Rohn Federbush - Sally Bianco 01 - The Legitimate Way (7 page)

“Difficult to broach the subject with the Grangers.” Robert eyed the phone.

“I’ll take care of it. Write down their number” She stepped out into the hall with her cell phone and the slip of paper Robert handed her. “Hilda, this is Robert’s friend Sally. Could I speak to your husband…about the spirit pictures?”

“Sweetie,” Hilda called.

Her husband answered gruffly, “Granger residence.”

“Yes,” Sally said, introductory words failing her. “Robert Koelz needs a place to crash for a few days. Would you be inconvenienced?”

“Absolutely not.”

Sally tried to think of convincing arguments.

“Tell Robert there will be a key under the mat. First room on the left at the top of the stairs is his. I’ll put extra towels in bath. Will that do?”

“Thank you. I’ll tell him.” Sally was flabbergasted. She knew most reasonable people held Robert in some esteem and the Grangers’ immediate welcome confirmed her feelings. She returned to the shop. “You’re all set, Robert. Key’s under the mat.” Robert gave her a thumbs up, before downing another glass of sherry. “Do we know where Ricco is staying?” She asked Sam.

“I don’t think we want to know,” Harvey said. “Too much of a temptation to send people with instructions to pound on him without restraint.”

“We’ll have none of that.” Andrew Sites arrived on the scene, dressed in his court attire, black suit and blue tie. Sally smiled with pleasure when she saw Ed Thatch accompanied the lawyer.

Ed delivered Robert his news. “My young friend in computer systems agrees with the information Sally found. Mary Jo is moving from motel to motel in Arizona, probably trying to avoid her husband’s detectives.”

“I thought it was a state offense to abuse your wife.” Harvey cuffed Sam’s shoulder.

“Oh, it is,” Andrew sat ramrod straight in the chair next to Robert’s desk. “However, the state needs proof of the crime, just as they need a body to prove Robert harmed Mary Jo.”

“What about this new blood evidence?” Sally asked Andrew.

“We will need to clear the case in court, Robert.” Andrew leaned toward Robert in apology. “The police are being very thorough.”

“Don’t they know she’s moving around
Arizona?” Harvey asked.

“Her van is moving.” Andrew shook his head. “I wish Jimmy Walker was not running for Congress. But it looks like the prosecutor is determined to make a name for himself.”

Sally motioned toward Sam. “Robert’s not sure he wants Sam, my friend from St. Charles, and me to search Arizona.”

“Robert, you’ve known this lad since he was born. What could be better in court than a law enforcement officer on our side?”

They continued useless comments about the probabilities in the case. Mostly about the possibilities of Ricco finding Mary Jo before they did. She needed to show up in Ann Arbor before the arraignment. One thing was not mentioned. How would Robert be able to survive jail, if he was convicted?

Madelyn’s words haunted Sally. Madelyn wanted to know what Sally was doing connected to these people. Danny’s death marked the end of Sally’s normal life. She joined
Ann Arbor’s City Club, painted watercolors, oils, attended their writing group, wasted time in long lunches, and was thankful for people to see on the holidays. After a time, perhaps a delayed stage of grief, she stopped being very sociable. She blamed lack of time on her writing schedule; but to tell the truth, she was too depressed to greet her friends.

If the worst happened to Robert and Sally lost him too, she would return to the club, get involved in learning another language, travel, do something to prove she was alive and happy. But Robert, how would Robert be able to live cooped up in prison. Tears rolled down her cheeks, for Danny, for Robert, and herself. She covered the faux pax for a while, blowing her nose and fumbling with her pocketbook.

Harvey noticed. “Oh, don’t.” He broke out in loud sobs with his huge chest heaving.

Andrew offered Robert his handkerchief.

Robert said between gulps, “A friend and I were arrested once, out in California, for organizing orange pickers. He started crying about his dad, who died a week earlier, then we started crying for ourselves and the suffering workers around the world, and finally even the jailers were weeping for the plight of humanity.”

Ed shook his head at the group, probably trying to rehearse how to describe the strange happenings to his un-emotional wife.

“Get a grip,” Andrew finally said. “I can’t be drinking with people slobbering up the place.”

Miss Poi chose the sad moment to claim her master’s lap, mewing until he calmed down enough to pet her. She crawled up his chest and bumped his chin with her furry head.

