Save Me (25 page)

Chapter Fifty-nine

Rose parked outside of Mojo’s house, surprised. It was a fieldstone mansion, with a grand front door and a huge stone wing on either side. Tall trees surrounded the property in back, forming a screen of autumn color, and the house sat atop a steep hill, so far off the street she didn’t have to worry about being spotted. She guessed she was looking at a $1.5 million house and she was practically an expert. She’d done the shopping for the house in Reesburgh and reading the MLS listings was her idea of online porn.

She didn’t get it. Mojo had spent the last four years working for the state of Maryland and only six months at Campanile. Even if he was making a fortune now, how could he afford this house? What kind of security director had a multi-million-dollar house? What kind of state employee? Her phone interrupted her reverie, signaling she was getting a text. She picked it up and pressed to the text function. It was Leo:

Sorry, I’m too busy to call back. You okay?

Rose sighed. It wasn’t warm and fuzzy, but at least she was still married. She hit REPLY.

Yes. Take care. Love, Me.

She checked the dashboard clock: 7:15 P.M. The sky was darkening, and she could feel the air cooling through the open window. Her thoughts turned to Melly and John, and she called Gabriella, who picked up after one ring.

“Rose, how are you, my dear? Getting things done?”

“Yes, thanks. How are you holding up?”

“We’re all wonderful. Melly is out with Mo again, and John is fine, too. He discovered my bracelet, which amused him endlessly. He has expensive tastes.”

Rose eyed Mojo’s house. “I’m not finished just yet. Can you hang in another day or two, and I’ll keep you posted?”

“I hope you let us keep them until the weekend. Melly is making a garden with Mo. Wait’ll you see it.”

“Thanks so much,” Rose said, grateful. “I really appreciate this.”

“We know, now let me go. I have a baby to teach to say Grandma. Love you, bye.”

“You, too.” Rose pressed END, watching darkness fall. She felt at a loss, eyeing the house. She was so used to bouncing ideas off Leo, and it was hard to do all the thinking a cappella. Her gaze fell on the next-to-last text, which she hadn’t heard when it came in. It was from Annie.

What’s this about Thomas Pelal? Please call. You need me now.

Rose went to her phone log, found Annie’s number, and pressed CALL.

Chapter Sixty

Rose sat opposite Annie in a chair, next to a room-service table covered with the remains of roasted chicken. The aroma of rosemary filled the small hotel room, and its window overlooked the lights of Philadelphia and the Delaware River, black and thick as a python. She’d told Annie all about Thomas Pelal, bringing them both to tears, then caught her up on everything else, including Mojo’s mansion.

“Well, well, well.” Annie scratched her head, her blunt fingernails disappearing in her little corkscrews. “This Mojo guy is wack. He needs a gun, for what? To protect copper piping?”

“I know.” Rose hugged her knees to her chest, finally feeling validated. “So I’m not nuts?”

“No, I think he’s fishy, too, and it worries me, for your safety.” Annie shifted in the patterned chair, tugging the hem of a white sundress over her sleek legs. Her feet were bare, her toenails bright red. “I get that you don’t have enough evidence to go to the State Police with, but why don’t you hire a private detective? That would be safer.”

“I’d have to find one, and right now, I feel like I know what I’m doing and I want to do it myself. I want to get to the bottom of it, and somehow I think I’m the only one who can.”

“What if something else is going on, with you?” Annie pursed her lips. “What if you’re feeling so guilty about Amanda that you’re trying to find some nefarious cause of the fire, so nobody thinks it’s your fault?”

“No, I wish the town didn’t hate me, but that’s not it. It’s not about me, Amanda, or even Melly.”

“Are you trying to make up for what happened that night, with Thomas Pelal?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about him, Rose?” Annie cocked her head, her tone gentle. “I wouldn’t have judged you. It could have happened to anybody.”

“I was ashamed, embarrassed. It’s horrifying.” Rose ran her fingers through her hair. “But I finally let him go. I’ll always mourn him, but that’s something different.”

