Rohn Federbush - Sally Bianco 02 - The Appropriate Way (12 page)

Ginger raced out of the bedroom nearly knocking her down with his greeting. Then she ran around the room with her nose to the floor. She was searching for John. “Ginger,” Sally called only once.

With her tale between her legs as if she was to blame for losing John, Ginger approached the couch. Sally patted the hotel’s couch. “Never mind, Ginger. We still have each other.”

The dog jumped on the couch and laid her head in Sally’s lap. Sally turned on the television for company and opened the lid of a storage box. A file folder marked with a black felt pen in John’s handwriting, read, “Movers.”

Ginger sniffed the file, apparently not relieved to only smell her master’s presence. Sally held the folder to her face. She could smell John’s cologne, too. His presence surrounded them for a moment. She kept her emotions in check. There was work to be done to find out why her sweet husband was annihilated.

John’s copious notes from telephone conversations were numbered and rated by possibilities. Sally read through the twenty legal-pad pages, before she came to one signified with a number 10. ‘French Flyways’ held Sally’s attention. A signed contract was faxed by the company to John. The signature at the bottom of the contract read, “J. K. Reeves.”

Sally checked her watch. Too late to accomplish anything.
Ten o’clock. Nevertheless, she dialed Sheriff Woods’ home number. “Gabby, I apologize. Could I speak to your husband for a moment?”

“Absolutely. We were watching ‘Law and Order,’ of course.”

“Yeah,” Sheriff Woods said. “Who is this?”

“Sally. Who else owns the balls to call you this late?”

“What do you have?”

“The butler signed
Enid’s moving contract.” Sally tried to keep a triumphant tone out of her voice. “We need a search warrant of the Armstrong castle.”

“Boy, this will crimp their breeches.”

Sally laughed. “And you, Sirrah, have been reading way too many Elizabeth George mysteries.”

“Could be; but I’ll call the Judge
Schonemann tonight. Will you be ready to roll with Tim in the morning?”

“Yes, but,” Sally re-considered the ramifications, “With Tim so, shall we say, intimately involved, perhaps you and I should tackle this one.”

“Tim’s nose would be permanently out of joint. I’ll come along with you two, just to protect you.”

“Great,” Sally said, thinking she didn’t need protection. She needed more answers and quickly, if justice was going to be served in her lifetime.

Second Thursday in January

Hotel Baker, St. Charles

Sally’s mind drifted among the pillows. ‘Safe, Lord,’ she thanked her Maker. ‘Where?’ was her next thought. She fought against the answer: ‘Lost.’

Her pride in the intelligence still granted at her age demanded she sort things out. She straightened her body in the warm sheets and folded her hands over her solar plexus, right hand on top of the sinister left. The Hotel Baker’s walls acknowledged she was still in St. Charles, where she attended high school. The loss of John pressed her down into the hotel’s mattress. Grief was heavier than the thermal blankets. Her mind sought sleep, her spirit denied the oblivion. The rigor of memorized prayers struggled to focus her mind away from the terrors of a future without the steadying influence of her new, but late, husband. “Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy Name.”

She relaxed in the safe routine of chasing the goal of sanity against a backdrop of jumbled thoughts. Would Tim marry the young policewoman in Sheriff Woods’ squad room?

“Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done on earth.” Sally’s toes stroked the soft sheets, when she repeated the word ‘earth,’ as if checking to see if she was still tethered to the mortal realm. “As it is in heaven.”

John surely waited for her in God’s safest place, away from thoughtless criminals ready to snuff out life in a second. “Give us this day our daily
bread and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.”

Of course, she would need to forgive Bret for killing her husband. Maybe not today. Resentments would lead her to drink, if not resolved. “And lead us not into temptation, but
deliver us from evil.” Perhaps vengeance was the only evil in the world. All wars were fought to get even. “For Thine is the kingdom and the power and the glory, now and forever, Amen.”

Without waiting for troublesome realities to present themselves, Sally followed the prayer with St. Francis’ favorite. “God make me a channel of Thy Peace. Where there is hatred, let me sow seeds of love.” Perhaps the Lord could forgive Bret for her.

Did the Montgomerys and Peter Masters hate her for delving into their personal lives? Someone needed to solve the reason for Enid’s mysterious death. Of course, John wasn’t killed by Bret alone. Someone knew Bret well enough to break his heart and cause him to seek a violent remedy.

There was a joke with St. Francis and St. Anthony arguing about who could concentrate better when praying. St. Francis asked St. Anthony to bet his horse. St. Francis claimed he could pray without interrupting the prayer with divergent thoughts. St. Anthony agreed to the bet. So, St. Francis began, “Hail Mary full of grace, the Lord is with Thee. Can I have the saddle, too?”

