Restore My Heart (34 page)

“If my father had information that could put Dan Alsop out of business, he could’ve been killed for that alone.”

“I also suspect your father was murdered, although I reviewed his file yesterday. One cleverly-staged suicide. The insurance company will need convincing. You might want to consider having him exhumed and running toxicology tests on him.”

Joe stiffened. Could he put his mother through all that? “Weren’t tests run in his autopsy?”

“No. Tox screens aren’t routine, unless foul play is suspected.” Ferguson shrugged. “You have more of a case for foul play now. You could push the coroner for further blood analysis and tissue sampling or pay for a private pathologist to handle it.”

“What would we look for?”

“Any substance. In order to stage a suicide like—” Ferguson didn’t finish. With an apologetic grimace, he shrugged.

“Don’t spare me. I know Dad’s pistol was stuck in his mouth and fired. What you’re saying is if he wouldn’t voluntarily squeeze the trigger, a strong drug could disable him so that he’d be helpless against the murderer squeezing it.”

“It’s been done before. Someone could dope his coffee or food, inject him with a drug—”

“Inject?” Joe interrupted. “Sally saw a piece of a syringe by the dumpster at the car lot.”

“Sorry, Joe.” Ferguson shook his head. “Miss Clay told me about that. Victor Bloom was an insulin-dependent diabetic, so it was probably his. Regrettably, she didn’t recover it for forensics.”

“She knows better. Handling used hypodermics is risky business.”
There are strict guidelines for the disposal of biohazard waste. You don’t just throw a needle in

the trash
.

“I can’t argue that. Back to Dan Alsop. I’m getting a search warrant for his house and business, but I’ll need probable cause. Sally says you have the Darrin hidden away.”

“Yes, it’s about forty miles from here in—”

“Don’t tell me. Just take me to it tomorrow. With the paper trail tracking it back to Dan Alsop, the forged engine number should convince a judge.”

“Sure. Frankly, I’ll be relieved to turn over the car. It’s brought trouble from Day One.”

“I don’t think you or Miss Clay are in danger now. If you don’t have the car and she doesn’t have the photos, neither of you is a threat.”

“I disagree.” Someone had tried to run down Sally. “Sally’s a witness to the forgery, isn’t she?”

“We’ll want her as a witness.” He shrugged. “It’d be stronger testimony if we had proof to back it up.”

“What about Vic Bloom? How was he a threat?”

“I’m hoping we’ll find out soon.” Ferguson stood, extending his hand to Joe. “Thank you for your time.”

Joe rose to meet his handshake. “I want to help, Special Agent Ferguson. My father was no criminal and he wasn’t suicidal.”

With a quick nod, Ferguson whisked past Joe, leaving him alone in Sally’s office. Joe hesitated, although anxious to talk to Sally. He hadn’t really rehearsed his speech. What would he say to heal their rift? What if she wouldn’t talk to him? He hadn’t missed the wariness in her eyes when he’d walked into the garage.

She’d been disgusted with him last night. No wonder. Just as she’d said, his injured party routine had worn thin. He’d been so quick to assume her betrayal, without hearing her side of the story. How fair was that?

Regardless of what she’d done, he needed her. He needed her! The realization no longer unsettled him. Whatever it took, he had to recover what he’d thrown away. He wouldn’t do it sitting in her office, waiting for her to come to him. It was up to him to go to her. Collecting his scattered confidence, he marched into the garage.

Sally’s heart somersaulted in her chest as Joe stalked into the garage. She had a long way to go if she was going to get him out of her system. Just looking at his handsome face stole her breath. Well, he’d be gone soon. She wouldn’t have to look at him. That’d surely help, wouldn’t it?

Instead, she tightened inside with an aching loss, already missing the sight of him. It wasn’t fair. Here or gone, he affected her. She pretended to be absorbed in the schematic for a high-energy electronic electrical system for a 350 Chevy, but couldn’t ignore Joe’s presence. He stood inches from her. His woodsy scent filled her, his warmth drifted over her.

“Sally, we need to talk.”

