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Pippa said, “Mrs. Filly mentioned you had a son, a textile artist who works on a loom. He lives in Baltimore.”
“That’s right. He’s very talented. Baltimore is his home. But he visits me on occasion.” She studied Pippa a moment. “Tell me, Agent Cinelli. Did you bring your gun into my house? Would I have seen your gun if I’d gone searching?”
Her sarcasm made Pippa smile. “No, ma’am. I had my gun with me until the man struck me down and took it, along with my cell phone and my wallet.”
“I don’t suppose you saw the person who struck you?”
Pippa started to say no, but instead, “His face? I tried to do a sketch with Mrs. Trout, but I didn’t see him well enough. I might recognize his voice, though. It’s pretty clear he’s involved with whoever sent the FBI the bizarre Major Trumbo puzzle.”
“Maude told me someone sent that silly puzzle in three parts, in red boxes of all things. Of course, I have an original puzzle here somewhere, but I can’t imagine why anyone would want to do such a thing.”
Pippa said, “Mrs. Trumbo, do you remember meeting a young woman named Marsia Gay, perhaps at the Wilson hotel in Baltimore when you were manager there? Since I don’t have my cell phone, Chief Wilde can call up her photo on his.”
Wilde had no trouble finding a photo of a Marsia Gay and handed his cell to Mrs. Trumbo. Mrs. Trumbo looked at the photo, studied it a moment, then shook her head.