Sally continued his prayer. “Where there is wrong, let me bring the spirit of forgiveness.” Sally agreed to surround Bret with a cloud of forgiveness, not specifically for any deed, not outright forgiveness, but at least she owned sufficient motivation to find out who triggered Bret’s mad attack.

Forgetting was never an option for cruelty. Sally mulled over her upbringing for a brief moment, which had left her self-image in the pits. Without tapping the source of all love and realizing the Lord found her beautiful in His eyes, her fate and addictions would have predicted a
shorter life. “Thank you, Lord, for today,” she prayed. She was alive still. Supposedly the Lord wasn’t through with her journey on earth.

She scooted to the edge of the bed, sat up and as her feet touched the floor, she asked earnestly, “Help me trust you more, Lord.”

Now where to find more black clothing. For six days she’d worn the traditional grieving color. Her wardrobe did not anticipate widowhood when she packed for the move to St. Charles. She yearned for home, where a closet in her condo’s basement held the clothes she’d worn after Danny Bianco died. Robert Koelz’s death required tapping the source, too. She longed for her books lining the walls in her condo. Ann Arbor awaited her return. Nevertheless, unfinished business loomed in St. Charles.

The emerald green jacket from the Nelson’s New Year’s Day party would serve. If she wore the dark jacket with black slacks and a black turtle neck sweater, the world might recognize her grief. “Where there is discord, let me bring harmony.” Sally concentrated on her unfinished prayers. “Where there is despair, let me bring hope. Where there is doubt, let me bring faith.”

Sheriff Woods and his life with Gabby came to mind. Gabby was a blessing. Sally assumed Gabby demanded little attention from her husband. Perhaps she was content with his presence. And Art, did he find peace? Losing Tony Montgomery left a mark on him. A key part of the young Art Woods was snuffed out when Tony took his own life.

“Where there is darkness, let me bring light.” A tall order, but she was willing to try. “Where there is sadness, let me bring joy.” She thanked the Lord again for being alive and able to think. “Grant that I may seek to comfort, rather than be comforted; to understand, rather than be understood; to love, rather than to be loved.”

She enjoyed the end of the prayer. The relinquishment of the need to feel loved by others was liberating, sane and grounding. Of course, loving others was all she could do to fulfill God’s will. “For it is by forgiving that we are forgiven, by self-forgetting that we find, and by dying that we awaken to eternal life.” What would life after death resemble. Would she see her loved ones?

“The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.” Sally uttered the 23
rd
Psalm as she headed for the shower. “He maketh me to lie down in green pastures.” The Hotel Baker’s plush carpeting was a dark green. “He leadeth me beside the still waters.” A hot shower would relieve some of her morning stiffness. “He restoreth my soul.” As always happened, her ribs seemed to melt away as her soul stretched out to the ends of the earth.

“He
leadeth me in paths of righteousness for His Name’s sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil. For Thou art with me. Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table in the presence of mine enemies. Thou annointest my head with oil. My cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”

She stopped before closing the bathroom door to confront the daylight in the windows facing the
Fox River.

Ginger stuck her nose around the door. “You need a walk, right?” Ginger waged her tail. There was a lot to do. “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change.” John was gone from earth, but she still sensed his love and the pride he showed in winning her as his wife and friend. “The courage to change the things I can.” Whoever masterminded the deaths of John and
Enid needed to be caught and charged, before she returned to Ann Arbor. “And the wisdom to know the difference.” Sally sniggered to herself. Wisdom was the rub. Old age did not guarantee any such accouterment.

“God,” Sally prayed a second AA prayer as she ducked her head under the shower. “I offer myself to You to do with me or build with me what Thou wilt. Save me from the bondage to self.
Grant me victory over my present difficulties so I may be a witness to those I seek to help of Thy power, Thy love and Thy way of life. Help me to do Thy will always.”

Stepping out of the shower, she pulled down the large hotel towel from the rack and faced the morning’s mirror.

♦
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♦
♦
♦

Sally reached Hotel Baker’s dining room at
eight o’clock. Sheriff Woods and Tim were already waiting for her. “My, I’m impressed by you two early birds.”

Tim said the breakfast menu was worth the trip.

Sheriff Woods stood.  “We waited to order.”

Tim pushed in her chair as she sat down, blushing slightly.

“I love company for breakfast.” She reminded herself not to tease Tim about his appetite. A young man needed calories. Her chair faced the doorway to the restaurant. She drew in a sharp breath. For a split second, she thought John stood at the entrance.

