Rohn Federbush - Sally Bianco 02 - The Appropriate Way (11 page)

Two days later, Sally was finally able to tell her mother about the doctor’s diagnosis.

If patience had been a ticket to heaven, Mother would not have needed a priest for a son. She waited for Sally to bring up the wedding disaster. She did prime the pump by expounding on the un-virtuous acts of Kathy Krimm, Tony’s date for Jill’s wedding.

Kathy, it seems, came early to church auctions, picking through the donated jewelry. Kathy pocketed the best pieces and then bought a bag of costume jewelry for a quarter. “She’s a money grubber; I don’t care how fancy she dresses. She’s old enough to be
Tony’s mother.”

Sally opened a line of inquiry as mildly as she could. “Do you think craziness is hereditary?”

“Well, Tony’s mother is -- different.”

“He wasn’t buried in hallowed ground?” Sally realized what the answer would be.

“We can’t be sure he didn’t repent.” Her mother was being unusually charitable. “He died alone.”

“You were right about the hair dye,” Sally said. “Jill won’t be getting out of the mental hospital. Charlie will probably divorce her.”

Sally’s mother pulled a kitchen chair out to sit down next to Sally. “Jill reminds me of a girl I knew when I was little older than you, before I married.”

Sally looked into her coffee cup. Nothing tasted right anymore. She realized she was losing weight.

Mother had continued, when Sally looked up again. “She married a concert violinist. They were Jewish, the family of the guy. I couldn’t very well accept his proposal, so Tyke married him. I visited them once in Bloomington. Their back door entrance was through a wood-latticed porch, covered in morning glories.” Her mother rose and fussed around the sink. “I’ve never been able to grow morning glories either.”

“Mother?” Sally asked, missing the morale of the story.

“Oh.” Mother returned to her chair at the table. “She, Tyke, kept house non-stop. If she offered you a cup of coffee, she’d pick it up and wipe imaginary spills away from under the saucer. They gave birth to one child. Tyke nicknamed him Chicken. The kid was a scrawny, an un-cuddly thing.”

“I don’t get the connection.” Sally realized she spoke the same way her mother did. Books were not the cause of Sally’s miscommunication with her fellows. The problem occurred because she copied the stream-of-consciousness manner of speaking her mother indulged in. “Why are you telling me about Tyke’s baby? Because I was so ugly you couldn’t love me either?”

“I always loved you. When you were little and so sick all the time, you needed more attention than I could give. Now we’re off the farm and I’m freer, you don’t need all my attention.” Jumping back to her story, she said, “Marvin was killed.” As if that explained everything.

Sally sighed ready to give up trying to make any sense of the story.

Stroking her throat, her mother went on with the pointless tale. “Marvin was offered first chair in the New York Symphony. He killed a boy in a car accident.”

Nodding, Sally tried to encourage the end of the story.

“Marvin opened the door and the father of the boy he’d run over, shot him, dead.”

Sally realized her mother’s tragedy. “He’d asked you to marry him.”

“I worked for his parents, cleaning house like you did while you were in high school.”

“Why are you telling me now?”

“Because Tyke reminds me of Jill. They didn’t put Tyke away but she was crazy. It wasn’t hair dye. Without love growing between people, they shouldn’t live under the same roof.”

“Like Jill and Charlie?”

Her mother nodded. “When love is denied, negative elements are pulled toward the void.” She stared quietly at Sally, waiting for her to talk.

“Somehow I think Jill believed she was unlovable, not able to accept
Tony’s affection.” On their first ride to Lincoln, Sally recognized Jill kept herself sealed away from any incrimination from her conscience. “Maybe Art was right. Jill found it easier to lust for money than to search for love.”

The monsters in the dark, unexplored
territory of Jill’s mind grew stronger from the lust and greed she fed on. Love’s light from Tony could have weakened her fears. Instead, they overwhelmed and destroyed her.

