was waitressing in the Village in New York when she found me. She always paid me well—I mean, she pays me well. I refuse to believe she’s dead. I’ve always admired her for how well she put on a show. She laughed when I called it performance art.”
Savich asked her to wait outside for the FBI forensic team while he and Sherlock went upstairs to search Zoltan’s office. There were drawers of meticulous files on her clients going back more than a decade, their personal histories, their likes, their dislikes, their relationships with both the living and the dead, but there was nothing they could find on Rebekah Manvers.
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,