Frankie leaned closer and whispered into my ear, “Livvy, love. Who would you rather spend time with? Monty or me?”
I felt my cheeks grow warm. I had to be as red as the checkered tablecloth. My heart fluttered as he pressed a kiss to my cheek then led me to the table to play cards with his mother and aunt. Frankie’s mother poured me a glass of whiskey as his aunt shuffled the deck. She winked at me as she dealt to Frankie. I fought to suppress my laugh. The two women had been playing for hours. She must have known his hand wouldn’t get him anywhere.
It was well past midnight when Frankie walked me home. Monty trotted by my side as we softly talked. As we reached the door of the Montrose Hotel, Frankie tugged me to a halt.
“Why are we stopping here?” I questioned him.
“It wouldn’t be proper for me to walk you to your room at this late hour. I don’t want people getting the wrong impression of you.” Frankie drew me into his arms, placing a warm, soft kiss on my lips.
How could anyone think this man was a tramp? He was the warmest, most gentle man I ever met. I wished him good-night then ran to my room with Monty on my heels, sinking into my bed for a sweet night’s sleep.
The next day started bright and early with a message from the mayor at town hall. Being the only news reporter for The Gazette, Vic sent me on my way the second I stepped foot in building. I ran the best I could to city hall for the meeting.
A large crowd gathered in front of the tall, majestic building. I studied the beautiful stained glass window that graced the face of the structure as the city officials shuffled out. As the mayor cleared his throat and began to speak, I flipped open my steno pad and began to take notes. Those around me were listening intently to his words. Whatever he had to say seemed as if it would have a huge impact on this city.
No one noticed the man in the chocolate brown suit weave through the crowd. Not even me, until he grabbed my arm and pressed a knife to my throat.
All those standing around me gasped in terror, their stares focused on the blade against my neck. A silence fell over the gathering. Even the mayor had stopped speaking. The only sound was the gentle lapping of the waves of the Cedar River that ran on either side of the island where we stood.
The man tugged me through the mob, still scraping the weapon against my flesh.
My body reacted before my mind had time to think. I swung my elbow deep into his ribs. It was probably the stupidest thing I could have done. He easily could have slit my throat open.
Instead, the jab doubled the man over, allowing me to slip free. I scuttled across the grass as quickly as my shoes would allow while two large, burly men standing nearby restrained him. Moments later, deputies descended on the crowd. After making sure I was all right, they cuffed the man and dragged him to the jail.
For several long, torturous moments, the entire group stared at me. My heart raced out of control in my chest. All I wanted was to retreat to The Gazette and hide under my desk.
Finally, the mayor spoke up. “Well, now that all the excitement is finished, let me tell you what I’m going to do for this city.”
All eyes slowly turned back toward city hall as he continued to speak. I took notes with a shaking hand while my gaze darted over those gathered around me. Were there others in the throng looking for me? Had the man in the brown suit been looking for a random person to attack...or had he been looking especially for me?
I had never been so relieved in my life than when the mayor concluded his speech. I all but ran back to the newspaper office. Once I arrived there, I slumped into my desk chair and buried my head in my arms.
“Heard it was an eventful speech,” Vic’s voice resounded through my self-made sanctuary.
I looked up at him, astounded. “How did you hear?”
“Word travels fast. Are you all right, Livvy?”
“I am. A little shaken. Getting a little tired of my life being in danger.”
“Do you think this one was related?”
“I don’t. My attacker in the incidents before kept themselves secret. They were never so brazen. But the thought that I could have two people who want me dead…” I shuddered instead of completing the sentence.
“The police will get the truth out of the guy who tried to harm you today. Hopefully, they’re be related and he’ll rat out his partner. If not, you have all the resources at The Gazette at your disposal.” He looked me dead center in the eye. “All of them. Whatever you need. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
Vic smiled as he strode away. A small grin of my own cracked across my lips. It was time to even the playing field with my adversary.
