this way I have some clothing choices, as well as my toothbrush.”
?“That reminds me,” I said, and with the bottle of wine in my hand, I went into the bedroom and quickly returned with my passport.
?“I have to give this to Uncle—I mean, Mr. DeSoto.”
?I placed it on the table in plain sight so I would remember it.
?“I’ll make sure he gets it if you don’t,” Sheryl offered.
?“By the way, what did you do with that shell casing? DeStadler didn’t mention it, so I am under the impression it wasn’t found.”
?“Oh, that! Did you ever read The Purloined Letter?”
?“Edgar Allan Poe, sure. Oh! You hid the casing in plain sight?” I concluded and peered around the room.
?With a smile, Sheryl stood, walked over to my one wall of built-in bookcases, and extracted a specific book. She reached into the empty space behind the book and extracted the shell casing.
?“How did you remember which book?” I wondered.
?“Simple,” she smirked, and handed me the volume. It was the complete works of Edgar Allan Poe.
?“Brilliant, Homes,” I smirked, and handed it back to her.
?“Elementary, Watkins.” She returned the casing and the book to their previous positions.
?I started to remove the seal on the bottle of wine. “So Sylvia is sending you the information from the flash drive. Could it be those accounts we speculated about?”
