Rohn Federbush - Sally Bianco 03 - The Recorder's Way (8 page)

Helen seemed to be moving in
to the chair in slow motion. Max’s natural tendency to assist the weaker sex triggered his sexual response to her lithe body. His next thought was for his lost dream. Maybell’s presence made a room glow with an unnatural brilliance. He grumbled to his soul. Fool, the whole set-up was a trap. You were the only one under any delusions of love.
But, Max congratulated himself for his new self-honesty. He was not in love with Helen. He liked her, but she was not the girl he wanted as a life-mate.

Helen looked up at him and he stepped away. Women and their eyes. He
len’s were dark for such a towhead. Dark and mysterious. Max returned to the commanding position of his tall-backed desk chair.

“You’re right.” Helen rose. “We need to view the scene.”

Andrew was still seated. “You two go ahead. I’ve known Sally for too long. I need to call her friends. I’ll wait for the funeral.”

’
Max followed Helen out of the office. “Should you wait a day before scheduling the funeral?” He spoke to Andrew over his shoulder, not wanting to lose sight of Helen. “Doesn’t an autopsy take a couple days?”

“…rain a grievous hail and fire ran along the ground…barley and flax destroyed.

Wheat and rye were not smitten because they were not grown up.”

The Egyptian Plagues

First Thursday
in May, 2008

Waterloo

Helen eased herself out of Max’s yellow Mustang. He had parked next to the ambulance at Portage Lake. A black and white State vehicle, a ranger’s green car, and the county sheriff’s police car were lined up along the boat launch. A perfect Michigan sky with a fresh breeze off the placid lake denied the quiet wooded area could be the scene of a vicious crime. Helen held onto Max’s shirtsleeve. Learning that someone she knew personally was the victim of a crime was devastating. She wanted to keep her wits sharp to catch the perpetrator. Helen released her partner’s sleeve. Max rubbed his arm and looked down at her sympathetically, as if ready to excuse her from their appointed task. “I can do this.” She meant to reassure Max, but found the words helped her, too. She silently prayed, with God’s help.

The
attendant opened the back door of the ambulance. Helen prayed again for strength and climbed in, next to the body bag. When she turned towards Max, she was surprised to see he was dealing with deep emotions, too.

♦
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Day of the Crime
First Sunday in May, 2008

Waterloo

“Never enough time.” With the smell of spring in the air, Sally’s last words flew out of her shattered brain as her skull crashed against the rocks at the bottom of Portage Lake’s thirty-foot cliff. Her eyes beheld the blue sky’s portal to her afterlife.

♦
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♦

First Thursday in May
, 2008

Waterloo

Max was knocked for a loop when Helen stepped into the ambulance van. Her black skirt hiked up dangerously close to her bottom, high enough for him to receive a jolt of raw lust. God, deliver us from evil.
He was not ashamed of praying. He could see Helen was wondering what kept him from climbing in behind her. Max commanded himself to pull his act together. He donned his inspection gloves.

Helen
unzipped the body bag and leaned back from the shock and fishy odor. The victim’s face, Sally Bianco’s face, was chalk white and bloated. Sally’s throat was torn out from her neck.

“
Do we need to check her hands?” Max pulled the zipper down far enough to lift out Sally’s right hand. The fingers were locked in a fist.

The attendant
leaned forward. “Rigor mortis.”

“I’ve seen
this before, in the war?” Max kept his voice steady, as he pried Sally’s fingers open. In the ball of her hand was a clump of wet hair. He removed the hair and bagged the evidence. “Could you give this to the state trooper in charge of the scene?”

The attendant nodded
, as he watched Helen examine Sally’s left hand. “She hung onto somebody,” the kid sighed, accepting an identical offering of evidence from Helen.

“Could a dog do this?” Helen climbed out of the ambulance
, with Max’s help.

“
You wouldn’t believe how my army unit’s attack dogs could make a mess of a man.”

“Ma
ybe rabies?”

“
Wouldn’t Mother Superior have noticed if anything was wrong with Marilyn’s dog? Can you remind me to call the Sister about Mrs. Bianco?” Max walked over to the state trooper to ask about Sally’s Honda.

