He shrugs. “Who knows? I think Ms. Bayer shops at the surplus store. She must’ve bought too many jars.”
“Oh,” I say, realizing that I must be overthinking the nickname. “I thought that maybe it had something to do with what she called you.”
“What’s that?”
“She called you Mr. Pickles,” I remind him.
“Did she?”
There’s something about the way he asks the question that gives me pause. He says it with an air of nonchalance that makes me think he’s hoping I’ll drop the subject. Maybe I’m reading too much into it.
I tug the corners of my lips up into a smile. “Yes.”
“Oh. Well, huh. Kids say the funniest things sometimes.”
I look over my shoulder at the mailboxes. “I left another letter on top of the mailboxes last night. You didn’t happen to see who took it, did you?”
He shrugs. “Sorry. I didn’t see anything there this morning.”
“And you haven’t seen anyone strange coming into the building?”
“No one who’s been hanging around the mailboxes.”
The front door swings open before I can ask anything else, and Caitlin pokes her head in. “Gnome! Your friend is here.”
I look out the window and spot Anne’s car parked at the curb. I head outside and get in. She’s blasting music so loudly that I can’t hear my own thoughts. I turn off the radio.
“I didn’t get a new letter from Luca.”
“Did you write what we talked about?”
“Yes.”
After work yesterday, Anne and I had stopped at the café for lunch and went over how I should approach meeting Luca in person. I kept the letter straight and to the point. I told him that I wanted to meet him in a public place, and that I didn’t want him to expect anything more from me.
“The letter was gone this morning,” I continue. “So he’s been in the building sometime between then and now.”
“But nothing new from him.”
“No.” I chew on my lip, considering whether I should bring up whatever else is on my mind. “Hey, do you remember when we went to Georgia and met that guy who knew Luca?”
“Maxwell. He was cute.”
“Of course you would think so. Do you remember what he called Luca?”
She twists her lip as she thinks about it. “Pickles, right? Because his last name is Pichler.”
“That’s what Caitlin calls Joel. Pickles. Well, Mr. Pickles, but still.”
“Who? And who?”
“Caitlin is Caterpillar Kid’s name. And Joel is the security guard. I’ve told you about him.”
“You think that Joel could be Luca?”
“No. He’s the wrong age. But he’s at that desk pretty much all day, and he doesn’t seem to notice whoever is coming in and taking my letters and sticking things in my mailbox.”
“Maybe Luca is the mailman.”