Sally wanted a safe world. “You wouldn’t let me marry someone I didn’t love?”

Her mother put her arms around her shoulders, pressing Sally’s head to her amble breast. “No,” she said, adding in a lighter tone. “Art loves to dance.”

Even though Sally loved Art Woods, could he sustain the level of lifetime devotion a commitment of marriage required? They had eaten the Log Cabin restaurant across from the Hotel Baker. The waitress knew them well enough to make sure Sally’s coffee remained hot. Sally consistently left a two-dollar bill under the saucer each time she ate there with Art. The couple sat silently throughout their meal.

The waitress tried to cheer them up. “Hey. Did somebody die, or are you two love birds fighting?”

“Somebody died,” Art growled.

The waitress’ voice dropped an octave. “I’m so sorry. Forgive my big mouth.” With her coffee pot still in her hand, she sat down next to Sally. “One of your parents, and now you’re putting off the wedding. Just elope.”

“Art’s best friend,” Sally swallowed, “killed himself.”

“Over a girl, I bet.” The waitress patted Art’s hand.

Art clenched his jaw muscles. “Well, while we’re telling all. The girl, who married someone else, is now in a mental institution!”

His angry voice blew the waitress out of the booth; but not before she leaned over and whispered to Sally, “Be careful.”

Sally thought she might need to be cautious. Out loud, she repeated
Hawthorne’s passage in the ‘Scarlet Letter’, “The sufferer’s conscience...corrupted his spiritual being.”

Art held his head with his hands. “I hate all women. Maybe only Jill. Most of the girls at school chased money, too.”

“Tony was comfortable. Jill’s father didn’t like his course language.” Sally argued. “And you know they made love.”

“She wanted it! She used him the morning of her wedding”

“Oh, Art! My sister, Loretta, was right.” Art eyes snapped, asking what her sister could possibly reveal. Sally quoted her. “Once you make love you can’t stop.”

“No,” Art said with patient sarcasm. “The fortune of the
Montgomery family is a tenth that of the Reddinger family.”

Properly chastised, Sally said, “Jill didn’t talk about their money.”

Art pounded the table with both fists. “Because your family doesn’t have any!”

Sally commenced to cry. Didn’t Art understand he was trying to get even, to prove Tony right? Sally looked at him again. His actions were tainted with the angry burden of grief. He resembled a wounded, cornered animal fighting for its life, unwilling to look at the heart she held out to him. If she waited long enough, would he come back to her? Choose love, Sally
telepathed to him, choose me.

“I want to go to bed with you,” Art said, as if astonished at his candor.

“I do too.” Sally took off her glasses to wipe away the tears. While she focused with her large myopic eyes, her lashes still wet from crying, she witnessed Art’s heart soften.

He reached for her hand. “It’s okay. I’m sorry I upset you. I think the world of you. I never leave you without feeling better about myself.” He stopped talking, and his head seemed cleared of a degree of agony. “...a better person, Sally.”

She smiled. He didn’t know he loved her. She crooned to him. “All night I could not sleep, because of the moonlight on my bed.”

Art released her hand. “Don’t bring it up.” He ran his hands through his hair as if hoping evil thoughts wouldn’t land on his brain, so soon.”

“It’s only from ‘Chinese Translations’.” She tried again to soothe him.

“Books can’t answer everything. Your head lets words leak out without logical antecedents. I often want to scream at you.” Staring as if hoping to find an answer in the depth of her eyes, he asked, “How long will Tony torment me?” Sally didn’t respond. The waitress re-entered their space, smiling at what she perceived was their happiness. She silently poured Sally a congratulatory cup of hot coffee. Then squeezing Sally’s hand, Art said, “It is as if you were given a sacred mission to defend me against a hostile world, even against myself.”

Sally recognized the quote. “Somewhere in ‘Evocations of Love’.”

“Yes, I’m not all the way through the book.” Art smiled sheepishly.

“Wasn’t it said between brothers?’