As he stepped back after
receiving an unenlightened answer, he almost knocked Helen to the ground. “Sorry.” He caught her and let go of her as soon as she seemed steady. At least he managed to control his reactions to her closeness.

“I heard the trooper say there was an all points bulletin out for the car since Tuesday.” H
elen walked beside Max back to his car. “No witnesses. The dog would have been a mess.”

“
They think Mrs. Bianco was attacked up there.” Max pointed through a stand of oaks to a hill of trees surrounding that section of the lake.

“And pushed over the cliff
? Did the dog fall with her, or let go?”

“They haven’t found
the dog, yet.” Max noticed Helen was asking more questions than he was. “We may never know what really happened.”

Max drove
his convertible slowly back to Ann Arbor on Seymour Road to Pierce Road. He chose I-94 to drive into town. He couldn’t control the workings of his mind. The questions about the death of his own parents would always remain unanswered.

Maybe that
was why every word out of his mouth seemed to end in a question. If he could be sure of how they died. Did his mother suffer long when his father was strangling her? Did she weep for their lost love as he was killing her? Is that why he shot and killed himself? Was it remorse? Did God accept both their souls? Would he see them in eternity? Could he trust God enough to let go of his questioning nature?

He wondered how his state of insecurity, his
unsureness affected those around him. He promised to try to state only declarative sentences.

Helen was sitting next to him quietly lost in her own thoughts
, probably of the recent horror of seeing Mrs. Bianco’s body.

Max
wanted to comfort her, reassure her of his devotion to duty as her partner in the detective agency. “We need to work on Mrs. Bianco’s case.” He sounded like a repetitive parrot. “The evidence will tell us where Marilyn Helms can be found.”

Helen
rubbed her temples with her fingertips. “We didn’t say we wouldn’t take cases with deadly dogs.”

Max stifled a laugh.
“No, we didn’t.”

“It’s a good thing people pay us outrageous retainers. No one will
fund our work to find Sally’s murderer.”

“But it will be our priority.”

“It will.” Helen patted his shoulder.

Max was sure she wasn’t aware of
the effect her touch produced in his unprincipled body.

♦
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First Thursday
in May, 2008

Costello
Home

Max wasn’t hungry, but he accepted Helen’s invitation to share an evening meal with her family. He told himself they needed to r
eview the case, but he was more interested in staying close to Helen until he could talk himself out of his attraction to her. Good business ethics demanded he
not
get involved with his partner, didn’t they?

The garage door was open
. Max followed Helen. She opened the door from the attached garage into the house. The kitchen aroma of cabbages and onions cooking in tomatoes sent him back to memories of his Aunt Rose’s home. Max didn’t want to think of his mother’s family, or his father. He blamed most of his foolishness and stupidity on his dad’s side of the family. After the drunken tragedy, his mother’s sister provided refuge from the age of thirteen until he was sixteen.

She
had signed the agreement that allowed him to join the Army. That’s how he escaped the mess in Bloomington, Illinois. Half the people in town were afraid of him because of his violent father. The other half couldn’t treat him like a normal kid because of their pity over the loss of his mother. He had been embarrassed, even felt guilty when he was lucky enough to find something to laugh about. Orphans were not supposed to laugh.

“Smells great.” Max touched Mrs. Costello’s shoulder.

She jumped a bit and blushed at her foolishness. “Max, Max. We never see you anymore. Now that you finished your degrees, you’re both so busy at The Firm.”

Max hugged her plum
p figure, thankful for her welcome.

Andrew
came into the kitchen from the dining room. “Grab some plates from the cupboard. And, let go of my wife. We’re about to sit down.”

Helen had shed her suit jacket. Her silk blouse enhanced her full figure.
Max’s throat tightened, but he managed to say, “I don’t think I’m hungry after our Portage Lake trip.”

Helen nodded.
When they were seated, Andrew said grace.

The dining-room windows faced the back garden of the house. Lilacs, apple blossoms, and
redbud trees surrounded the lawn. Max relaxed. He thanked his Maker for the abounding beauty set before him. The soup was great. The bread seemed homemade. The carrots, potatoes, turnips and parsnips from the pot roast were spread out in separate serving dishes. Max noticed his hunger returned with each bite. He smiled at Helen. “Was I lying about not being hungry?”

