Despite my credentials and my college degree, Vic, the managing editor, felt it would be best if I shadowed Sally for a day or two to get a feel for things. The woman didn’t type one single word the entire day. She gossiped. She chatted. She would occasionally jot a note or two down in her steno pad between large puffs from her cigarette. When she exhaled, she let loose large billows of white smoke like a dragon. It was a sight to behold, really. Disgusting, but a sight nonetheless.
The entire time that I watched Sally prattle on with her sorry excuse for a job, all I could think about was her words when we had met. Deep down, I knew she was right. With such sinfully handsome features, girls had to flock to Frankie like hungry wolves over the last remaining piece of meat. Who was I? I was just a simple girl from Nebraska, trying to live her dream. I was not the type of girl Frankie would fall for.
I felt another little piece of my heart break. I needed to find H.M. Goodrich’s murderer and fast, or there wouldn’t be any pieces left to take to Chicago with me.
And speaking of the Goodrich’s—my boring, monotonous day took a turn for the worse by Sally’s lunch announcement. We were going to the Butterfly Café just down the road to meet with Cedar Rapids’ newest, wealthy widow, Vivian Goodrich. She picked up her clutch promptly at noon and sashayed down the stairs and out the front door of The Gazette. I picked up my own purse and trudged behind her.
The daggers of ice that struck me as Sally and I stepped into the small, quaint restaurant nearly knocked me off my feet. It was clear that I was the last person Vivian Goodrich wished to see, being as I was the girl who had freed her husband’s supposed murderer.
However, as I followed behind Sally and took a seat at the table where Vivian was nursing a glass of iced tea, I detected something in her eyes that was more than fury. I frowned. I had seen something similar at school exchanged between the girls in my dorm, especially when there was a man involved. Jealousy. But why would Vivian Goodrich be jealous of me? She was one of the wealthiest women in town. What did I have that she would covet?
Throughout lunch, Vivian never took her eyes off me. She wailed loudly about her house burning to the ground then her husband being brutally murdered by that horrible, Irish man at the hotel. Her shrill voice echoed off the walls of the café, demanding the attention of every patron eating there that afternoon.
I took a deep breath to keep my temper from peaking. It was taking all my willpower to keep from exploding. By the smirk plastered on Vivian’s face, she knew. And she was ready to exploit it.
Vivian took a sip of her iced tea then set the glass on the table. She glared at me. “How is your conscience, sweetie?”
I swallowed back a snarl. “My name is Olivia, not ‘sweetie.’ And my conscience is just fine, thank you.”
“Really? You set a murderer free. I would think you would have some sort of remorse for my husband’s death.”
“Frankie O’Carney is not a murderer.” I spat each word out for emphasis.
“You weren’t there, sweetie.”
I bristled at Vivian calling me “sweetie” again. “Were you? Did you see him pull the trigger?”
This time it was Vivian’s turn to stiffen. Her aggravated huff meant only one thing—she hadn’t witnessed the murder, either. An evil grin crossed her lips. “You aren’t falling for him, are you?”
I swallowed hard. “Of course not.”
“Liar. I’ve seen you eating with him, walking with him. I saw him kiss you in the hallway.”
“I told her what a heartbreaker Frankie O’Carney is,” Sally interjected. “She wouldn’t listen to me.”
Vivian slowly studied me from head to the top of the table. “You see, sweetie, Frankie O’Carney is accustomed to a higher quality of woman than you.”
I growled. She had no idea what kind of woman I was. And she certainly didn’t sound like the grieving widow she had made herself out to be just minutes ago. “You don’t need to worry about me, Mrs. Goodrich. I believe we’re here to talk about you, aren’t we?”
Vivian flashed me a condescending smile before she began chatting with Sally again. I watched them, ever so tempted to tell Vivian Goodrich exactly what I thought of her. I bit my tongue…literally. If I spoke my peace, Sally would tattle on me to Vic, and I would be out of a job. I hid my frustrated sigh in my glass of water as I took a drink.