“I get that.” Annie tilted her heard backwards, appraising Rose with calm, dark eyes. “You know, I see a change in you. You’re digging in. Trying to get to what’s really going on.”

“Instead of running away?”

“Yes.” Annie smiled softly. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks,” Rose said, touched.

“The only problem is, I’m also worried.” Annie pursed her lips. “These dudes don’t play. I don’t like you spying on them, and they won’t either.”

“I know.” Rose had been starting to worry, too. She was a mother, and the sight of Mojo’s gun stuck in her mind.

Annie brightened. “I have an idea. You’re staying the night here, aren’t you? I have the extra bed.”

“I’d like to, if you don’t mind. I don’t want to go home to Reesburgh. I’m kind of betwixt and between.” Rose knew what the real problem was. “I hate when Leo and I are in a fight.”

“I feel you.” Annie shook her head, with a smile. “Look at us. Wild girls turned wives.”

“I know, right?” Rose thought ahead to seeing Leo, not knowing how that would work, then getting Melly back to school, and not knowing how that would work, either. “All of a sudden, I don’t fit into my old life.”

“You never did, girl. Now, you finally have a chance. Make a life that fits you. Leo will come around. It’s a rough patch, is all. That’s marriage.”

“We’ll see.” Rose knew it was more complicated than that. “We have to change a few things, both of us.”

“That’s just what I was thinking.” Annie stood up, newly energized. “I can help you with that.”

“How?”

“Get up. You’re staying the night, and we need to get started.” Annie was already in motion, heading toward her black bags, stacked up like blocks near the luggage carrier.

“What’s going on?”

“You’ll see.”

Chapter Sixty-one

Rose kept her eyes closed, while Annie worked her magic. The built-in vanity was covered with powders, blushes, mascara wands, used Q-tips, and little wedges of white sponges, like tiny pieces of wedding cakes. They’d done the major stuff last night and were putting on the final touches this morning. The hotel room was sunny and bright, and
The Today Show
played in the background, with Meredith Viera interviewing a French chef.

“You almost finished?” Rose sipped her cooling coffee, her eyes shut. They’d had another room-service meal, and she was ready to get going. She had already figured out her next move.

“Now lift your eyebrows, but don’t open your eyes. Two minutes until reveal.”

Rose felt the pencil filling in her brows. “It doesn’t have to be perfect.”

“Be still, or I’ll make you wear the fake nose.”

“I don’t need a fake nose.”

“So what? I make the best noses in the business. It’s a shame you don’t need one. It’s like ordering the salmon, in a steak house.”

“No nose. Hurry.”

“Okay, you’re a masterpiece. Open your eyes.”

“Amazing!” Rose looked at her reflection and almost didn’t recognize herself. Her long dark hair was gone, dyed a warm red and cut into feathered layers that skimmed her ears. Annie had reshaped her eyebrows, changing their color to a red-brown, and darkening her skin with foundation. Nobody would recognize her from the TV or newspaper, and that was exactly what she needed for her plans today. She set down her coffee. “Thank you so much!”

“One more thing. Wear these.” Annie handed her a pair of large eyeglasses, in pink plastic. “Heinous, right?”

“Yikes.” Rose put the glasses on. “Where did you get these?”

“A vintage store in the Village. They’re circa 1982. Now you’re ready for Main Street, Anywhere, USA. Your distinctive natural beauty is gone, and you’re completely forgettable.”

“This is great.”

“You’re welcome.” Annie put the eye pencil back. “Are your Band-Aids okay?”

“Yes, thanks.” Rose checked her hand and ankle. The burns were healing nicely, and they’d gotten rid of her bandages.

“Now, please be careful and stay in touch. And don’t wear your sunglasses anymore. People look longer at people in sunglasses. Love your hair.”

“Me, too.” Rose shook her head, like Googie drying off. “I feel so free!”

