Restore My Heart (31 page)

Ellen sank into the pillows on the settee. “May I ask you a personal question, Sally?”

Sally shrugged. “Sure.”

“How did you injure your leg?”

That’s right, Ellen had been a doctor and was curious from a medical perspective. “It was crushed by a wheel during a stockcar race.”

“About nine years ago?”

“Right. Why do you ask?”

Ellen smiled. “I thought your name was familiar. I was your surgeon.”

“You were?” Sally straightened, her curiosity piqued. “I’m sorry I didn’t remember you, but that ordeal is one big blur.”

“You were medicated, of course. And I saw you only a few times.”

“Then you’re the surgeon who saved my leg! Oh, my God, I should be ashamed not to remember you. The first doctor, the one in the ER, told Dad they’d need to amputate. With all your patients, I’m amazed you remember me.”

“Your case was a tough one, Sally, a real challenge. You walk with barely a limp.”

Sally smiled. “It’s worse when I’m tired.” Like now.

“Your father had a rough time, too, as I recall. We had to sedate him and move him to the psychiatric ward. Do you remember that?”

“W-what?” Sally felt the blood drain from her face. “No, no, I never knew about that. I just remember him being treated for clinical depression, later on.”

“Oh, he was treated early on, I do know that. They even had him on suicide watch.”

Sally reeled from Ellen’s words. What did it mean? Was he distraught for losing his chance at Winston Cup, or, as Joe had suggested, overwhelmed with his own guilt about her accident? “How long was he kept in the hospital?”

Ellen shrugged. “I really don’t know. I was your doctor, not his. But I’m glad to see you again. I have to admit, you beat the odds. I did my best surgery, but I wasn’t sure if you’d be able to walk.”

“I’m still doing physical therapy. I was determined.”

“I’m impressed with your progress.” Ellen folded her hands. “Now, tell me what you wanted to see me about.”

Unable to come up with a plausible story, Sally stuck with the truth. “Joe doesn’t think Leo committed suicide. He’s been digging into the last few weeks of his life, trying to figure out what may have been going through his mind.”

“Looking for closure.” Ellen nodded. “I can relate.”

“Frankly, he’s troubled. He’s had more questions than answers. To be blunt, he’s concerned that you and Leo were having an affair.”

Sally watched closely for the woman’s reaction. Ellen closed her eyes, but not before a tear slipped past her lashes. “I can see why he’d suspect that.”

“Ma’am, I don’t mean to upset you—”

“You’re not. I’m still grieving my husband. Mr. Desalvo was a gentleman, through and through. Everything between us was above board, no matter what they say.”

“They?”

“Mr. and Mrs. Bloom.”

“Why did you say you understand why they’d suspect you?”

“They didn’t like it because I insisted on dealing with Mr. Desalvo. They were both pushy. Mr. Desalvo let me ask lots of questions, take my time. He listened when I needed someone to listen.”

“Personal stuff?”

“Not really. It’s like I said, I’ve been lonely. I have few friends. Stuart and I were very close. We worked our orthopedic practice together. We didn’t seem to need outsiders. Now he’s gone and I’m paying the price.”

“Sounds as if you had a happy marriage.”

“Yes. We were each other’s best friend. Except for golf, we were inseparable.”

“That kind of marriage is rare.” Sally thought about spending her life with the one she loved, a best friend, and Joe immediately came to mind. She pushed aside the painful memory of his parting words. “I’m sorry for your loss. You’re fortunate to have had a happy marriage while you could.”

“I know that. I’m just explaining how my loneliness could be misconstrued.”

Joe’s mother suffered just like Ellen Kennedy. And Dad, after Sally’s mother died. Funny. She’d missed her mother, ached for her, without considering her father’s grief.

“Are you all right?” Ellen asked.

Sally shook her head. “Sorry. I was just thinking about my father. When Mom died, he must have suffered terribly. In all these years, he’s never seriously dated another woman. Just the occasional Fender Skirt.”

Ellen gave her a quizzical half-smile. “Fender Skirt?”

“A race track groupie. My dad was a driver.” Remembering her unusual childhood, Sally smiled. “I grew up at the speedways.”

