I made the reexamination . . . but it was all labor lost, as I knew it would be.
—Edgar Allan Poe, “The Purloined Letter”
THE “SOMEONE” I needed to check on was Fiona Finch. I wanted to know how she was doing, given the shocking events of today, and I secretly hoped for good news about Norma. Had she finally turned up with a logical explanation? Or had more jewels been discovered—somewhere other than the maid’s cart?
I didn’t think my innocent phone call would trigger tribulation. I was wrong. I barely got out my first question before Fiona began to wail—
“Oh, Pen, Norma is still missing! And I have no idea where she went. I really don’t! I wasn’t lying to Eddie, and I wasn’t trying to mislead the state police, even though they don’t believe me, either.”
“Fiona, slow down. What are you talking about?”
“The Post-it note with the address written on it. The address of Norma’s sister. I told Eddie I couldn’t find it, and I still can’t. It just . . . vanished.”
“Please calm down. Take a breath,” I said, in a tone I hoped would soothe her frazzled nerves. She sounded near hysterical. “So Norma still hasn’t shown up or called?”
“No such luck. The state police searched her room for some clue about her sister’s identity or address or another place she may have gone, but I don’t think they found anything.”
“Sounds like they were trying to be thorough.”
“You don’t know the half of it, Pen. They grilled me mercilessly, as if I were the accused. First they gave me a hard time because I didn’t do a background check on Norma when I first hired her. Then they kept hammering me about the address until I felt like a fool.” Fiona sighed heavily. “I couldn’t even remember Norma’s sister’s name, never mind the address. I only recalled that the woman lived in Millstone.”
“And you’re sure you had it written down on a Post-it note?”
“A yellow one,” Fiona replied. “It was stuck to the side of the computer monitor forever. Now when I finally need it, the thing is gone. The state police made me clear the whole reservation desk and empty all the drawers. They even looked under the throw rug and through the trash, but it was a complete waste of time. The note had vanished into thin air, like a nasty trickster ghost!”
Nasty ghost! Jack took offense. Mother Machree, all this fuss over a lost letter?
Not a letter, Jack, a Post-it note.
A postal note IS a letter!
I gritted my teeth. Who’s on first?
Back to vaudeville, are we?
Quiet, Jack!
While the ghost and I silently debated the difference between a trademarked sticky note and a postal letter, Fiona continued fretting in my ear about the state police visit, and I felt for her. Her tone carried so much anxiety, I worried she’d have a stroke. Then, after a pause, she seemed to recover. Lowering her voice, she confided something strange.
“I haven’t said a word about this to anyone, Pen, certainly not to the police—but the note disappearing like that . . . Well, it makes me wonder.”
“Wonder what, exactly?”
Fiona’s voice dropped again, nearly to a whisper. “For half an hour this morning, Norma worked the front desk.”
“Does she usually do that?”
“No, never. But the gas man came to inspect the inn’s heating system and Barney was in the basement. I had to go to Chez Finch because of a problem with a delivery. So, before Norma went off to clean the rooms, I asked her to sit at the desk and cover the phones.”
“Then you think . . .”
My voice trailed off and the conversation died for a moment. Finally, Fiona herself broke the silence.
“I think Norma took that note with her.”