“Every woman does.” Annie gathered up her compacts. “Only women equate a haircut with freedom. We’re free, ladies. We can vote now.”

Rose gave her a good-bye hug. “Mind if I leave you to clean up?”

“No worries. Go get ’em, tiger.”

“I’m off.” Rose went for her purse, but stopped short when she saw the TV. A local newsbreak had come on, and Tanya Robertson’s face filled the screen. On the screen behind Tanya was a school photo of Amanda Gigot. Annie came up from behind, and they both stood watching the news, neither saying anything.

Oh no. Please be alive.

Tanya said, “Young Amanda Gigot remains in a coma, fighting for her life this morning, while the town of Reesburgh reacts this morning to the official report of the county Fire Chief, who has ruled that the school fire was accidental. Students went back for their first full day on Tuesday, and plans are in place to rebuild the cafeteria, as life returns to normal in this lovely community, torn by tragedy and discord.”

Rose shook her head. “They’re not even looking for anything intentional.”

On the TV, Tanya continued, “The District Attorney’s Office reports that they are continuing their investigation, and indictments in connection with the school fire and Amanda Gigot’s injuries will follow as soon as they are complete.”

“That means me,” Rose said, newly worried, and Annie clapped her on the back.

“Get going, and prove ’em all wrong.”

“On it!” Rose grabbed her bag, rallying, and fifteen minutes later, she was back in the car, driving south on I-95. The sun was rising, the sky clear, and the road lay open ahead of her. Her short hair fluttered in the wind, and her resolve was stronger than ever.

She’d be there in two hours.

Chapter Sixty-two

Rose pushed up her fake glasses and walked up to the counter, holding a steno pad she’d bought at a drugstore down the street. The office of the Maryland Occupational Safety & Health Administration was small and cluttered, with an old-fashioned coat rack, a fake ficus plant, and an umbrella stand. Mismatched government-issue chairs were grouped in the waiting area around a rickety coffee table covered with stacks of Maryland Department of Labor forms, a multi-colored brochure entitled
Workplace Safety and YOU,
and a beat-up copy of
People
magazine.

“May I help you?” asked an older African-American woman behind the counter, smiling in a sweet way.

“Hi, I’m Annie Adler.” Rose was sure this was going to be her last lie, but it was hard to quit cold turkey. Maybe if they had a patch, or something. “Joe Modjeska sent me. You know, Mojo? He worked here, until about six months ago.”

“Mojo! Of course, how is he? I love that man.”

“He’s doing great, working for Campanile, just over the border, in Pennsylvania.”

“I know. He always said he was meant for better things. A big man with a personality to match.”

“Tell me about it. He shoots a sixty-three now, and it’s all he talks about.”

“Golf, golf, golf! That man
lived
for golf!”

“Don’t they all? Me, I live for shoes.”

“Ha!” The woman extended a hand over the counter. “I’m Julie Port. How can I help you?”

“I’m a writer for
Hunt Country Life,
a magazine in southern Pennsylvania, where Mojo lives.” Rose brandished her steno pad. “We’re doing a short profile on him, and I wonder if I can ask you a question or two. He said you might not mind, and the good press would help him out.”

“Sure enough.” Julie checked the waiting room, which was empty. “We’re not busy today, and I can take a couple minutes. If it helps Mojo, I’m in.” She moved to the side, opened a swinging door in the counter, and gestured. “Come with me. We’ll go in the break room.”

“Thanks.” Rose followed her past a few workers talking on the phone and typing on computer keyboards, then they went down a hall to a lunchroom with round Formica tables, hard plastic chairs, and a bank of vending machines.

“Please, make yourself comfortable.” Julie waved her into a chair, sitting down.

“Thanks.” Rose took a seat, put her steno pad on the table, flipped it open to the first page, and slid a pen from her purse. “Now, he began working here about five years ago. He was at Homestead before that, wasn’t he? In Reesburgh?”

“Yes, he was. He was their Director of Safety.” Julie’s face fell into lines, her jowls draping her lipsticked mouth. “He took it very hard.”