I spent the rest of my day hidden away in the archives. I stole at least four steno pads from the supply cabinet to keep my notes in. I wasn’t sure if I would really need that many, but if I was in the middle of a thought, I certainly didn’t want to interrupt it to find another notepad.
I dropped on an old wooden chair tucked between two bookcases to think. Where had this all began? I could feel my brow wrinkle as I ran through everything that had happened. I shook my head in disbelief. How could I forget? It had all started with H.M. Goodrich’s death.
I sprang to my feet then stopped in my tracks. What had been the date? I frowned again as it came back to me. It had happened the night the train broke down, and I had been stranded in Cedar Rapids. I had grown so familiar with my new home that it felt like years ago.
I crossed the room to where the past editions were archived on microfilm and found the paper from the day following the murder. I loaded the film into the machine and slowly read the article. For being a cranky, generally unlikeable man, Chuck had done a great job. My heart ached a little. I had to admit that I missed Chuck quite a bit. The newsroom just wasn’t the same.
As I neared the bottom, I noticed the bit about the Goodrich’s home catching on fire. Frankie had told me about it. I asked the librarian to help me find any information on the blaze. Together we found it and fed it into the microfilm machine.
It had happened two weeks before the murder. It had started in H.M. Goodrich’s study when he was supposed to be home working on the financials for his company. Instead, he had accepted an invitation to golf with a friend. Vivian had been visiting her sister in Chicago.
Since it had started in the drapes, it had been considered suspicious. It seemed that the curtain had been lit through the open window. It had taken only minutes for the entire house to be engulfed.
The young man who had been hired to tend the Goodrichs’ garden had been caught and charged. He hadn’t protested his innocence. He had actually seemed proud of it. When asked why, he would only respond with “because she is mine.” The poor boy sounded a little deranged.
I quickly jotted down some notes and listed the main players in this situation. I cringed to add Frankie, but it was necessary. However, there was no need to do further research on him. Much to his horror, his mother and aunt had told me every bit of his life story during our poker games, paying particular interest to the embarrassing childhood moments.
I bit my lower lip nervously as I glanced up at the clock. It was six in the evening. The news of the man in the brown suit certainly had to have reached him by now. He would be a terrified mess, not knowing where I was. It was time to go find him.
The sun was already sinking in the horizon when I stepped out of The Gazette. I quickly shot a wary glance in both directions. Then, I let go a deep sigh. Having my life put in danger so many times now had me overly suspicious of everyone.
I did notice one thing missing—Frankie. I pushed my purse to my shoulder then spun on my toe in the direction of the Montrose Hotel.
The feeling of something warm and furry nudging against my leg made me smile. I didn’t even question what it was. I reached down and scratched my dog between the ears. He barked happily at the attention.
“Hello, Monty. Did you have a good day?” I crooned.
“Awful cheery from a lass who nearly lost her
life today. Again,” a deep voice growled behind me.
My heart thundered at the sound. It did every time he was near. I took a deep breath and turned to face Frankie. “I suppose you heard about this morning?”
“The whole bloody city heard, Olivia. They didn’t even need to wait to read the bloody story you wrote about it.”
“I didn’t write it. Vic did. He thought it might be awkward for me to write about nearly being killed.”
Frankie huffed. “This isn’t a laughing matter. There’s no humor in this situation at all. I hear some man attacks you. Then, I can’t find you all day. I was worried sick someone did kill you. I spent time at the morgue. Before today, I didn’t even know where the morgue was. Unfortunately, I do now.”
“I was in the archives, trying to put the pieces together. I’m trying to figure out who did this.”
Frankie shook his head sadly. “Maybe you were right, Livvy. Maybe you should go home. Or go to Chicago. You just need to go.”
Tears instantly welled in my eyes. “You want me to leave?”
“I want you alive. I can’t stomach the idea of you dead. I love you so much. I couldn’t go on if you were taken from me.”
I watched him as he stared at his feet while he shuffled them on the ground. Frankie wasn’t one to share his heart like this. He really loved me that much? I wiped away a tear. “You really want me to leave?”