Of course, James was the person. When Betty stepped next to him, James placed an arm around her shoulder and then played with Betty’s short hair with his other hand.

‘Lovers’ Sally thought, feeling a sharp pang below her left breast. “Oh,” she tried to muffle a cry from real pain.

“What is it?” Sheriff Woods followed her gaze. “Betty, right?”

Sally nodded. The pain ceased. She fished in her purse for a handkerchief and whisked away a tear, before John’s relatives arrived at the table. The waitress came by and Sheriff Woods, Tim and Sally ordered their breakfasts.

“We ate earlier,” James explained.

The waitress pulled up two more chairs at the small table. “Coffee?”

James waved her away politely. “No, thank you.”

“Sally,” Betty said. “Please come with us to John’s lawyer. He wants to read us the will.”

Sally managed not to break down by concentrating on the snow starting to fall outside the hotel restaurant windows. “I doubt John had time to even consider including me in his will. My finances don’t need any help from his estate.” She smiled at Betty. “Let me know, if you need me for anything.”

James stood up first. Betty was quick to follow; however, she leaned down and whispered in Sally’s ear. “Bless you for getting me out from under my horrid wig.”

Sally took Betty’s hand and held it to her cheek. “Very welcome.”

After they left, Sheriff Woods and Tim minded their coffee. Their posture telegraphed how uneasy they were around a grieving widow. Sally placed her notebook on the table next to her plate which contained a dry and cold ham and cheese omelet. The waitress started to pour coffee into her cold cup. “Could you bring me a fresh cup with a cheese Danish? Thank you. You can take away my plate, too.”

“Still can’t abide lukewarm coffee,” Sheriff Woods said.

Tim tilted his head, indicating he needed enlightenment.

Sally explained, “We dated in high-school, before I moved to
Michigan.”

Sheriff Woods said, “I can’t stop thinking about Tony Montgomery.”

“I keep playing those bad tapes, too.”

“Relevant to the case?” Tim tried to keep up with references in their shared history.

“I don’t know,” Sheriff Woods said. “Sally, remember Kathy Krimm.”

“
Enid’s mother?” Tim asked.

“There’s your connection,” Sally said. “Tony brought a prostitute to Jill’s wedding reception.”

“Was that the only date he could get?” Tim was foolish enough to ask.

Both Sheriff Woods and Sally glared at him. Sally said quietly. “Tony was a beautiful young man, just tortured beyond belief.”

“Would Tony’s father try to get even for his suicide with Kathy’s daughter, at this late date?” Tim asked.

Sally dismissed the idea. “Kathy wasn’t the problem. Jill
Wisnewski-Reddinger was the villain. And she paid the price.”

“How?” Tim asked.

“A lifetime of suffering,” Sheriff Woods said.

Sally understood he included himself in that sentence of pain. She turned the pages in her notebook to change the subject away from Tony. She penciled in Tim’s red herring about
Tony’s parents’ motivation. Sheriff Woods sat on her right and leaned over to try to read her notations. “Should I read my notes aloud?” Both men nodded, so Sally listed her clues: “Number one, January 1
st
, John says Tim Hanson knows something that needs investigating. Solved.”

“I was suspicious of
Enid. She was always asking questions about Peter Masters, Matilda’s father. Of course, you probably noticed how guilty I am about Matilda, too.”

Sheriff Woods said, “Remember Geraldine Masters said
Enid Krimm recited a list of dates her husband was out of town as the basis for her claim of an affair.”

“Peter denied it,” Tim said.

“In front of his daughter, Matilda.” Sally recalled for them. “But who called his cell phone when he was in the interrogation room. I don’t believe it was his wife’s lawyer. Geraldine never hired a lawyer. Matilda and I spoke to her. Supposedly, Geraldine went to Matilda’s grand-mother’s home in Dallas to get away from her husband.”

“Nevertheless,” Tim said. “They’re both at the
Montgomerys’.”

“With their daughter,” Sally added. “People do strange things for their children.”

“What else do you have listed in there?” Sheriff Woods asked.

“Number two,” Sally read. “January 2
nd
, Where is Peter Master’s boarding passes to Dallas?” She looked up from the notebook. “Why is he still lying to us? Where was he during the fire? Unsolved.”

Sheriff Woods said, “When we are through searching Dunham Castle, we’ll get an answer from him or take him into custody for withholding evidence.”

Sally nodded in agreement. “Number three and four of January 2
nd
, we already solved. The candlestick was used by Enid, and she was the dead woman, not Geraldine. I should include clue number five and six as solved, also. Geraldine’s ring was where Peter said she threw it on New Year’s Eve. And Tim explained how he injured Bret accidentally.”