I couldn’t concentrate on a word Sally said the rest of the day and was relieved when quitting time arrived. My heart was in knots. My mind reasoned that there was no way possible that Frankie could have feelings for me. My soul believed differently. How could he kiss me like that and not feel something?
I slipped out the front door of The Gazette and turned toward Third Avenue. I’d be back at Hotel Montrose in no time. Maybe I would pen a letter home to Pa and Ma. I hadn’t said a peep to them since I left. I needed to let them know where I was and how I was doing.
I didn’t take more than two steps before Frankie’s voice stopped me in my tracks, “Again, Livvy, where do you think you’re going?”
I stared at him, leaning against the wall of the building just as he had greeted me this morning at the hotel. My heart and mind were a swirling mess of confusion. Did he want me? Or was it all in my mind?
Frankie’s eyes drew to slits as he crossed his powerful arms over his chest, marring his skin with the grease on his overalls. “Livvy, where are you going?” he demanded again.
My voice was nearly a whine when I answered him, “I’m going back to the hotel to write a letter home. Why do you need to know where I am every single minute of the day?”
He took a step forward, towering over me with his large frame. My gaze instantly focused on his lips, my mind reliving his sweet kiss. A shiver ran up my spine. He took my hand in his. “I thought I made myself clear this morning. Someone tried to take your life. If they try it again, they’re going to have to get through me first.”
I was awestruck by Frankie’s protective nature. I was even more stunned by his chatty disposition as we strolled along, enjoying the summer evening hand-in-hand. He asked me about my day. I had no desire to relate any of it, especially my lunch with Vivian Goodrich. Knowing I had dined with the woman who had accused him of murder would most likely not settle well with him.
The frown on Frankie’s face told me that he sensed something had happened.
He quickly changed the subject by telling me every single thing that had occurred at Hotel Montrose since I had left. He related the—at least half dozen—arguments he had gotten into with Ed. He gossiped about the couple of other people who called the hotel home, not leaving out any salacious details. I blushed. I never knew the man and woman down the hall from me were having an affair. Frankie must have saw the red tint in my cheeks, because he burst out laughing.
Frankie kissed me on the cheek again outside the hotel, after explaining to me he couldn’t spend the rest of the evening with me. His mother, aunt, and sister were planning a big dinner and had scolded him for not being home to eat the previous nights. I waved goodbye as he strode down the street. Then, with a hopeless sigh, I slipped inside to write my letter.
I only stayed in my room for an hour. The summer night was beckoning me to come explore the city. I changed into more comfortable clothing then escaped into the thick humidity outside.
I walked along the sidewalk, taking in the couples hopping in and out of restaurants. Several people were congregated outside the Paramount Theater, waiting for a show to start. I smiled at the activity. It definitely wasn’t Chicago, but I still loved it.
My meandering took me to the Cedar River. The setting sun glistened off the water beneath me as I leaned over the rail. I was so immersed in the beauty of it that I never heard the footsteps behind me until it was too late. A force slammed into me, sending me over the banister. I didn’t remember falling until the Cedar River swallowed me whole.
Chapter Three
I struggled against the brute force of the river, gasping for breath ev
ery time my head broke the surface of the water. The bank was too far away for me to swim toward. I was sure I heard Frankie’s voice from somewhere. But he was having dinner with his mother and sister. In this hour of my death, was I imagining things?
As the rapids pulled me under again, I remembered his words from earlier, the sound of his slight brogue giving me shivers the water couldn’t—”if anyone tries to kill you again, they’ll have to go through me first.” Why hadn’t I listened to him and just stayed in my hotel room?
A dull ache filled my limbs. My lungs burned with unquenchable fire. I felt my head float from my body. Was this what it felt like to die? Slowly, everything went black as if I was falling asleep. I could no longer sense the water enshrouding me. I felt nothing but cold.
The next thing I knew I was coughing violently, my body shaking with each explosive exhale. The soft grass beneath me was warm and comforting. I only laid there for a brief moment. A pair of strong arms ripped me from the ground and crushed me against a soaked, hard chest. Loud, rough, panicked breaths echoed in my ears. I didn’t even look at who held me. I just buried myself deeper in his embrace.
