Restore My Heart (23 page)

“What about it?”

“Barbara says you’re growing that side of the business. Mom hasn’t really gotten involved with it yet, but I need to bring her up to speed.”

“Actually, that side of the business is going great. We’ve brokered a fair number of high price deals lately.”

“Really? Sally Clay says her restoration business with Bloom Desalvo has declined, so I’d wondered.”

Vic shrugged. “Haven’t needed much restoration work. Like I told you last week, we’re getting some great finds since we hooked up with Dan Alsop.”

“So you said. How well do you know Dan?”

“Never heard of him before, but Barb met him in night school. She’s the one introduced us, but Leo wanted to hire him.”

“That’s what puzzles me. Why? Dad loved that part of the business.”

“I know, I know.” Vic lit up a smoke. “All I can say is your dad was winding down. He’d started wanting more time off, more time with the grandchild. I think he was looking to retire early, at least that was my impression before—”

An awkward silence hung between them. Joe knew what Vic had been about to say.
Before Leo blew his brains out
. Vic coughed.

“That’s all right, Vic. I’m just trying to get a feel for where Mom fits in now.”

“She’s the office manager. You were right about her, you know?”

“You mean about being ready to come to work?”

“I mean about having the management skills. She’s an asset already, Joey. Even taking time off to see about her mother in the hospital, she’s been handling business.”

“That’s great.”

“We like having her around. Barb says she’s a real help.”

“What about Dan Alsop? Is he worth his price?”

“Dan ain’t salaried.” Vic’s cigarette hung from his mouth. “He works strictly off commission. We’re lucky he hooked up with us.”

“No complaints on any of his deals?” Joe slid the question in casually, watching Vic’s face for a reaction.

A trace of irritation flickered, just a hint of discomfiture. Joe would’ve missed the tightening around the mouth if he hadn’t been studying Vic’s face. The man quickly recovered his poise, but Joe had struck a nerve. He knew it.

“Heck, no. Only praise for the man. I just hooked him up with a lady who’d been searching for a Packard. She’s happy with the deal.”

“Ellen Kennedy?”

“How’d you—”

“Barbara said she’d been working with my dad.”

This time, Vic failed to mask his discomposure. “She had no business telling you about that.”

“About what, Vic?” Joe leaned into Vic’s desk, crowding his space. “I need to know the truth.”

“We may never know the truth.” Vic shook his head, stubbed out his cigarette, then sighed. “The Kennedy woman wouldn’t leave Leo alone. She insisted on speaking only with him when she dropped in, which was frequent. Sometimes—sometimes she’d still be here when we locked up for the night.”

“So you think they were having an affair?” Joe forced the words.

“I don’t know. She sure had a thing for him. Anybody could see that.” Vic shook his head. “Leo never had eyes for any woman but Lucinda. I figured it was a one-sided crush until—”

“Until Dad’s suicide,” Joe finished.

Bleakness filled Vic’s eyes. “Yeah.”

“And you and Barbara think that guilt over infidelity led my father to put a gun in his mouth?”

“If I thought that,” Vic paused to stick another cigarette between his lips. “I’d personally strangle the Kennedy woman.”

Sally arrived at Mustang Sally’s later that morning.

“Thanks for opening up, Dad. I mean,
Justin.”

“No problem.” Justin rolled his mechanic’s creeper from beneath the Chrysler 300. “You’re all gussied up.”

“I’m going to the Fillies’ Derby Ball tonight.”

“Desalvo takin’ ya?”

“Yes. Joe’s grandmother is a Filly. Which reminds me, I’ll be leaving a bit early today, too. Hope you don’t mind closing again.”

Justin gave her a quick nod. “No problem. What time is he picking you up?”

“Six-thirty.”

“I’ll be home before you leave.”

With that, he disappeared beneath the vintage Chrysler, leaving Sally flabbergasted. He’d acted almost—
interested
. Like a
father
. With his monotone and expressionless features, though, who could tell?

Sally gave in to a smile as she limped toward the office. She grabbed nitrile gloves from the dispenser in the counter to protect her manicure, a concession she’d made to Laquita. She’d vetoed fake acrylic nails, though. No way the proprietor of Mustang Sally’s would be caught wearing those long claws. Besides, how could she reach inside a carburetor? Working today wearing gloves would be awkward enough, but at least her nails looked uniform. And clean. And very fuchsia.

She had no idea what finishing touches Monette and Jennifer had in store for her. For so long the tomboy, Sally had done little primping in her life. After the accident, her appearance had mattered even less. She focused on her health, fitness, and skills as a mechanic. It surprised her now, at age twenty-seven, to discover the fun side of primping.

Settling behind her desk, she pulled open the tummy drawer, rummaging for the flyer with Special Agent Ferguson’s phone number. She’d been procrastinating enough. Swallowing, she picked up the receiver. In deference to her manicure, she punched out the numbers with the eraser end of her mechanical pencil.

Sally identified herself and brought the special agent up to date, including the suspicious contents of Dan Alsop’s garage.

“Ma’am, you’ve been a big help, but drop your amateur investigation at once. I can’t allow you to put yourself at risk.”

“Can you get a search warrant for Dan Alsop?”

“Are you willing to offer expert testimony that an automobile he brokered had been misrepresented?”

“Yes, sir, I am. I’ll cooperate any way I can. I don’t know if Alsop’s the killer. But somebody killed Roy Bishop in my place of business for the photos I took for you of the Darrin’s engine.”

“You don’t know that for sure.”

“Yes, I do. I just can’t prove it.” She held up her gloved hand, as if Ferguson could see the gesture. “I know. You have to have evidence. Well, we still have the Darrin.”