“Has he retired from racing?” Ellen asked.

Sally nodded. He’d retired all right, a long time ago. “Right now Dad’s working for me, at Mustang Sally’s. He knows a lot about the old cars, if you ever need help with your Packard.”

“I still have your card.”

Sally pushed herself from the chair. “Thank you for the coffee. I apologize for invading your privacy.”

“Don’t. Your young man is troubled, I know. I saw it in his eyes. If I can do anything to ease his mind about his father, I will. Gladly.”

Sally flinched at the
your young man
reference. “Thank you. You’re very gracious.”

Ellen walked her through the foyer. “Joe Desalvo seems a lot like his father. Are things serious between you two?”

Sally shook her head. “Hardly. Right now he’s not speaking to me.”

“Ah. He doesn’t know you’re here.”

“No, he doesn’t. I—I just want to help him, that’s all.”

“Let me know if there’s anything else I can do.” Ellen pulled open the door. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you the first time my Packard won’t start.”

She smiled. “Don’t wait for trouble, Ellen. We do regular maintenance work, too.”

“I’ll remember that. I hope things work out for you and Joe.”

Not likely. But reassuring Joe about Leo’s marital fidelity would give her one last excuse to see him.

Joe hesitated at the Universal Joint’s door. Sally had tracked him down at his mom’s and asked to see him. Against his better judgment, here he stood.

He inhaled a calming breath, then stepped inside. The assault of cigarette smoke stung his eyes.
Hot Rod Lincoln
rumbled from the jukebox. Squinting, he focused on Sally at the bar. A red-haired kid leaned too close to her, his arm gripping the bar beside her stool.

Behind Sally stood her father, by all appearances still playing bodyguard. Striding toward the bar, Joe nearly collided with a blond-haired waitress he vaguely remembered meeting. Jessica, or Jennifer, perhaps.

“You here to rescue Sally?” she asked.

“Rescue her?”

The blonde nodded toward the bar. “Orel there has been hitting on Sally for months. Now, he’s monopolizing her with tales of his big race.”

“He races?” The twerp looked barely out of high school.

“Yes. I suppose he’s pretty good. He won Sunday at Ohio Valley Raceway.” She hoisted her tray of drinks. “See you later.”

Joe nodded a greeting to Justin Clay as he squeezed beside Sally, forcing Orel to step back. “Excuse me.”

“Uh, Joe Desalvo, meet Orel Baxter.”

Joe shook hands with Orel. What the hell, he was just a kid. Probably had a crush on Sally, that’s all, which was fine with Joe. What did he care? “Congratulations. I hear you won the race yesterday.”

Every pimple on the kid’s face reddened when he grinned. “Thanks. Mr. Clay’s gonna go over my engine with me.”

Now Sally beamed. Joe supposed he should be happy for her. She’d managed to get her father back to work and mingling again, at least as far as his limited social skills would allow. But Joe refused to give her or her family or friends a break. She’d stretched his compassion to the limit.

“Orel, I’ll leave you and Dad to your plans.” Scooping her beer from the counter, she slid off the barstool. “Joe and I have business to discuss in private.” To Joe she added, “Let’s grab a booth.”

“Lead the way.”

He reached for her, cupping her elbow, but she shrugged off his hand. Fine. He didn’t relish the idea of touching her, anyway. He couldn’t trust his hormones to remember he didn’t want her. Focusing on his anger, he cursed his lack of control. In truth, he
did
want her. Still.

She dropped onto the bench opposite him. “I talked to Ellen Kennedy today.”

“You did what?” Of all the reasons he’d imagined Sally calling him, he’d never once considered this one.

“Joe, she wasn’t having an affair with your father. She’s still grieving her husband.”

Fury robbed him of speech. He squeezed his eyes shut and counted to ten.

“There’s more you should know.”

“Haven’t you had your fill of spying?” he snapped.

Sally blanched. Joe wasn’t proud of the hurt reflected in her eyes, knowing he’d put it there. Her voice so low he strained to hear, she said “Yes.”

