deal in commercial real estate, as you told me, Pippa, with a reputation for not always being on the up-and-up. Nothing to tie him to the FBI or to me specifically, or to the puzzle yet, but I’ll have MAX do a deeper check on him. Let me know everything you find out from Mrs. Filly about her puzzles tomorrow. MAX will do a search on Mrs. Filly’s relatives and her background and give us more information about Major Trumbo.”
“Dillon, you really believe we’ll get the third red box tomorrow?”
“Yes. I’m betting we’ll see Major Trumbo hanging out of the hotel window.” Savich paused a moment. “Be careful, Pippa. We have no idea yet what we’re dealing with, but this isn’t some bizarre joke.”
She spent the next half hour reading about the people she’d met that day. She was surprised when she discovered Mrs. Joyce Sleeman spent a good deal of her time in Annapolis at a halfway house for mentally disturbed patients newly out of psychiatric prison. She actually owned and operated Felber House, Felber being Mrs. Sleeman’s maiden name. Interesting. Pippa read all about the halfway house, but she couldn’t find a specific reason why Mrs. Joyce Sleeman had opened it. Maybe a disturbed uncle in the family whose life hadn’t ended well? Someone closer?
When she finally fell asleep in the big circular bed, she dreamed everyone in St. Lumis had found out who she was. She was walking down Great Heron Street, and people were shouting she shouldn’t be there, she had lied to them, shame on her. And Mrs. Sleeman was telling her in a gentle voice to come stay at Felber House because that’s where she belonged.
20
MONDAY MORNING
NOVEMBER 2
Her late breakfast of scrambled eggs was a bit on the runny side for Pippa’s taste, a surprise after the perfect scrambled eggs on Sunday. She left the B&B before Maude’s puzzle shop was set to open at noon, per a sign in the window. She was anxious and wanted to explore more of St. Lumis, but still be first at the door to speak to Maude Filly. She had to see Maude again since this would be her last day in St. Lumis before the third red box was due to arrive at the CAU. The puzzle would be complete, and St. Lumis would be quickly identified. The sender would know that, of course, and know to expect the FBI here soon. She would lose any advantage she had of no one knowing who she was.
She strolled west this morning, away from the tourists still left in town, greeting the few locals she saw with smiles and hellos. She ended up on the less gentrified edge of town, where she remembered a small industrial district. She saw three buildings pressed together. They looked like long-abandoned ancient mercantile supply stores.
There was an antique sign hanging at half-mast over the doorway of the nearest building: HOWZELL’S MARBLE TABLES. The front door was gone, so she walked in. She saw broken windows, rusted, partly dismantled machinery, mildewed boxes, and rat carcasses strewn on the floor. She remembered the once-thriving manufacturer had closed its doors long before her family had moved. Why had the building been left in ruin? She did a quick walk-through, winding around the broken old machines scattered across the large space like giant iron ghosts from a former time.
She’d been about to skip looking at the other two buildings when she checked her iWatch and saw she still had time before the puzzle shop opened. She walked out to the second building, which looked ready to collapse in on itself, maybe even more derelict than the first, its wood-planked door barely held up by rusted old nails. She stepped inside and nearly choked on the musty, stale air. There was no sign left to announce what the business had been, but much of the space was divided by rows of ancient metal shelves, a good eight feet high. She saw three cobwebbed jars lined up on one shelf. She wasn’t about to look inside them. A store of some kind, groceries and assorted dry goods probably. She took a cursory look around for anything that shouldn’t be there. What had she expected to find here anyway? She sneezed. Time to head into town. She’d gone out far enough. There was no reason to visit the third building.
She’d turned back toward the battered door when she heard a groan and stopped dead in her tracks. She stood