“Where?”

“Joe Desalvo has it hidden in the next county in a horse barn.”

“Did you see it there? Or are you taking Desalvo’s word for it?”

Sally bristled, biting back a retort. She’d gotten to know the Desalvos. Special Agent Ferguson hadn’t. “I have no reason to doubt him. He’s been shot at, remember, and his grandmother wounded. I don’t think he’s your suspect.”

“Everyone connected with Bloom Desalvo Motors is a suspect. We’ve had another report of fraud in Tennessee. The car was purchased from Vic Bloom.”

“I see. Well, if you’re finished with me, I’ll quit snooping around.” Sally knew she was lying. She saw no other recourse, however. The FBI took longer to build cases than the locals.

“This case is far from over, Miss Clay. I’m just saying stay out of danger. We’re paid to take the risks, not you. I appreciate all the information you’ve given us. I’m making the arrangements now to come to Louisville.”

“Good. When?”

“Monday. Thanks for your help. We’ll be in contact.”

Sally wasn’t sure what to tell Joe. If the FBI didn’t need her to snoop anymore, but Joe did, how could she sit and wait until Monday? She doubted the killer would back off until the posse arrived.

“Eeooow!” Sally yelled.

“You big baby. Haven’t you ever had your brows shaped before?” Jennifer murmured.

“Is that what you’re doing? I thought for sure it was the latest in terrorist tortures.”

Monette giggled. “I’ll be right back. What size did you say to get, Sally?”

Monette was doing the underwire shopping at the nearby discount store. “Thirty-four B.”

“You don’t look thirty-four. Must be your workouts.”

“Yeah. It’s all in my back, believe me.”

“Hey, that’s cool. Wait until you see what a pushup bra can do.”

Jennifer yanked another eyebrow hair with the tweezers. “Ouch! Did she say push-up bra? Wait!”

“She’s gone. Don’t worry. We have a method to our madness.”

“You’ll need a lot of method to turn this ugly duckling into a swan, Jennifer. But thanks for trying. Yeeeoooow!”

“Sorry.” Jennifer frowned in concentration as she came at Sally again with the tweezers. “Brace yourself.”

“How many more of these do you have to pluck?”

“Several. I’ve been dying to get at your eyebrows since I met you. Shaped right, they can really accent your beautiful eyes. But thick and hairy, they detract.”

Sally chuckled. “That was tactful.”

“We don’t have time for tact. As soon as we’re finished, you need to soak in a bubble bath and rub scented lotion
everywhere.”

“I don’t have any bubble—”

“Ta da!” Jennifer pulled a bath set from her tote. “I brought mine. Hope you don’t mind a hint of roses. It’s subtle, but alluring. You can keep it. I have more.”

“You two have thought of everything. How can I ever repay you?”

“Just knock him dead tonight, Sally. We all really want this for you.”

An hour later, showered and freshly scented, Sally slipped into her Wonderbra. It wasn’t the foam-laden pushup contraption she’d feared. With just a hint of padding and underwire, the Chantilly lace and satin trim made her feel feminine and curvy.

She called her friends back to her bedroom. “I have boobs!”

Both women nodded. Jennifer said, “See? It pushes what you have into a nice package.”

“Okay, I’m ready to try on the dress.”

“I brought needle, thread, and safety pins, just in case.”

Together, Monette and Jennifer dropped the dress over Sally’s shoulders, letting it settle against her enhanced bosom. Monette pronounced it “just a tad loose,” pinning a tuck under each arm. They lifted the dress, taking care not to touch the hair, then draped it across the bed. Monette busied herself with alterations, while Jennifer opened her makeup kit.

“Now for the war paint.”

“Please, keep it subtle.”

“Not a chance. You can be vibrant and still look classy, Sal,” Monette explained, while biting off a piece of thread.

“She’s right. A splash of color doesn’t cheapen the look. Besides a Wonderbra, you also paid for a tube of moisture-rich, collagen-enriched Uptown Fuchsia lip color, complete with SPF 12,” Jennifer read from the package. “Also a bottle of foundation to smooth over your scraped chin.”

“Sal said you fell. What happened?” Monette asked.

Sally didn’t want to spoil the evening by thinking about the hit-and-run attempt. “It’s a long story, but Joe tackled me.”

This earned her whoops and chiding from her friends, especially when Sally didn’t elaborate. Then Jennifer made her hold still for the rest of her makeup job, sparing her from further explanation.

Monette looked up from the bed, where she stitched the dress. “You don’t need any mascara or eyeliner, girlfriend. I hate you for those eyes, by the way.”

“But we’re rubbing pale aqua over your lids, with a darker aqua at the orbital bone. That’ll highlight your natural dark lashes.”

“Trust us,” Monette added.

The second fitting of the dress worked. “This looks so pretty,” was all Sally could manage to say. The skirt brushed the floor, as she was a couple of inches shorter than Monette, completely hiding her scarred leg. “That’s perfect, actually. It’ll hide my slippers and won’t broadcast that I can’t wear high heels.”

“It is perfect. But we’ve got to run.”

Jennifer checked her watch. “We’re running late, although Sal promised to cover for us.”

Sally smiled, then hugged her two friends. “It’s the least he could do since you’re going to so much trouble for his niece.”

“Be sure to buy one of those photographs so Sal can see the end result,” Monette added as they scurried toward the door. Sally followed the two women and watched as they squeezed past the garage on their way to the alley, passing her dad on his way in. Sally’s breath caught. He had made it home before she left. Without getting her hopes too high, she pulled open the door and waited.

Her father stepped through the door and froze. “My God, Sally. You look—beautiful.”