She pushed against the table, sliding across the bench as if to leave. “This was a mistake. I’m sorry I bothered you.”

“Sally, wait.” Joe rested his hand atop hers. This time, she didn’t shrink from his touch. “I’m sorry. Let’s talk, okay?”

She nodded. “I just wanted to tell you what Ellen said.”

“Okay.”

“She said your dad was the perfect gentleman and a kind listener. She insisted on dealing with him because Vic and Barbara acted pushy. They rushed her to make a decision about a car. Leo didn’t pressure her at all. She said there was no hanky-panky, and I believe her.”

“Barbara? Pushy? I don’t know why Barbara would be involved.” Joe rubbed his thumb across his chin. “That seems strange.”

Barbara, do you get involved with the customers in your job here?

No. That was for Leo and Vic. I’m the bookkeeper
,
same as always
.

“Unless Barbara suspected hanky-panky and was looking out for your mom.”

“Maybe.”

Your mom ends up with half the business and what did she do to earn it? She stayed at home and had Leo’s babies and cooked wonderful meals and kept the perfect house. All I ever wanted and couldn’t have
.

“What is it, Joe?”

He reined in his temper, sure that whatever he told her would be repeated to the FBI. He’d be civil to Sally, but he’d not share any more of his troubled thoughts with her. “Nothing. Did the FBI agent get to town?”

Sally lifted the pilsner to her lips without meeting his gaze. She sipped, then cradled the glass in both hands. “He’s in town. I’m meeting him at the shop in the morning.”

“I hope he gets to the bottom of this. I want whoever shot Grandma caught.”

“How is Grandma?”

“She’s better. They may release her tomorrow, but not to go home. She has to stay with Mom until she’s healed.”

“I’m really glad she’s going to be all right.” Sally drained the last of her beer. “Did you talk to the homicide detective today about Leo?”

“Yes. I gave him the detective’s report on Duane Anderson. He agreed to review the case and the autopsy notes, but he has other cases.”

“Good. At least he didn’t dismiss you.”

“Yeah. So I guess this ends our sleuthing partnership.”

Sally twirled her empty glass. “Guess so.”

With nothing further to discuss, Joe started to leave. Sally’s bleak expression stopped him. “Tell me something, Sally. Why
did
you go talk to Ellen Kennedy?”

Sally’s chocolate drop eyes bore into him, as if she could X-ray his soul. “You seemed distressed, wondering if Leo had fooled around on your mother. I just wanted to help ease your mind.”

“I suppose I should thank you for that. Are you going to report it to the Feds?”

Her snort of disgust took him by surprise. “Give it a rest, Joe. Your betrayed, injured-party routine is wearing thin.”

Betrayed, injured-party routine?
“What are you talking about?”

Sally sighed, then slid out of the booth. “Forget it.”

Joe caught up with her. “Whatever you’re trying to say, spit it out.”

“Walk me to my car. We don’t need an audience.”

“What about your bodyguard?” He pointed with his chin toward the bar, where Justin Clay watched them.

“We came in separate cars. He can follow me home.”

Outside, she leaned her back against the fender and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ve given your reaction, your
overreaction
, a lot of thought. I did nothing dishonorable, nothing you wouldn’t do in the same spot. I didn’t know you and had promised to help the FBI.”

“You could’ve told me later. I thought you trusted me.”

“I planned to tell you, just as soon as I cleared it with Ferguson.” Sally shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. If you were as honest as you believe yourself to be, you’d admit the truth.”

He clenched his jaw. Maybe she had a point, but he wasn’t ready to concede. How could he want to wring her neck and make love to her at the same time? “What truth?”

“You needed an out. All that talk about my tempting you to change your life.” She shook her head. “You were running scared, needing to escape. Well, here’s a news flash. You’re free, Joe Desalvo. Got it? I never asked you for promises. Didn’t expect any.”

Her strong steady voice nearly convinced him. The light of the street lamp caught a shimmer of tears filling her eyes. She turned to unlock the door of her Mustang, her hands trembling so violently they rattled the keys. Slumping against the window, she hung her head and sighed. “Go back to Atlanta and leave me alone.”