“No. Never. But I’m not doing a very good job keeping you safe.”
I strode to him and wrapped my arms tight around his waist. He smothered me in his embrace as he buried his face in my hair. “Frankie, you’re doing just fine protecting me. I love you. I’m not leaving you or Cedar Rapids.”
His smile was like sunshine as he gazed down at me. “I’m starved. Let’s go to the Iowa Room for supper. Then, you can fill me in on what you found.” He took my hand in his then patted his leg for Monty to follow. We strolled down the sidewalk to the hotel.
We settled down at a table and ordered our supper. Then, Frankie took my hand in his again. “So?”
“You first. Tell me about the boy who set fire to the Goodrich’s house.”
Frankie shrugged. “There isn’t much to tell. I’m not too familiar with him. I was sent to Cedar Rapids to live with my aunt when I was sixteen. My mother was afraid I would get into trouble in New York City. My mother and Poppy followed two years later when my step-father died.”
“So, you never knew him?”
“I went to school with the lad for a couple years. He was quiet and kept to himself. Then, he started tending the Goodrich’s gardens. There was a rumor that he was getting too familiar with Vivian Goodrich while H.M. was away.”
“He kept saying that she belonged to him, but never said who ‘she’ was.”
“I don’t know. He was never seen with a girl. If he was seeing a woman, no one knew.”
I thought hard. “He wouldn’t have meant Vivian, would he?”
Frankie crossed his muscular arms over his chest as he frowned. “It is possible.”
I sighed. The salacious thought had me doubting my theory. However, the rumors weren’t mine. What if they were true? Or was there a mystery woman? I studied Frankie for a moment. Vivian had propositioned him right before her husband’s death. The fire and the murder seemed too coincidental.
I looked across the table at Frankie, meeting his blue-eyed gaze. I stretched my hand across and took his right from where it rested on his chest. “You’re probably correct.”
His scowl relaxed, and he smiled. “Did you find anything else?”
“Unfortunately, no. I’ll look deeper into the archives again tomorrow.”
“All right.”
The waiter brought our meals, and we began to eat. As I slipped a yummy piece of roast beef into my mouth, I looked up to see Vivian Goodrich herself sashaying in. Her arm was wrapped around that of a handsome man young enough to be her son. I glanced at Frankie. He was too busy with his own food to notice her.
My gaze drifted back to Vivian. Her dark eyes locked with mine. For a moment, they flickered to Frankie, taking in all of him very slowly. Then, they were back to me, narrowing to piercing slits. It was evident that she was more than displeased to see us together. Her eyes held jealousy in their depths. They held hate.
They held murder.
* * * *
I hid in the archives for the next several days. Little scraps of paper were scattered around the floor. After the second day, I wasn’t sure if the librarian was irritated or felt sorry for me, but she cleared a wall for me to tack my notes to.
Slowly, timelines began to form. Still, nothing made sense to me. One fact was clear, and it was a fact I did not want to face. The last two people to see H.M. Goodrich alive were Vivian Goodrich and Frankie. Why would Vivian kill her own husband? The finger once again pointed to Frankie.
Then, I stumbled across some articles in the strangest of places. In the Financial section of The Gazette, there were multiple stories that focused on the phenomenal success of H.M. Goodrich’s business. It had thrived so quickly that he was fast on his way to being the richest man in Cedar Rapids. It was only a few days after the final article had been printed that the fire had destroyed the Goodrich’s home.
This discovery opened up an entirely new angle. Could someone who was in competition with H.M. want him dead? There was only one person to ask. I slipped on my discarded shoes and jogged up the steps to the newsroom.
I found Sam, the Financial section editor, hovering over the coffee pot, chatting up Vic’s secretary. By the blush on her cheek, whatever he was saying was most likely not appropriate for the office. His strikingly handsome appearance made him look like the last person who would write financial articles for a newspaper.
I strode right up to the couple and cleared my throat to get their attention. “Sam, could I have a word with you?”
