Rohn Federbush - Sally Bianco 01 - The Legitimate Way (24 page)

Donna sighed. “What would I have done if you hadn’t been with me? The doctor said I’m able to have more children.”

“I’m glad,” Sally said. “Sam tells me
Norman came over. John is taking measures right now to make sure he is jailed or at least legally constrained from coming within ten miles of you again.”

Donna shook her head. “Stealing David’s research is not
Norman’s doing.”

“But the vandalism is surely his.” Sam took Donna’s hand. “Donna Leonard, I hope you don’t mind repetition. Will you marry me?”

Donna turned to Sally. “He doesn’t want his work on the nursery to go to waste, right?”

“Donna,” Sally said. “Answer the man.”

“Yes,” Donna drew Sam down for a kiss. “Yes, a thousand times and forever, yes.”

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Second Tuesday in December

With all the best intentions, John’s request for the Ann Arbor Police Department to arrest
Norman for vandalism accomplished nothing. The police referred John to the state’s district attorney. John was able to demand an appointment and actually see Jimmy Walker in person, telling him the long tale of David’s accident, the various robberies and acts of vicious vandalism, and a warrant for Norman’s arrest had been duly issued.

The thing
Norman liked most about the Saturday he surprised Donna with a visit, was Donna’s hair had turned white at the temples. Donna’s life was being successfully terrorized. Now he knew Donna was pregnant and his share of his father’s estate would be stretched even further to include another heir. Burning down the house of the woman he hated seemed even in good taste. After Donna’s house was a pile of ashes, Norman looked at the cans of gasoline still in his car. He’d followed Sally and John earlier in the day to their expensive house being built on the Huron River.  All that fresh timber soaked in gasoline made a great blaze. Too bad he couldn’t stick around to toast some marshmallows. Driving past the arriving fire engines, he called Zelda. “We have a lot to talk about.”

St. Claire handed the phone to Zelda.  “Who is this?” Zelda asked.

“Norman, remember when you told me you would be glad to help in any way?”

“Yes?” Zelda said. St. Claire had pushed the speaker button before he handed her the phone.

“I’d like to leave town,” Norman said. “I burned down David’s house and Sally’s Bianco’s future abode. Could I stay at your place in New York?”

St. Claire shook his head. “I’m sorry, Norman,” Zelda tried to come up with a convincing lie. St. Claire wrote down a note and shoved it at her. “I sold my interest in the
gallery.” Zelda read from the note.

“Is there someone with you?”
Norman asked.

“Of course not. Why don’t you come over and we’ll talk about why you want to leave
Ann Arbor.”

“I will.”
Norman hung up the phone.

St. Claire advanced on Zelda. “We might as well make this a sympathetic visit.” Then for no apparent reason than his own evilness, he rained more than one blow onto Zelda’s face.

Finally, Zelda heard a wisp of a voice within herself sing quietly. “I’m all out of love,” She knew the truth. She no longer loved this evil man intent on ruining her looks.

The maniac was turned on by the bloody wreck he made of her nose and the slash his ring cut across her eyebrow. St. Claire carried her into the bedroom, stripped her and draped her face with her bloodied clothing, then coldly mounted her. When he finished, he turned his back saying, “You better make an appointment with your beauty parlor.” He laughed at his malicious joke. “You’re a mess.”

Zelda knew she would never let him touch her again. She’d rather die. How had she deluded herself into believing St. Claire was of any worth? His large brain served no earthly good.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Norman smiled when he started to knock on Zelda’s front door. She left the door of her condominium slightly ajar for him. His packed suitcase for a trip to New York was in the trunk of his car. The sooner he was out of the state, the better off he would be. He wondered what the sentence was for arson. Zelda’s obvious welcome was a relief. Norman relaxed and took his time appraising her belongings. White deep carpeting, mahogany furnishings and crystal light fixtures signified there was plenty of money here. Zelda wasn’t hard on the eyes, really and better looking than Harry Terkle’s housekeeper. Norman was sure he could do this, charm the old dame right out of her last sock.