Oh, God! She’d forgotten Vic’s murder. Poor Joe. Her gaze flicked to him. His eyes stared back, dark and troubled. A neediness she’d not seen before filled his gaze. He needed her! She wondered if he realized the emotion in his face. Would he resent her one glimpse at his vulnerability? Joe no longer trusted her, but his eyes said otherwise. She’d not let him down.

“Okay, I need a break. Want to go for coffee?”

“That’d be perfect.” He tried a smile but it didn’t stick.

She slid from the stool. “Justin, want a cup of coffee? We’re running over to White Castle.”

Her father stared at Joe, then Sally. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Joe hadn’t agreed to White Castle, but Sally’s father wanted to know her whereabouts. Last night must have shaken him. All morning he’d been the proverbial mother hen, clucking around when a customer or the FBI showed up. It might have annoyed another person. Sally treasured any breakthrough, any show of interest from her father.

At the door, Joe pressed his palm at the small of her back. She resisted the urge to lean back, increasing the pressure. Both comforting and unnerving, Joe’s touch warmed her and she welcomed it. At war with her body, her brain warned her to shrug away. She told her brain to take a hike.

“Okay if I drive?”

Not
I’ll drive
. He’d asked, still the gentleman, chipping away the last of Sally’s resistance. “Sure.”

Joe ushered her to his car. After he’d pulled onto the street, he glanced at her. “You were right. I was wrong.”

“Wow. Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

“Okay.” Sally studied his profile. “What are we talking about?”

“My injured party routine.” He shrugged, then glanced at her again. “I overreacted.”

She sighed.
You broke my heart
. No use crying over spilt milk, Aunt Sue would say. “I can’t really blame you, Joe. I know things didn’t look good.”

“Call me a fool, but I don’t believe you’d betray a friend.”

“I’d never call you a fool or betray a friend.”

“That’s a relief.” He smiled then, a genuine smile, and reached for her hand. “Friends?”

This from the guy who’d said, “After Friday night, I think we’re beyond friends.” What did she expect?
Oh, Sally, I love you and can’t live without you?
She knew better than that. Her original assessment had been right on target. He needed an excuse to distance himself. That hadn’t changed. “Sure. Friends.” Whatever.

Joe stopped at the intersection. His smile disappeared. “I don’t like the climate, Sally. The cops haven’t charged me, but—”

“Charged you?” Outrage bolted through her. “With what? Surely they know you’d never hurt Vic. You’re no more a murderer than I am.”

He chuckled. “Can I hire you to defend me?”

“Seriously, do you have a lawyer?”

“Not yet.” His jaw tightened. “They told me not to leave town. I’m supposed to be in Atlanta Friday morning for a staff meeting.”

Sally fought to control her features. Joe was leaving Friday. Her heart ached, even though she’d known he’d return home soon. But leaving for Atlanta beat sitting in a jail cell. She shivered at the thought.

“You cold?”

“No, afraid. For you, I mean. Do you really think you’re a suspect?”

“I found his body, Sally.” He said the words in a flat, emotionless tone. But Sally heard the anguish he’d tried to hide.

“I’m so sorry, Joe. That had to be rough.”

“It also makes me a suspect until the cops come up with something better.”

Will they even look?
The thought came out of nowhere, clutching at Sally’s chest, and it wouldn’t let go.
“We
have to come up with something better. Let me think—”

“We?”

“—about this. Who gains from Vic’s death? Barbara?”

“Or me.”

“What?”

“An outsider might see this as an opportunity for me to buy out Vic’s half from his distraught widow. Then Mom and I would own Bloom Desalvo Motors.”

“You aren’t interested in the business.”

“You know that and I know that.”

“I see. What about Dan Alsop?”

“I’ve been thinking about him. I can’t see Vic double crossing him. It’s just not in him. Mom says Vic’s not overly ambitious. He always takes—” Joe swallowed. “I mean, he
took
the path of least resistance.”