“Maybe Tony was my brother. I sure failed to defend him from Jill.”

“We all failed. Mostly, Tony chose to fail himself.”

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Second Wednesday in January

Kane County Sheriff Office

“Did you two find out anything at
Enid’s?” Sheriff Woods asked Tim, when they joined him in his office.

“Probably an international move was planned, or carried out. We should go through
Enid’s belongings, once we locate them.” Tim rubbed his forehead.

“The Stuart Linen Service records could add evidence to our theory,” Sally said. “
Enid was running a house of ill-repute.”

“Evidence for the opportunity for blackmail,” Tim said.

“I’d like to question the butler, too.” Sally ran her finger over the book bindings on Sheriff Woods’ shelves.

“Oh, come on,” Sheriff Woods kidded with her. “You don’t think the butler did it.”

“He knew Tim was no longer Matilda’s lover.” Sally pulled out Sheriff’s Woods’ copy of Robinson Crusoe. “Do you still refer to this book, each day?”

“I do.” Sheriff Woods smiled. “Try it.”

Sally opened the worn copy to the face page to check the publication date. Chicago was the place, but no date survived the printing. so she scanned a page at random. From page 149, she read aloud. “But it is never too late to be wise. …they are proof of the converse of spirits, and a secret commination between those embodied and those unembodied…
.
”

“You think the butler told Bret, you mean?” Tim asked.

“We’ll pick him up,” Sheriff Woods said. “Is John still helping us?”

“I don’t think you will be able to find the butler at the
Armstrongs’ castle,” Sally said. “I suspect he’s long gone. If John Nelson could send us a clue, he would.”

Sheriff Woods set a file folder on the desk for Sally to review. “The fire inspector sent me the arson report for the Masters’ home. I’ll go file a missing person report on the butler.” He left the office.

Sally read parts of the report to Tim, “Mrs. Masters didn’t close the door, when she fled Enid.”

“What about the candle?”

“They found wax droppings. Enid used the candle to set fire, first to the couple’s bedding in the master bedroom, then the tablecloth in the dining room, and finally the couch skirt in front of the fireplace.”

“Did she set fire to herself then?”

Sally read. “At some point the heat in the low rooms and the fires Enid set flashed into the front room.”

“She could have escaped through the open front door.”

Sally shook her head. “The open door added oxygen for the fire.”

“No one else was in the house.” Sheriff Woods said, as he walked back in. “Peter Masters is off the hook.”

“Then why did he keep lying to us about going to Dallas?” Sally asked.

“They did find the ring Geraldine threw in the fireplace.” Sheriff Woods placed a blackened object on his desk. One diamond on the soot encrusted ring winked at them.

Just then, the policewoman Tim gave the task of identifying license plates numbers knocked on the door. “Officer Hanson, Bret Armstrong is the owner of the Cadillac on the list.”

“About Bret,” Sheriff Woods said. “His lawyer has asked for a psych evaluation.”

Sally shied away from the news. She purposefully avoided speaking by finishing her cup of coffee. The hot liquid helped to unclench her throat. “I know John’s death is connected to Enid’s. Whoever harmed Enid, aimed Bret’s gun at my husband.”

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Later that evening, Sally ate supper in the Hotel Baker’s dining room. A table next to the two-story windows provided a wondrous view. White Christmas lights trimmed the small trees lining the bank of the
Fox River. The ice jam near the dam sparkled from the reflections. Changing tints in the city-hall tower across the river added their colors to the winter scene. She didn’t recognize any of the hotel’s other patrons. She left half the food on her plate, when memories of John bringing her a second cup of hot coffee when she was working on her first case overwhelmed her and negated her appetite.

Safely back in her suite of rooms, Sally reminded herself room service was a better option. Three of her suitcases and several storage boxes were dumped in the dining alcove of the hotel room. She recognized Betty’s handiwork. Too tired to unpack her clothes, Sally dragged one of the storage boxes over to the couch.