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36
ST. LUMIS
TUESDAY MORNING
Pippa hugged herself against the cold as she hurried into Major Trumbo’s B&B, Chief Wilde behind her. Mrs. Trumbo was coming out of the dining room with only a small stack of plates in her arms. Most of her Halloween crowd had left St. Lumis.
“Ms. Cinelli! I was worried when you didn’t come down for breakfast. I was going to go up and check on you—” She broke off and stared at Chief Wilde, an eyebrow rising nearly to her hairline. She said slowly, smiling, “But I see if I’d knocked on your door, I wouldn’t have gotten an answer.” She looked at each of them. “Chief, what are you doing here with Ms. Cinelli this early on a chilly Tuesday morning, as if you’re just now bringing her back? You only met on Saturday night, isn’t that right?”
Mrs. Trumbo was teasing them about sleeping together? Talk about fast work. Well, maybe his bed would have been more comfortable than the rock with a thin mattress in his small guest bedroom. “Good morning, Mrs. Trumbo. It’s very kind of you to be concerned about me. You’re right. I didn’t sleep in my beautiful honeymoon suite last night. You see, yesterday someone hit me on the head and tied me up in that old abandoned grocery store on the edge of town. I escaped to the chief’s house.”
Mrs. Trumbo blinked, laughed, and wagged her finger at Pippa. “You’re making that up, Ms. Cinelli. Not that it’s any of my business who you want to play with. Why, I remember my first husband, he—well, that’s not important. No need to spit out a wild story. Someone hit you and tied you up? That wouldn’t be funny, young lady, though I suppose it makes a fine tale.”
“To be totally accurate, he hit me on the head twice, ma’am.”
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.”