A chilling bucket filled with ice and expensive
Champagne as well as a single, slender flute of a wineglass, promised Zelda was ready. He downed two glassfuls for himself. If he’d been as slim as he wanted to be, he would have left his shirt in the living room, but with his physique less than perfect, he settled for unbuttoning his fly. The bedroom door was open. He could see Zelda’s form in the wide bed, covered by a blue silk sheet, waiting for him. Her retro haircut hid her face with her black bangs and blunt-cut hair. All the better, as far as he was concerned. “Ready for me?” He tried to make the tone of his voice into a leer. Zelda didn’t move, so he kicked off his shoes and shucked his pants. “Plenty more where this comes from,” he said, as he turned back the covers. But Zelda turned her face toward him and he lost all interest. “What happened?”

“St. Claire wanted you to make a sympathetic house call,” Zelda said through a split and bruised lip. They heard sirens arriving outside. Norman grabbed his pants and fled into the bathroom, locking the door.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

The policewoman took one look at Zelda. “Where is he?” Sergeant Cramer asked. “Your neighbor reported the attack.”

Zelda started to laugh but her mouth hurt too much. Instead of indicating the connecting door in the bedroom to St. Claire’s condo, she pointed at the bathroom door. “Norman’s in there,” she said, and then had the good sense to add. “He’s been bragging about burning down Donna Leonard’s house as well as Sally Bianco’s construction site.”

Norman was led away in a state of shock.

Zelda refused to go to the hospital for medical care. “I’ll see my plastic surgeon.” She didn’t intend to face a mirror before all the corrective work was completed and healed. It was time for someone to start taking care of her, if it had to be Zelda Cameron herself.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Second Wednesday in December

Sally and John visited the county’s prosecutor, Jimmy Walker, at his request. His office was devoid of glamour. A metal desk, his executive chair behind it and two plastic upholstered metal chairs, passed for furniture. The decorations were books. Where a wall space remained, Jimmy Walker’s diplomas and awards were displayed. Sally imagined
Walker didn’t plan to stay a prosecutor for long. One case worthy of national coverage and he would be launched on a political career.

“I’ll bring in Mrs. Leonard after she’s sufficiently recovered.”
Walker pointed to the chairs in front of his desk. “Sam says she’s agreed to marry him.”

Sally nodded. At least some good news was in the offing. “Has the arson investigator found anything from our house or Donna’s?”

Walker placed a blackened key on a white piece of typing paper. “A safe-deposit key was found in the pile of ash from Professor Leonard’s desk. Both homes were purposefully destroyed. The igniting sites were doused in gasoline.”

“Has
Norman confessed to starting the fires?” Sally asked.

“Not yet,”
Walker said. “But Zelda Cameron told us he bragged about burning down both the houses.”

John characteristically rubbed his baldhead with both of his huge hands. Sally found the familiar gesture endearing. His hands were gentle when they touched her. “Did
Norman steal his father’s filing cabinets,” John asked, “during the memorial service for his father?”

“He lives with his mother,” Sally said.

“We have searched his home. He thinks Mrs. Leonard is still pregnant. He admits to hating her.”

“Why would he burn down what must be part of his inheritance and why attack our home?” John asked.

“Senseless rage. I guess a fourth of something wasn’t quite enough for Norman, and you were friends with his step-mother.”

“The initial robbery.” Sally looked at John for confirmation. “never made sense.”

“If Harry Terkle is right and the research was worthless, you are correct.”

“So.” John worked it out. “The research was valid; but David kept part of it, a formula, a secret from Harry and his supervisor.”

“We’re looking into St. Claire’s finances. He owns a New Jersey based drug firm on paper; but there is no building at the address site. Very suspicious.”

“Harry mentioned Parkinson test results from
China being a problem,” Sally said, then asked, “Is there a way to find out who St. Claire is dealing with in China?”