“Olivia, lass. I told you to stay in the hotel,” Frankie growled. “What in blue blazes were you doing out?”
“I was enjoying the night,” I protested weakly.
“And you almost died for it. Again. Was it worth your stroll?”
I didn’t know what to say to him. I just cuddled closer. He shook in my arms, as I knew I did in his. Was it the chill from the water, anger…or terror? I wished I knew.
Once our nerves had settled, Frankie insisted I be seen by the doctor. He helped me to my feet and wrapped his arms around me for support. We struggled in our awkward, wet embrace for a block before Frankie found a friend standing next to a sleek, silver Plymouth. Frankie helped me into the back then climbed into the passenger seat. I gasped as his friend tore from the curb and raced toward the hospital. I obviously had no need for an ambulance.
After a quick examination, the doctor insisted I stay for observation. Frankie walked me to my room, tucked me into bed, and pressed a soft goodnight kiss to my cheek. I watched as he shuffled away with his hands shoved in his pockets. My mind clouded.
He had told me he was going home for supper. How had he been there on the bridge with me? Had he been there for another reason? Did he shove me into the Cedar River? Once again, I wondered—did he try to kill me?
By the time the sun rose the next day, the doctor was ready to send me home. I hurried to dress for my walk back to Hotel Montrose. Before I left, I would have to find a telephone and call The Gazette. I was sure Vic wouldn’t be happy that I was going to be late on my second day of work. Would he even believe that I was nearly drowned?
I hadn’t been able to sleep all night. All I could think of was Frankie. I was falling for him, hard. But I was still confused as to why he had been on the bridge when he was supposed to be home having supper with his family. I shuddered. But it didn’t make sense that he would want me dead, especially when, by the light of day, he stole moments to kiss me.
My thoughts wandered to H.M. Goodrich’s murder. Frankie had been standing in the Goodrich’s room in a state of undress. He didn’t live in the hotel. So why had he been half-dressed in a hotel room that late at night? The answer would certainly explain Vivian’s comments at the Butterfly Café. And it was most definitely a motive. What kind of man was Frankie O’Carney?
“Well, Livvy. Are you ready to go?”
I spun on my toe. Standing in the doorway was Frankie, his large, sinfully handsome body leaning against the doorframe. His ice blue eyes glittered in the morning sunlight as it streamed through the hospital window. He was dressed in his overalls, a couple streaks of fresh oil declaring he had already been to work at the hotel. My breath caught in my throat, all my apprehensive thoughts disappearing.
I smiled at him. “Are you walking me back to the hotel?”
He laughed. “I borrowed Ed’s truck. I promise that it’ll be a far less adventurous ride than when Sam brought us here. Now, let’s get you back to the hotel, so you can relax.”
“No, Frankie. I need to get to work.”
“Do you realize you nearly died?”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “I nearly died when I was shoved in front of that trolley. I still went to work, didn’t I?”
He shook his head. “There really is no way of talking sense into you, is there?” He reached out his hand and captured mine. Then, he led me out of the hospital ward toward the stairs.
After finding a telephone to call Vic, I let Frankie lead me to Ed’s truck. He gently helped me inside, shutting the door behind me. Climbing into the driver’s side, he fired the machine to life.
All my thoughts jumbled in my head as we rumbled down the road. Before I knew it, my mouth opened and the words slipped out. I needed to know. “I thought you had a dinner with your mom, aunt, and Poppy last night. Why were you on the bridge?”
I watched Frankie carefully as he glanced at me from the corner of his eye. I noticed his shoulders roll back and his back straighten like a board. He didn’t like my question. “What does it matter why I was on the bridge?”
My voice came out as a quiet squeak as I curled up on the seat. “I just wanted to know.”
“Can’t keep that reporter in you down, huh?” Frankie let go a heavy sigh. “I missed you, Livvy. I ate quick, apologized to my family for running out on them, and jogged into town. I was heading to the Montrose to see you.”
I studied him hard, unsure if I could believe what he was saying. He was accused of being a murderer. He had a questionable reputation. He was certainly capable of lying. I felt my heart sink in my chest as I stared at his profile. His ice blue eyes reflected the sadness in his soul. I had seen him defiant before. I had never seen him like this. Did it bother him that I had questioned his honesty?
