Rohn Federbush - Sally Bianco 02 - The Appropriate Way

by Rohn Federbush

  “I was,” Peter said. “When she contracted AIDs, I stopped seeing her.”

  “Nice of you,” his wife said.

  “You people,” Tim Hanson said in a condescending tone.

  Sally shook her finger at him, but she didn’t quote the verse about throwing the first stone. Tim could certainly not defend his own behavior.

  “What was Bret’s relationship with Reeves,” Sheriff Woods asked.

  “Normal,” Matilda lied.

  Geraldine, her mother, caught the lie and turned in Matilda’s direction. Was it an unfamiliar tone or her daughter’s slightly elongated spacing of the pronunciation? “What was going on?” Geraldine asked.

  Matilda shook her head.

  Sheriff Woods said, “I was speculating, too. Why did Bret have a chain slip lock on the inside of his door?”

  “He didn’t like to be disturbed,” Matilda said.

  “Or interrupted?” her mother asked.

  Matilda broke down. She pointed at Tim. “I tried to tell him. Bret loved the castle more than me.”

  “Or a resident of the castle?” Tim asked. “You haven’t been straight with me since the day I met you. I need to apologize to your family for letting you use me.”

  “What a marvelous family,” Geraldine said. “What else?”

  “What do you mean, Mother.”

  “What else have you done?” Geraldine asked, standing in frustration. “You’re just like your father. I always know when you’re lying to me.” She turned to her husband. “That’s why you beat me, you idiot. I could see right through you.”

  Matilda said very quietly, “I put my keepsake box under Bret’s bed.”

  Sheriff Woods heard. “Why would you do that?”

  “I hoped if you thought Bret went crazy because of me,” Matilda pulled on her skirt for the fourteenth time. “You might be more lenient with him.”

  “Tim,” Sheriff Woods said, “Grab a phone and call Chicago. We won’t be needing lab reports on the contents of that box.”

  “Who did you think put the box under Bret’s bed?” Matilda asked.

  “His lover,” Tim told her. “J. K. Reeves.” Matilda’s hands strayed to her hair. Tim shook his head. He wasn’t buying anymore of her tricks.

  “Back to Enid,” Sally’s mind rejoined the case.

  “Enid was the dining room manager at the club.” Geraldine sat next to her daughter again.

  “You told us Enid claimed to be Peter’s lover,” Tim said.

  “My husband only goes for older women,” Geraldine said to Carolyn.

  “But did you know it at the time?” Sally asked.

  “I did not,” Geraldine said. “All I wanted was a divorce.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me,” her daughter asked.

  “I was going to, but I didn’t want to wreck your Holidays. I thought you were happy with the castle, the Christmas decorations, and Bret seemed content. It would ruin the season.”

  “It has,” Peter said.

  “And whose fault is that?” Geraldine yelled.

  Rev. Warner held up her hand for peace.

  “Matilda.” Sally stroked the cat in her lap. “When John and I came by to see the decorations and the castle, you were supposed to be meeting Tim at your mother’s house?”

  “Enid. I told Tim my folks were out of town. Mother was visiting my grandmother. Actually, I thought she planned to leave earlier in the morning. I wanted Enid to meet with Tim and me so she would shut up about our affair.”

  Sheriff Woods said, “Enid and Reeves were blackmailing most of the citizens in Wayne.”

  “Really,” Peter said. “By the way, where is Reeves?”

  “In Europe with Enid’s earnings,” Sally said.

  Matilda got up and went over to Sally. She knelt down next to her and placed her hands on the orange cat. The cat made an evil swipe at Matilda’s face, slashing a keen wound across her nose. “Ouch” Matilda yelled.

  Tim jumped up and deposited the cat which was on his lap onto the floor. Sally reached for her purse to find a handkerchief to stop the profusion of blood on Matilda’s face, which was rapidly dripping onto Matilda’s exquisite white blouse. Carolyn swooned onto the couch, effectively obstructing Peter from coming to his daughter’s aid.

  Geraldine reached Matilda first, halting the flow of blood with the hem of her maroon dress. “Lie down, dear. It’s not fatal.”

  Sheriff Woods looked at the wound. “Needs a few stitches. We don’t want your pretty face scarred.”