“What did he take hard?” Rose didn’t know what she meant.

“He blamed himself, but it wasn’t his fault, any of it.” Julie clucked. “Forklift accidents are among the most common, and it wasn’t his fault that that man died.”

Whoa.
Rose realized she meant Bill Gigot. “Mojo has such a big heart.”

“He surely does, and he was an excellent safety manager, I’m positive of that. He’s very diligent.”

“That sounds like him.”

“Yes, and from what he told me, the lighting was insufficient in the loading area where the man worked, and he wasn’t real experienced with the forklift. In fact, Mojo got him a job in the peanut building.”

Rose made rapid notes, for real. “Peanut building?”

“Where they made the peanut butter crackers. They had to use dedicated equipment and such, to protect people with peanut allergies. It’s FDA and state regs.”

“So you were saying.”

“Anyway, to get back to the story, the man didn’t have enough experience operating a forklift. Also, they require forklift travel lanes and the like. You can’t play fast and loose with a forklift.”

“Of course not.” Rose kept making notes.

“Mojo didn’t like to talk about what happened, but I could tell how sad he was, inside. The man went over the side of the loading dock, killed when his head hit the floor. Mojo found him, on his rounds.” Julie clucked. “He made sure the man’s widow got herself a nice check without even having to file or sue.”

“So that’s the kind of man he is, huh?” Rose made another note, and Julie shook her head.

“No good deed goes unpunished, though. Before you know it, Mojo’s tossed out.”

“Oh no.” Rose lowered her voice. “They fired him?”

“I think they asked for his resignation, you know how they do. But he was too proud to let on, with me.” Julie frowned. “Don’t put that in your story, okay?”

“None of this will be in, I promise.” Rose suppressed a guilty pang.

“Thanks.” Julie nodded. “Tell you somethin’ else about him. He came in as a director after his training, but he never lorded it over anybody.”

“What did he do here?”

“Oh, right. You might not know, because the compliance offices in Pennsylvania are run by the feds.” Julie cleared her throat. “Well, OSHA, the Occupational Safety and Health Administration, administers workforce safety out of D.C. But some states, like Maryland, have their own compliance agencies, too.”

“I see.” Rose took notes, and Julie warmed to her topic.

“We cooperate with the feds, and we work hard to ensure that every man and woman in the state has safe and healthful working conditions.”

“So Mojo came here after his training. Where did he train?”

“Baltimore, with everybody else.”

“Why did he need training, if he’d been a safety manager at Homestead?”

“That’s what
he
said!” Julie laughed. “We train anyway, and he didn’t know the way we do things down here.”

Rose thought a minute. “I didn’t ask him, but was he a Maryland resident then?”

“No, he had to move here.”

Rose hesitated, and Julie leaned over.

“Next, you’re gonna ask me how he got the job, and that I don’t know. He moved to Harford County, just over the state line. I knew he wouldn’t stay forever. He wanted to go back to Pennsylvania, and they were building the house. You’ve seen that place of his?”

“Yes, that’s where I interviewed him.”

“His wife’s family, they got money. That, he told me.” Julie leaned over again. “How else you think he could afford to build custom, especially from that fancy company? He liked it so much, that’s who he went to work for.”

“Campanile.” Rose made a fake note, and suddenly a fluorescent light began to flicker overhead.

“Uh-oh!” Julie looked up, curled her lip in annoyance. “Here we go again. Building Maintenance’s gotta come change that bulb. I don’t know how to do fluorescents, you know, those long, skinny ones.”

“Me, neither.”

“Mojo wouldn’t have any of that, of course. If he was here, he’d get on a ladder, grab a screwdriver, take off that panel, and change that bulb himself, no waiting.” Julie nodded. “Mojo can fix anything.”

“Even lights?”

“Sure enough. That’s something else you probably don’t know about Mojo. You can put it in your article.”

“What?”

“He’s a master electrician.”