“It’s not as if Mary Jo died,” Ed said.

“If I ever get my hands on her,” Sam Tedler said. “I might strangle her myself.”

Sally’s schoolmate chose the exact moment to appear at the door of the Bibliopole. John Nelson did not hide his shocked expression. “Hello?”

“John.” Sally greeted him, wiping the tears off her face. She noticed she needed to pull him across the bookshop’s threshold. “Come and meet the extraordinary Robert Koelz.”

“Friend to all.” Harvey stepped backward unto Ed’s foot, who surprisingly swore.

“We are normally a quiet crowd.” Robert extended his hand up to John. Miss Poi stayed put on Robert’s lap. Ed smiled engagingly at John, who stood a head taller than anyone in the room, and then Ed offered him a full glass of cream sherry.

“I’m driving.” John declined the glass, graciously. “Very nice to meet you all. Sally told me she made friends with a book dealer.” He stopped in his phatic sentences to survey the small shop. “I imagined a larger establishment.” Noticing the error in his choice of words, he added, “To have room for all of Robert’s friends.”

Everyone nodded to each other, pleased with themselves and Sally’s newest inclusion to the group.

♦
♦
♦
♦
♦

Later Tuesday night, scrunched between Sam and John in the taxi’s back seat on the way to Metro airport, Sally noticed most of her explanations about the Bibliopole’s crew were acknowledged by John’s monosyllable grunts.

Sam picked up the same vibes. “Second thoughts about Robert’s innocence?”

“Not in the least.” John stole a glimpse at Sally. “I’m worried we don’t know how to find Mary Jo once we’re in
Arizona.” John bothered his baldhead with one hand. “When does the trial begin? I couldn’t tell James how long he would need to take care of my dog, Ginger.”

Sally’s stomach dropped. She dialed the shop on her cell. “Robert? Is Andrew still with you?”

“She found Mary Jo,” Robert called to the group.

“Nonsense,” Sally said.

Andrew could be heard wrestling the phone from Robert. “I thought as much. Is there any way to slow the intake of alcohol with these guys?”

Sally sighed. “When is the trial date, Andrew?”

“Don’t give it a second thought,” Andrew said. “Judge Wilcox will issue for the arraignment continuances until I’m ready to proceed.”

“Really?” Sally said.

“That’s what friends are for.” Sally heard Robert crow in the background.

She shut the cell phone, hoping John failed to hear the replies she was privy to. “The judge is interested in receiving all the information we can come up with. My trip to
Florida wasn’t wasted on him.”

John nudged her side. “That’s why I’m here. Once you told me Mary Jo rented a condo and was working at Wal-Mart in
Orlando, I wanted to find her myself. For one thing, I do not appreciate Ricco perpetrating a fraud by signing her name to a sales agreement. I had showed the house to six St. Charles families. I took the Cardonè house off the market.”

“I’m not sure that was a good idea. Did you inform Ricco?”

“Of course not.”

This schoolmate was easily offended, Sally noted for future reference. “Sorry. I am concerned Mary Jo will be found by Ricco’s henchmen before we do.”

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

After enduring the indignities of airport security, Sally was seated in a row with Sam on her left and John on her right, next to the window. “I’m glad I won’t need to lie to the police to ask for information.”

“What lie?” John asked.

“I told the police in
Vero Beach I was the court-appointed advocate for Mary Jo.” Sally slipped off her shoes and snuggled her purse under the seat in front of her with her toes.

“Do you
flash a detective card?” John asked Sam.

“Try not to.” Sam ducked to avoid a bulging backpack of a boarding passenger. “This is the first case for Sylvester and me. Sylvester still needs to pass the test.”

“We’re apprentices.” Sally leaned on John’s arm.

“How long before we need to take a test?” John asked.

Sally wondered if John was as interested as he sounded. She hoped he joined the hunt mostly to keep her company, maybe even start a courtship. “Are you sure you want to become a detective?”

“I liked being with you in
Illinois.” John held her hand. “After forty years, hotel work is getting boring. Realtors are a dime a dozen. I wouldn’t mind using my brain to sort out facts, maybe serve justice.” He laughed. “Is there some reason for all of Robert’s friends to wear blue?”

“Blue?” Sam asked. “Do my jeans count?”