  Peter disengaged himself from Carolyn’s fake faint and knelt down next to his wife and daughter. “I’ll drive.”

  Geraldine brushed him aside. “We won’t be needing your help. Rev. Warner, will you take us to the hospital?”

  “The usual suspects are dwindling in number,” Sally said, as the three women left.

  Sheriff Woods shook his head at her. “Your daughter is out of the house, now. Mr. Masters, did you want to tell us about your affair with Reeves?”

  “Why not. He ruined my daughter’s happiness. I nailed down my own unhappiness.” Carolyn reached for him. “No. I’ll not add to my guilt.”

  “Does Reeves vacation in Paris or Rome?” Sally asked.

  “Rome. The priests with all their vows of celibacy are great targets.”

  “For blackmail?” Sally tried to maintain her sense of decorum.

  “We might need to question you further,” Sheriff Woods said to Peter and then to Carolyn. “after we extradite Reeves. So stay in town.”

  Peter walked out with them. “I won’t be staying here any longer. You can find me at the Pheasant Run Motel.”

  Sally thanked the Lord Peter had not chosen Hotel Baker for accommodations. “Who called you? At the police station?” Sally pulled her collar up against the cold.

  “On your cell phone?” Sheriff Woods blocked Peter’s access to his car.

  “Reeves,” Peter said. “He said whoever killed Enid would pay.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us?” Sheriff Woods asked. “He sent Bret to kill Sally and murdered her husband instead.”

  Peter shook his head. “I thought he was threatening Geraldine.”

  “This doesn’t make sense.” Sally was pretty sure the mention of John was letting her mind go fuzzy again.

  Peter took a step toward Sally, but Sheriff Woods intervened. “Time to go.” Sheriff Woods waved for Tim to come closer. “Sally wants to keep warm in the cruiser.”

  Tim guided Sally away, but they heard Peter curse. “A house-painter’s daughter defeated all of us.” He slammed the door of his car and drove away.

  Carolyn waved after him from the open door of her empty house. The silvery house lights spread over the snow, but the blackness of the winter night snuffed out any cheerful effect.

  “Do you envy the house, now?” Sheriff Woods asked Sally as he got behind the wheel of the police car.

  “I never envied her. I don’t think a house should be built on fraud.”

  Chapter Nine

  Hotel Baker

  Sally stretched out under the covers. Every bone in her body let her know the cold weather and the stress of interrogating all those people at the Montgomerys had caught up with her. She repeated the Lord’s Prayer and then recited the tenth step from AA’s Big Book to review her actions of the day.

  Was she angry? Yes. John was snuffed out by the consequences of three married couples’ infidelities.

  Was she resentful? No, but she recognized Tim’s ire stemmed from his strong resentment from being used by Matilda. Sally reminded herself she was taking Tim’s inventory instead of her own.

  Was she dishonest? No.

  Had she been fearful? Yes. Peter Masters’ anger had been frightening. She was in the Lord’s hands, under his protection and let her fear and anger dissipate as she meditated.

  Without changing her normal breathing, she counted from one to four, concentrating on the sound of the words in her mind. When her brain rebelled, she gently
guided her thoughts back to the tedious repetitions until the technique let her drift off to sleep.

  Sally dreamt a road construction crew busily replaced a section of broken pavement. At least twenty men removed orange road barriers, swept debris from the curbs, and concerned themselves with making the road smooth and drivable.

  ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

  Second Friday in January

  Sally planned to take a day of rest. She ordered room service at ten o’clock and was involved in making a list of loose ends to wrap up before she moved to Ann Arbor, when there was a knock on her door. Thinking room service wanted their dishes, she opened the door still in her bathrobe. Ginger gave a happy bark. Tim Hanson and his brother, Jeff, and his sister, Molly, stood in the hall. Ginger joined them in the hall.

  “Sorry.” Tim reached down to pet the dog. “I should have called ahead.”

  “Come in, come in. Ginger, behave. Retain a little dignity. I know you love the guy. I’ll call room service for you. Did you eat, Tim?”

  “He hasn’t even slept.” His sister pushed him into the room.

  “Just open the door for the staff, when they get here. I’ll be presentable in a minute.” Before she dressed, Sally made a quick call for the mountain of food necessary to feed three young people. No more black, she told herself. Life needed to go on. She chose a light blue sweater set with a pair of matching wool slacks.