She placed her other hand over his and squeezed. He’d known Vic all his life. He’d need to grieve his loss just as she had Roy’s. “Well, here’s a theory: Vic’s as innocent as Leo and, like Leo, stumbles upon information that Dan Alsop is cheating Bloom Desalvo customers. Just like your dad, he’s killed for it. If Dan Alsop or whoever he is has enough money at stake in his scam, he can’t afford exposure.”

“I like your theory but for one thing: the secret file on the USB drive. It shows Bloom Desalvo profiting. That makes Vic and/or Dad accomplices to Dan Alsop without evidence to point elsewhere.”

“Barbara Bloom?”

“If you’d seen her this morning when she arrived at the office, you’d know she couldn’t have killed Vic.”

“Or she’s a great actress.”

Joe shook his head. “She was already upset because Vic hadn’t come home last night. When she saw the ambulance and police cars, she lost it. Paramedics had to sedate her right there in the parking lot.”

We had to sedate him and move him to the psychiatric ward
.

Pushing thoughts of her father aside, Sally asked, “Did she say anything?”

“Nothing coherent. She just kept crying ‘no.’ “

“He was her husband. If she didn’t kill him, she’d have good reason to fall apart.”

“Don’t be a romantic.”

She slipped her hand from his. “Don’t be a romantic? You’re the only one who ever mentioned romance, Joe. ‘I have no right to romance you when my life is so unsettled.’ “ She’d not allow him to glimpse her disappointment. “I haven’t a romantic bone in my body.”

“Well, neither does Barbara.”

“You know her that well?”

Joe seemed to ponder that as he pulled into the drive-thru lane at White Castle. “Three large coffees?”

“Make mine a hot chocolate,” Sally said, choosing calcium over caffeine. “They make it rich, with whole milk.”

While Joe ordered, Sally stared at the cars in the parking lot. She had to help Joe. What choice did she have? She loved him, not that he’d ever know. She’d be making no foolish confessions.

“I had that coming.”

“What?”

“The crack about romance. I did say that, because if I were husband material, you’d be the first and only woman I’d pursue. But I’m not and you need to understand that.”

“I understand you and I are ill-suited. I don’t understand why you think you aren’t husband material. Let’s just drop it for now, okay?” She didn’t want to beat a dead horse. Right now they needed evidence to tie Dan Alsop to Vic’s murder. “Joe, how was Vic killed?”

Joe eased up to the take-out window to wait for their drinks. “A bullet between the eyes.”

“What caliber bullet? Do you know? Did the police mention a weapon?”

“The detectives asked all the questions. Besides, they probably won’t know until the medical examiner tells them.”

“Did they check your prints against the ones on the gun?”

“They didn’t find a gun. But they tested my hands for residue.”

“Then they know you didn’t fire the weapon, right?”

“I could’ve used gloves.”

“The killer didn’t leave the gun, though, right?”

Joe shook his head. “No, this one wasn’t a staged suicide. It looked more like a hit.”

“Any sign of forced entry?”

“No.” He wedged the cardboard tray laden with hot steaming cups between them on the front seat. “God, Sally, you’re as bad as the cops.”

“Hey, I’m not the enemy here. I’m trying to piece this together. At Mustang Sally’s, we had forced entry and no gun left at the scene. With your dad, we had no forced entry and a gun. With Vic we have no forced entry and no gun found. But if Vic was killed by the same gun that shot Roy—”

“Dad was killed with his own revolver, a thirty-eight he kept locked in his desk.”

“Did Vic have a gun in his desk, too?”

“We didn’t find one, remember?”

“Right. We would’ve seen one when we were searching for files.”

“Why are you fixating on the gun?”

“It might connect the murders to the Kaiser. What else could it be? What did Vic, Leo, and Roy have in common?”

Joe heaved a weary sigh. “Look, Sally, we can brainstorm till the cows come home.

But all the cops are interested in is evidence.”

“Then we need to get it.”

“How do you propose we get evidence without doing something dangerous or illegal?”

“Bloom Desalvo is closed, right?”

“It’s a crime scene. The cops won’t let us near it.”

“So your mother’s not able to work today. I’ll bet she’s in the kitchen as we speak, baking.”

Joe beat the side of his head with his palm. “Hello?”