Once again, I couldn’t stop my actions. I reached across the truck and took his free hand. He resisted for a brief moment then wrapped his strong fingers around mine.
Frankie parked next to the rear door of the hotel and helped me from my seat. The entire way to my room, we bantered about whether or not I should go to work. I ended our disagreement with the slam of my door. Then, I changed into my last clean suit, pairing it with a floral blouse. I would need my laundry cleaned soon, but that was the least of my worries at the moment. Getting to work was my first priority.
I threw the door open to find Frankie leaning against the wall, a cross look etched on his face.
“You’re a stubborn woman, do you know that?” he sniped at me.
“Well then, we make the perfect pair, don’t we?” I snapped back.
He chuckled as he brushed an auburn curl from my shoulder then took my hand in his. He led me down the stairs, across the lobby, and out the front door. He was going to walk me to work if I liked it or not.
I was greeted by Vic’s loud roar as I stepped into the newsroom. At least it wasn’t aimed at me. “Bloody hell, Chuck! I wanted a decent news story about that broad who fell into the river last night. This is what you give me? This is garbage!”
Chuck, our resident news reporter, glanced at me. He didn’t seem bothered that his boss was screaming at him in the middle of all his colleagues. I guessed it wasn’t the first time. I sat down at my desk and quietly began to type. As “the broad who fell into the river,” I seemed to have the best handle on the story. A few moments later, I turned what I had written over to Vic. His brow crinkled as he read.
“Dang, Livvy,” he murmured. “This is a great story. You’re off the Society page. You’ve got your wish. You’re a news reporter now.”
The rest of my day at work was wonderful. I was shown to my new desk halfway across the newsroom from Sally. My days of watching the Dragon Lady filing her nails as she gossiped on the phone were over. Granted, I was now paired with Chuck. But since he did most of his investigative reporting from his favorite stool at the nearby bar
, I was sure he wouldn’t be bothering me much.
Best of all, I was finally getting to do what I loved. I wasn’t writing for the Chicago Tribune, but I was writing news. I couldn’t be happier than I was now.
I paused for a moment as a thought crossed my mind. Kissing Frankie would make me much happier. I giggled to myself as I went back to work.
Looking both ways as I stepped out of The Gazette, I frowned. Frankie had told me I was not to walk back to the Montrose by myself. Yet, he was nowhere to be found. I heaved a heavy sigh and started toward Third Avenue and the hotel. I jogged across the street then redirected my steps in the direction of the park to enjoy the summer sun.
Once there, I settled on a bench and smoothed my skirt. Closing my eyes, I lifted my face to the warm rays. I was quickly brought back to reality by something forcefully nudging my leg. I looked down into a pair of shiny, coal black eyes framed by a furry, gray face. I couldn’t make out what breed the pup was. Around the farm, we would have just called him a mutt. I petted his head, which he rested on my lap.
“So, here is where I find you. Did I not ask you to wait for me to walk you back to your room? How many times do you have to nearly die to get it through your head?”
Both the dog and I looked up at Frankie standing in the middle of the sidewalk with his hands clenched on his hips. He was intimidating. My new friend must have thought so, as well. He growled low as he rose up and planted himself in the middle of Frankie and me. Frankie glared at the mutt. “I see you made a new friend.”
I reached out and scratched the dog between the ears. “We need to find the poor thing’s home.”
“He’s a stray. He prowls the town. Why have you taken a fancy to him?”
“I guess I have a weakness for tramps.” I winked at him.
Frankie’s stare was icy for a moment. Then, he melted with a grin as he took a step toward me. “Should we go back to the hotel?”
The mutt stood up on all fours and bared his teeth. Frankie froze in his place. Neither of my fellas would win this stalemate. I would have to make peace between them. I stood, carefully stepped around the pup, and then wrapped my arms around Frankie’s shoulders. I trembled as I pulled him into a kiss. Frankie drew me closer as he deepened it.
Innocent 'til Proven Guilty Page 3