Sam winked at the woman. She scuttled back to her desk in a fit of giggles. His eyes raked over me from head to toe before he smiled slyly. “Of course, kitten. What can I help you with?”
My voice turned into a low growl, “The name is Olivia. I have questions about H.M. Goodrich’s business.”
“What about it? You aren’t investigating his murder, are you?”
“What if I am?”
Sam chuckled. “You’re wasting your time. The criminal O’Carney did it. Case closed. Hey, maybe I should write news stories. Then, we could spend more quiet time together. Right, kitten?”
That pompous, conceited... “Can you tell me about H.M. Goodrich’s business, or do I need to go find a more reliable source?”
His flirtatious grin suddenly turned into a scowl. I had obviously hit a nerve. “A man as rich as H.M. Goodrich doesn’t get where he was without stepping on a few toes. He stepped on more than I can count. And some belonged to very dangerous men.”
“Dangerous? Like who?”
“Like Art Spencer. He was H.M.’s business partner. Then, as the business started to succeed, H.M. tossed him out on his ear.”
“That hardly makes the man dangerous,” I scoffed.
“True. But his known ties to a very powerful Chicago mob boss do.”
I stared at Sam, astounded. I had to look like an absolute idiot with my mouth hanging open like that. I was pretty sure I felt my chin scrape along the floor. But it didn’t matter to me. A Chicago mob boss here in little ol’ Cedar Rapids, a metropolis in the middle of cornfields? It seemed so farfetched that it could actually be true.
“Which mobster is this?” I demanded.
“Dirty Fingers DiPaccio, of course,” Sam scoffed. “Who else would concern himself with things going on in Cedar Rapids? He’s been moving his operations westward for the past two years. Getting his hands on H.M. Goodrich’s business would lock up his hold on Cedar Rapids. After the blow-up Art had with H.M., the old geezer was more than happy to help DiPaccio deal with Goodrich.”
I bit back a laugh. What kind of name was Dirty Fingers? All I coul
d think of was a little boy playing in a mud puddle.
Sam must have noticed my slight giggle. “I wouldn’t laugh, kitten. Dirty Fingers is credited for murdering at least fifty men in the Midwest in the last year. He’s no one to trifle with.”
I swallowed hard. Suddenly, the stakes had gotten much higher. Dealing with such a dangerous man put me on edge. Like almost dying multiple times didn’t have me there already. “Has Dirty Fingers taken control of H.M. Goodrich’s company yet?”
“No. Vivian Goodrich has control of it now. But what match will that old windbag be to a mobster? She’s more concerned with her social events. It’ll be only a matter of time before Cedar Rapids is in DiPaccio’s pocket.”
Sam leaned against the wall as he crossed his arms over his chest. He flashed me a dazzling, lady killer smile. “Now, kitten. Let’s talk about us. You’re drop dead gorgeous. I like a woman with a fiery attitude. How about we go get some supper and see where the night takes us? Maybe if you’re lucky, I’ll make you breakfast in the morning.”
Normally, such bravado from a man would earn him a slap across the face from me. Instead, I just returned his smirk with one of my own. “Sam, why do you think I’m so interested in H.M. Goodrich’s murder?”
He laughed. “Because a beauty like you loves mystery and intrigue.”
“Not exactly. It’s because that dangerous, lowlife Frankie O’Carney…” I leaned in to whisper in his ear, “is my boyfriend. And twice the man you are.”
I spun on my toe and stormed off to the archives again, leaving a slack-jawed Sam in my wake. There was more research on my agenda. My stomach twisted. More than likely, most of it would take place outside the safety of the newsroom. Soon, I would be meeting Art Spencer. My hopes were that I wouldn’t be meeting Dirty Fingers DiPaccio as well.
It was nearly suppertime when I stepped out of the newspaper building. I knew that not by the time on the clock, but by the rumble in my stomach. I made my way toward Third Avenue, striding the small distance to the intersection. I could see Frankie playing with Monty in the park, the dog chasing as the man laughed like a schoolboy.
Innocent 'til Proven Guilty Page 6