  Black was assigned to her shoes. ‘God bless John’s soul,’ she prayed.

  Tim was finishing a last bite of bacon from his plate, when Sally returned “He won’t eat at home,” his big brother Jeff said. “We’re both worried about him.”

  “Tim, what’s going on?”

  “I’m sick.” Tim touched his own forehead for a temperature. “Maybe. I can’t think.”

  “What’s your predominant thought?” She poured herself a cup of coffee and joined the siblings in the small dining room.

  “Hurting Bret when I knocked him down at the castle.” Tim shook his head. “Do you think I might have caused a tumor to grow, or…?”

  “You haven’t rid yourself of the resentment you feel against Matilda.” Sally diagnosed.

  “Who wouldn’t be angry with her?” Tim shouted. Ginger barked at him.

  “Ginger, hush,” Sally ears hurt from all the noise.

  “Someone who admitted he was a party to the sin,” Molly said.

  Jeff’s gesture included his sister. “Molly and I accepted Jesus as our Savior. Tim refuses to believe his problems would be over if he did the same.”

  “In AA we’re taught to only talk about ourselves.” Prompted by her knowledge of AA’s spiritual steps, Sally relaxed “Jeff, explain to Tim why you thought it was necessary to personally search for the Lord’s way of life.”

  “Work was driving me crazy,” Jeff began. “If my co-workers and supervisors weren’t stealing my ideas outright, they found ways to undercut my decisions. They even sabotaged my test results.”

  “Jeff works in a safety laboratory for Federal Express,” Molly explained.

  “One night, I thought about stopping everything. Quitting. Finding another job in this economy seemed hopeless. I considered ending my life. I even thought about joining the army to die in combat. I was a wreck.” Jeff took his sister’s hand. “I complained to Molly and she told me about a new boyfriend of hers who challenged her to accept Jesus.”

  “My decision made all the difference in the world to me,” Molly said. “I treated my fiancée with new respect. My temper tantrums disappeared. I feel as if I’m stepping on new ground, every day.”

  “Safe ground,” Sally said. “What do you think, Tim?”

  “I don’t know.” Tim scratched his head. “Isn’t it just an easy way out of your troubles? Religion is called a crutch.”

  “Exactly,” Jeff, Molly, and Sally agreed.

  “Lord,” Tim said, as if he meant the call. “At this point I’ll try anything. What do I need to do?”

  “Is there a Gideon Bible here?” Jeff asked.

  “I’ll get it.” Sally returned to the bedroom. She found the bible in her bedside table, right where the Gideons placed it for just such an emergency. She handed the book to Molly. As Molly searched for the verse she wanted, Sally talked about her beliefs. “I first comprehended the peace, the oceanic swelling of the soul people write about, when I was in my twenties. At some point in my long life, I lost sight of my active trust in Jesus. Alcohol is a cunning adversary. Remember how Jesus was chastised for spending time with the winebibbers. I think he tried to understand how someone who is addicted wants to avoid the drug or drink but cannot control themselves, without divine intervention. After I was sober, I returned to the Lord.”

  “Here’s one,” Molly smiled at Tim. “They are legion in the bible.”

  “Okay,” Tim said. “Read it.”

  “Tim,” Sally advised. “Why don’t you read the verse and let your soul find its Maker?”

  “Shouldn’t I kneel down?” Tim asked.

  Jeff explained. “God loves you just the way you are, Tim. You present yourself to him the way that feels most comfortable.”

  Tim knelt down and placed the Bible on the seat of his chair. To accommodate his preference, his sister, brother, and Sally joined him in kneeling. “I am the door; by me if any man enter in, he shall be saved, and shall go in and out, and find pasture.” Tim read John 10:9 and then 10:11. “I am the good shepherd: the good shepherd giveth his life for the sheep.”

  “He is our Passover.” Sally evoked a part of the Episcopal communion prayer.

  Tim’s head was bent in prayer. Ginger was curled up at his knees. Molly and Jeff kept their silent vigil, as the Lord swept Tim’s sins away. “Amen.” Tim stood, then immediately sat down. “Thank you.”

  Jeff and Molly rose easily and resumed their chairs. Sally’s creaking knees complained. So, she used the chair to help her stand. “It’s best to take the Lord for your Savior, while you can still kneel down.”