Sally tried to recall how the book crew dressed. Robert always wore blue. She remembered Andrew’s blue tie. Her own blue sweater almost matched Ed’s. Harvey’s blue jeans vest strategically hid half his girth. Maybe each and every one of them tried to let Robert know they were on his side by mimicking his favorite color choice. John wore his yellow rain Harveyet.

“Why didn’t you wear blue?” Sally asked John.

“I didn’t know blue was required for booklovers.”

The man possessed a sense of humor. At least he was observant, a necessity for detective work. What would working alongside him bring about? She felt more alive, ready for adventure, than she experienced in years. She touched her throat with her fingers. “I think I’m having palpitations.” John reached for the overhead call button. Sally pulled his arm down and looked into his eyes. “I’m enjoying myself.”

He relaxed, but wouldn’t let go of her hand. “Good.” He smiled. “Me, too.”

Mary Jo in Orlando, Florida

Second Monday in September

Mary Jo Cardonè did have the two rabbits with her, but she was not in Illinois or Michigan. She had driven her minivan all night, straight to Orlando to escape crazy Ricco.

Late Sunday night, when she had stopped to check on the rabbits, calling Robert Koelz kept her sane. His wit, warmth, and acceptance provided a tangible lifeline to her warring selves. She lacked the courage to face her husband in an
Illinois court of law. All those proven, unsafe hours outside the courtroom kept her unsure of what step to take next. Running provided the room to think. She was careful not to reveal her whereabouts to Robert, because crazy Ricco would wheedle the information out of the poor old man with one device or another. Robert did not mention Ricco was harassing him, which relieved Mary Jo’s fears somewhat. Perhaps Ricco would eventually give up trying to make her return.

Mary Jo pulled down the orange turtleneck sweater she was wearing and craned to see if the bruises were still visible on both sides of her neck where Ricco had tried to choke her after he was served divorce papers at work a month earlier in Illinois. The rearview mirror revealed the bruises were yellowed, but still visible.

The last week in Ann Arbor, her landlady thought she was reuniting an estranged couple, when she allowed Ricco admittance to Mary Jo’s room.

Mary Jo did not scream during the rape. The old lady was barely able to walk much less provide intervention. No sense for two women to be harmed. Mary Jo was accustomed to Ricco’s brutality, enough to know when not to resist. Afterwards, Mary Jo laid a hand on his neck, which he liked after sex, with her standing between his knees. Quite proud of his reconciliation, Ricco rubbed his fingers insider her mouth and then French kissed her. As soon as he finished, Ricco demanded she pack. Which she did, while Ricco watched each move. Sure of her submission, he gave her directions to meet him in three hours at Robert’s bookshop. Mary Jo nodded and Ricco slapped her face hard, just to keep his dictates fresh in her mind.

Mary Jo hardly remembered loading the van, not answering the landlady’s questions, but agreeing Ricco was a loving husband to collect her so soon after their separation. Mary Jo did not have the heart to upset the poor dear. Ricco also told Mary Jo to get rid of the rabbits.

She first realized she was not following orders when she placed their cage between two of her suitcases and made sure the bunnies had water. She closed the back door of the van, smiled at the landlady and slipped into the front seat. When she turned on the ignition, without Ricco in sight, Mary Jo knew where she was headed and it was not down town to be humiliated in front of Robert Koelz.

Mary Jo had driven carefully down Stadium to Washtenaw Avenue out to Route 23, thinking at any minute Ricco would ram her van and force her off the road. She planned to keep going anyway and hoped a police car would stop, at least Ricco. On the ramp, headed south, she sang, “So long. It’s been good to know you. So long. It’s been good to know you.” But it was not good to have known Ricco. She would miss Robert, but Mary Jo was gone, out of Ricco’s immediate realm of terror.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Mary Jo discovered the hitchhiker’s theft when she opened the van Monday night in Orlando. She accepted a portion of blame. She should never have been so open with the kid. After he told her about his parents’ cruelty, throwing him out of the house for changing the television channel, Mary Jo revealed she was running away from home, too. Of course, he assumed she packed her most precious possessions. She would miss her mother’s opal ring more than the necklace and earrings purchased to complement them. Luckily, the hitchhiker passed over the shoulder satchel behind the passenger’s seat. Plastic bags of trail mix were stuffed on top of her wallet, which was jammed with high-limit credit cards. She applied for the cards in her maiden name, without Ricco’s knowledge.