“We are going over his phone calls, too. So far, it looks like he set up
Norman for a rape charge.”

“Zelda didn’t charge
Norman with rape, did she?” John asked.

“No, she didn’t. We have a warrant out to bring her in for questioning. She lives right next to St. Claire.”

“They are lovers,” Sally stated.

“
Norman swears he never laid a hand on her; but Sergeant Cramer said Zelda’s face was smashed to smithereens.” Walker moved the safe-deposit key closer to his side of the desk.

“Are you tracking St. Claire’s whereabouts?” John asked.

“Yes, we are. We’ve impounded all the computers used on the research. David and Harry’s home computers are missing; but the university gave us access to the rest. We even confiscated St. Claire’s home computer. The FBI agreed to provide us with any relevant information from China.”

“How are you going to find the safety-deposit box?” John asked.

“I could use some help. You both own detective licenses right?”

John shook his head no; but Sally produced both of their valid cards. “I just wanted to keep in the game,” Sally told John.

“Good deal,” Walker said. “I have a search warrant you can produce for the bank managers. Take this key and find us some concrete information.” Sally and John got up to leave. “One more thing. Harry says he’ll wear a wire and try to trap St. Claire into disclosing the truth about David’s research.”

Sally shook her head no. “Harry shouldn’t be put through more traumas.”

“He won’t be able to lie,” John said.

Walker agreed. “We’ll just take our time and crucify the guy with facts.”

“Could you charge St. Claire, somehow, for contributing to David’s suicide,” Sally asked.

“That would be a stretch, but we’re certainly going to use every angle to prejudice the jury, if the judge allows it.”

“Who’s the judge,” Sally asked.

“Joe Wilcox.”

“He’ll allow more than that!” Sally laughed. St. Claire was going to get his comeuppance sooner rather than later.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Second Wednesday in December

Zelda went to the one place she was sure St. Claire would not look for her. Harry Terkle opened the door and just stood there when he got a good look at Zelda. She pushed past him and shut the door behind her. “St. Claire did it. This isn’t the first time.”

“Shouldn’t I drive you to the hospital?” Harry took Zelda’s hand and led her to the couch. “I don’t own any pain killers. Would a glass of brandy help?”

“Only if you serve it with a straw.” Zelda wanted to laugh, but her face hurt way too much. “I have an appointment with my plastic surgeon on Monday. He phoned in a pain prescription at the Village Apothecary. Could you pick it up for me? Is there any way I could stay here? St. Claire won’t think of you as someone I would run to.”

“Absolutely. How could he have hurt you?”

“Oh, he’s got enough meanness in him. Plenty to go around.” But Zelda felt really good, face torn to pieces and all. She felt freed. “You live quite comfortably here, don’t you?” Zelda surveyed the walls lined with bookcases.

“I need a housekeeper.” Harry blushed. “Norman Leonard was dallying with my last helper.”

“Did you know he’s in prison? St. Claire set him up for rape charges.”

Harry sat down in a padded rocking chair. “Did Norman rape you?”

“No,” Zelda waved her hand at the ridiculous premise. “St. Claire wanted him to be blamed for everything. He did burn down Donna and Sally Bianco’s houses.”

“St. Claire!” Harry was clearly shocked.

“No.
Norman did it, because he thinks Donna is pregnant with David’s child.”

“Well she is,” Harry said.

Zelda wondered if this arrangement with Harry, which he wasn’t yet aware of, was going to be a match made in heaven or a life-long teaching job. “Donna lost the baby.”

“Oh, dear Lord,” Harry slid to his knees, hands clasped in prayer. “When will the evil subside?”

Zelda thought that was a good question for the universe to answer. Maybe Harry wasn’t as unschooled as he seemed.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Paul St. Claire was one-step ahead of Zelda. He inquired at the Village Apothecary if Zelda’s pain prescription was ready. The pharmacist knew the professor by name and face. St. Claire signed for drugs for his next door neighbor, with her permission, more than once.