  “I’m not being silly,” Tim said. “Or maybe I am. I feel lighter. I think the Lord took away a burden I could feel actually weighing me down. Now what?”

  “One day at a time.” Sally said and laughed.

  “I’m late for work. And I need to call Matilda at the castle.” Tim immediately headed for the phone.

  Sally was wondering if she should advise Tim not to encourage Matilda, when a knock was heard on her hotel door.

  With a nod from Sally, Jeff got up and answered the door. “Yes?”

  Sally could see the back of a girl in a grey sweatshirt and baggy jogging pants standing in the hall. When she heard Jeff’s voice, the girl started to walk away; but then stopped. As the disheveled woman turned around, Sally realized it was Matilda. Her face wore no makeup. Her hair looked like she just jumped out of bed.

  “Mother said to ask for Sally Nelson.” Without waiting for a reply, she wailed. “I’m pregnant!”

  Tim gently pushed past his brother and Sally and enclosed Matilda in his arms. “Matilda, everything is going to be fine, now.”

  Ginger looked once at Sally, whined and joined Tim and Matilda in the hall.

  “She’s Tim’s dog now,” Sally said.

  Jeff shut the door, leaving the dog and the young couple to their privacy in the hall.

  “The Lord giveth, too.” Molly handed the Gideon Bible back to Sally.

  ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

  Jeff and Molly Hanson were only gone a minute, when the phone rang. Sally’s first thought was that the Lord did not agreed to her day of rest. Sheriff Woods asked if Tim was with her.

  “How did you know?”

  “Gabby says you’re a safe harbor for a lot of people. I thought you should know, James Reeves was found.”

  “Are they sending him back?”

  “No, no need for that.” Before Sally could protest, he added, “He’s dead. He slit his wrists while he was in his bathtub.”

  “Just like a dishonored Roman citizen. Now we will n
ever learn why Bret shot my husband, unless you offer Bret a deal.”

  “For murdering John?”

  “I don’t think he meant to harm John. Tim or I were the intended targets. Would his lawyer let him tell us why he arrived with the gun, if the prosecutor settles for manslaughter?”

  “What would his brother think?”

  “I’ll ask him, before I come over. Could you ask the prosecutor, hypothetically?”

  ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

  James and Betty were at the front desk when Sally asked their approval for her plan. James nodded, but Betty was not buying any of it. “Never! I hope he gets the chair.”

  “Illinois no longer allows the death penalty,” Sally reminded her.

  “Then he can rot in jail.”

  “Vengeance won’t bring John back.” James held his weeping wife and nodded again. “Sally needs to find out the truth.

  ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

  Bret was brought into Sheriff Woods’ office in handcuffs. When he spotted Sally, he stepped back against his handler. “Why is she here?”

  “Why don’t you remove the handcuffs,” Sally said. “Bret, we’re offering you manslaughter instead of being tried for the first degree murder of my husband.”

  “Why?” Bret sat down rubbing his wrists from the impress of cold steel.

  Sheriff Woods answered. “We want to know what really happened. I’m sorry to tell you, we found James Reeves.” Bret’s posture changed. He showed his interest. Bret’s female lawyer reached for his hand. Sheriff Woods did not give Bret good news. “Reeves took his own life.”

  Bret’s body sunk into his prison garb, as if a balloon had deflated. “Gone, too.”

  “Please, Bret,” Sally pleaded. “I want to understand.”

  “You don’t care anything about me.” Bret face was red with anger. “You just want the bloody details.”

  “Take him back,” Sheriff Woods said, infuriated with the process.

  Sally held up her hand. “Ask your lawyer, Bret?”

  After a whispered, frenzied conversation, Bret sunk down further in his chair. “Okay. I’ll try to explain.”

  Sheriff Woods signaled for the stenographer to turn on her court-recording machine.

  Bret began, “I’m not a trusting person. I suppose people in my position find it difficult to put faith in anyone. All the lies I told, keeping them all straight wore me out. Of course, the lying made me suspicious of everyone else. I knew before I married Matilda that she and Tim were lovers. Actually, their affair helped sanction my own. The Masters were so nice to me. I know Geraldine didn’t realize I was gay, but I appreciated her sending James to me – probably to get him away from Peter.”