She had married right out of high school, fresh from the protection of her parents. She trusted Ricco had wanted as large a family as she did. After a series of severe beatings and a visit to Cindy Nelson’s safe house in St. Charles, Mary Jo’s plans to escape included practical schemes.

Her mother’s death six months earlier precipitated her final decision. Ricco had refused to accompany her to the funeral. Her mother wisely set up a bank account in Orlando for her legacy to be automatically deposited with Mary Jo’s social security number. Ricco never suspected her mother squirreled away a sizable fortune, because she lived amidst the trappings of poverty--a small house-trailer, no car, no show of money, even her mother’s food consisted mostly of leftovers. Mary Jo omitted her husband’s cruelty when speaking to her mother.

After her mother passed over to the all-knowing side of the universe, Mary Jo was sure her mother understood everything. She would finally be aware of the reasons why her only daughter did not visit as often as she wanted to. Mary Jo did not attend her aunts’ funerals in
Vero Beach and Tampa. Too many bruises and the resulting sense of shame for marrying Ricco without full knowledge of his background created her rationale for avoiding Florida visits. Now she knew a man’s past was relevant.

Nevertheless, with flush accounts in
Orlando and Phoenix in banks near the airports and a complete deck of credit cards, a new confidence and an albeit-shifting sense of security possessed Mary Jo. Her mother’s foresight supported her continued flight. Relying on her own resources for the first time caused most of her anxiety. Happiness was not guaranteed in married life. Her future lay unknown before her. She was determined to come to her own aid and be responsible for her own emotional landscape.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Orlando to Arizona

Second Saturday in September

After paying cash for rent on a condo and working for a week in Orlando’s Wal-Mart, Mary Jo spotted Sally Bianco entering Wal-Mart. Mary Jo slipped out the rear entrance jumped in her van and headed straight for Phoenix without bothering to pack up the condominium. She had kept the bunnies in the van so she could feed them during her lunch hour. Her mother’s money was a blessing, but Mary Jo planned to work and pay her own way in the world. She hoped she was doing the right thing by running away again. She was shaken. Had Ricco convinced a friend of Robert’s to hunt her down? She did not blame Sally. Her husband’s craftiness was boundless. Any lie would do.

Before she fled
St. Charles, Illinois, the man who sold Mary Jo the pistol and license without waiting for clearance, appreciated the significance of the ugly marks on her neck. He owned a Polaroid and asked if she needed pictures for evidence. Three colored prints rested in the glove compartment of the van under the cold gun. Even without the violence, Mary Jo recognized she should have left her husband even earlier. Ricco avoided seeing her nude before intercourse. He claimed the dark helped him get excited. If he needed help, Mary Jo thought he should forego the effort.

With a full tank of gas and the wheels of the van humming along, the engine nearly sang as it cleaned out carbon deposits on the cylinders. Moving down the road, made it easier for Mary Jo to examine the man she married. Ricco’s male friends were too devoted to him. At first, she misjudged their need to hunt, fish, boat and attend baseball, football, basketball, and wrestling matches each and every weekend as normal male bonding behavior.

One frail chap came to their first apartment, standing as close to Ricco as possible without actually embracing him, staring up into Ricco’s face. The conversation was normal: work, sports, their next hunting trip. However, the next day, the boy hung himself in the cellar of his apartment. When they heard about the suicide, Ricco was not upset. He refused to talk about the tragedy.

Within a month of moving into a
St. Charles housing development, when Sally was beginning to know their neighbors, one man visited the Cardonè household to say good-bye to Ricco. The handsome neighbor ignored Sally entirely. He made a determined effort not to look at her. She was sitting in the dining room in full view of the entrance door.

The neighbor’s wife remained behind to sell their home. She informed Mary Jo Ricco was the closest friend her husband ever made and was the reason they were leaving. When Mary Jo mentioned the hint of a homosexual relationship to her husband, she received her first beating and a passionless display of manhood in bed.

On the road, with Phoenix as an ultimate destination, Mary Jo’s acquaintances in Ann Arbor came to mind. The men and women in Robert’s bookshop never lacked for subjects of discussion. She remembered thanking Robert after several visits for his long conversations with her. “You’ve spoken more to me these last few days than my husband did the entire time I lived with him.”