“
Julia’s cooking always does that to me.” Andrew lifted his water glass. “A toast, to the best cook in Ann Arbor.”

“
Andrew, stop that.” Mrs. Costello blushed, but Max could see she was pleased. “Max might not enjoy my strawberry-rhubarb pie.”

Max groaned. “
Isn’t that an unfair advantage? Shouldn’t I know the menu, before I overindulge?”

“You’ll find room.” Helen nudged his shoulder as she took away his plate.

In response, Max almost reached out to grab Helen’s leg, but stopped himself in time. That was all Andrew needed at his family’s table, a letch for a guest. Max changed the subject to give his out-of-control body a break. “If we give the police our evidence for one doctor, the other might escape.”

“I thought
Sally Bianco said three doctors were involved.” Andrew stirred his coffee.

“Mother Superior said Marilyn was upset because one of the doctors
had died. Helen, you promised to call her when we found out what happened to Sally.”

“No,” Helen smiled at him. “You promised her.”

Max’s brain took a break to savor the flavors of the scrumptious pie. “Can she bake a cherry pie, Billy boy, Billy boy?”

“
She can bake a cherry pie, quick as a cat can wink its eye,” Julia Costello sang a phrase from the old song.

Helen ended the song. “She’s a young thing and cannot leave her mother.” Max
noticed Helen’s cheeks flame. Was she interested in him?

♦
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Helen sipped her coffee, hoping Max would think the caffeine affected her complexion.
“We should tail Dr. Handler. You could interview him at his office while I check out his home. His mismanagement of the Schneider’s case leaves few excuses.”

The phone rang and her dad excused himself to answer it in the kitchen.
When he returned, his company smile had vanished. “Hey, Max, Mr. Brent wants to call off the investigation of his wife. He said to keep the retainer.” Andrew returned to his pie. “Seems they’re expecting a baby.”

Max lurched from the table.
Helen pointed to the guest bathroom, near the front door. They could all hear him retching. “Weak stomach,” Helen told her mother. “He loved your food.”

Max re-appeared, and couldn’t stop apologizing to her mother. “The army or
Iraq? If I eat a bite too much, this can happen? I guess your food was too good?”

“
Never mind.” Helen’s mother brought him a glass of ginger ale. “Drink this. You boys are never thanked enough for your service to keep us all safe.”

Helen avoided meeting
Max’s eyes. Unexpectedly hearing about Max’s child caused his stomach’s revolt. “We need to go over the case, Mother.”

“Of course.” Her mother nodded in her father’s direction. “We think you should invite George Clemmons to supper. We’d both like to meet him.”

“Sure.” Helen gulped. “If you think you want to. Could Max come too? He’ll keep things light, you know.”

“Max, you’re always welcome.” Helen’s mother patted
Max’s shoulder. As she walked into the kitchen, they heard her say, “We need clowns in the house.”

The phone rang
again and Julia Costello answered. They heard her asking a few questions. Julia reappeared in the dining room. She read from her note pad, “A Sharon Daley from St. Anthony’s Hospital found two more files for you. One is a Jean Bacon and the other is a Charlie Klondike. I told her you would pick up the files within the hour. She’s about to leave work for the day.”

“I’ll help Mother with the dishes,” her dad offered.
“You two better get started.”

Helen directe
d Max out to the garage to her father’s antique Oldsmobile. “Sorry, Max.” She backed the car out of the drive. “I wonder which doctor is dead. Didn’t the Mother Superior mention which of Marilyn Helm’s doctors died?”

“
What? I’m sorry. I wasn’t listening. I guess my nerves are shot.” Max occupied more than his side of the front seat.

He was so big.
Helen could smell his scent of clean soap; Irish Spring, she’d bet. She had never noticed before how small her parent’s home was. Max was too tall to stand up straight as he passed through the doorway out to the garage. She glanced at him as she drove to St. Anthony’s hospital in Ann Arbor. She felt she was a plotting, laying traps to catch him, while acting uninterested -- just the way Maybell, Anita, had done.