Robert stroked his mustache, pleased. “Conversation is, after all, intercourse.”

His kindly voice and an invitation to his room encouraged her attempt at seduction. He said he decided not to take advantage of her vulnerability. She admitted her heightened sexual drive developed after she left Ricco, probably to prove she was attractive to heterosexuals. Mrs. Clankton’s 3:00 a.m. visit mortified her. The immediate need for using the facilities caused Mary Jo to at least shut the bathroom door, but she failed to turn the lock, as any decent person should in a stranger’s house.

The roads of
Florida, Alabama, and Mississippi melted away the worst of Mary Jo’s fears. She drove the breadth of Texas the second September Saturday night.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Coldwater, Arizona

Second Sunday in September

Sunday morning in Arizona, Mary Jo hoped the Courtyard Motel in Coldwater might be a pleasant place to hang out. She did not mention the bunnies to the hotel clerk. No one helped with her luggage. Crouched in the van, she efficiently switched the bunnies from their cage to a pet carrying case. After depositing them in the bathtub with an emptied box of salad greens, she folded up their cage, emptied the litter box in the hotel’s dumpster, and re-provisioned their cage next to her bed. Mary Jo hoped the maid would think she received clearance for her pets.

The smallest, and happiest, bunny scurried past Mary Jo’s feet as she tried to fetch the rabbits from the bathroom. An entire hour of flipping towels in the little devil’s general direction finally wore the rabbit out. Or, the rabbit pitied her owner enough to stay perfectly still under the towel until Mary Jo could climb over the bed to reach her. The brown, calmer rabbit was transported from the bathroom to the metal cage, once Mary Jo refilled the carrying case with timothy hay and kale.

Two swimming pools promised she could escape any crowd or family group. The marks on her neck were pretty well hidden under pancake makeup. She needed to exercise her travel-weary muscles without encouraging any acquaintances.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Coldwater to Jerome, Arizona

Third Monday in September

One day of peace was gained before Mary Jo noticed the same smiling faces were showing up too often near her table in the restaurant, hanging around the pool, or stationed in the lobby. If they were not interested in her personally, which she did not need at the moment, they could have been private detectives, waiting for Ricco to arrive.

One of the older men summoned up his courage with what looked like a glass of white wine but smelled like gin. He approached her with a straightforward line. “Are you someone I can ask out?”

Mary Jo lowered her eyes. “Waiting for my husband to join me.”

So Monday night she packed up the bunnies and the few items purchased at
Orlando’s Wal-Mart. She headed for Jerome, Arizona, a touristy, abandoned mining town in the mountains to the north of Coldwater. One night’s stay in the upstairs guest bedroom of a mystic, crystal healer of questionable, friendly motives provoked her continued flight.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Reservation, Arizona,

Third Tuesday in September

A rental log cabin on the reservation north of Lake Chekobee seemed remote enough for Mary Jo on Tuesday night. George Dade, the landlord, asked if she needed food stamps before she handed him the first month’s rent in cash. “No.” Mary Jo could feel her blush of embarrassment. “I have a bit of money. I need to be alone.”

“A writer, then?” George sized her up.

“Just a dreamer.”

“Good place for dreams. I could build you a sweat lodge.”

“In time.” Mary Jo bowed her head, not wanting him to see her eyes. She knew he thought she was on some sort of mystical or spiritual quest. Well maybe she was. Mary Jo lifted her head and looked straight into his deep black eyes. “I need to rest.”

“Supplies are a mile away.” George pointed to the north. “Give them my name as a reference.” Mary Jo extended her hand for him to shake. Instead, George gave her a bear hug, lifting her from the floor. “You are welcome here. My wife will be over shortly with a loaf of bread and a bottle of wine.”

“Thank you.” Mary Jo felt somehow steadied by the friendly attack and the knowledge the giant’s wife knew where he was. As she turned away from her new cabin’s door, her eyes tried to focus through her tear-filled eyes on the unlit logs in the fireplace. After transporting the rabbits’ cage inside and tending to their needs, she set about lighting the fire. It was not at all cold. She knew she would nap and let the fire go out, but she needed to make the place hers for however short a time she was allowed to stay put.