He couldn’t let the possibility pass, and he wouldn’t ask Joanne. She’d find some reason to keep the information quiet. He grasped the receiver and punched in the detective’s number. To his disappointment, he got Cortezi’s answering machine. Benjamin left his number and hung up. He’d try later.
He pushed the folder aside and opened the next file. He wouldn’t stop now. Angelo might be a dead end but Benjamin didn’t want to miss a possibility.
Joanne stood in the doorway of the sandwich shop, glad it was Friday. The tension had taken more of a toll than she could have imagined and part of her longed to go to bed and sleep forever.
The packed deli tables didn’t look promising until she saw a hand waving at her. Melissa Shafer beckoned her over and Joanne waved and moved in her direction. Melissa wasn’t her favorite co-worker, but Joanne needed to have a quick lunch and get back to work.
Lately she’d been buying a sandwich and eating at her desk. Today she wanted something warm. Soup sounded good. She felt chilled.
“Thanks,” Joanne said to Melissa as she settled into the chair across from her. “I was ready to give up.”
“No problem.” Melissa slid her menu across the table. “You’re just in time. The waitress hasn’t taken my food order yet.” She lifted her coffee mug and took a sip.
Joanne skimmed the menu and settled on cheese-broccoli soup. The waitress stepped up, and they placed their orders.
“I’ll be right back with your tea,” the young woman said, and hurried away.
“You look tired,” Melissa said. “Are you feeling okay?”
“I’m fine. It’s just the holiday rush.”
Melissa nodded. “Baking, gift buying, wrapping. I know. At least you don’t have a family.”
Joanne tried to hide her shock at the thoughtless remark. “That’s right. My husband and daughter died three years ago.” She wanted to add a snide comment, but kept her thoughts private.
“I’m sorry,” Melissa said. “I remember. That was a pity.”
Then why bring it up? Joanne wondered. She studied the woman’s face and remembered what Nita had suggested weeks earlier. Joanne had denied her caller could be “Bambi,” as Nita called Melissa, but here she sat, saying she remembered Joanne’s family and yet had sounded so callous.
Joanne quelled her thoughts. No matter how much Melissa irked her, the woman wouldn’t have made the calls. It just wasn’t in her.
“I hope the new job’s not too much for you.”
“No more than any new position. It takes time to adjust, but it’s not that different from what I’d been doing. The only variation is the proverbial desk sign—The Buck Stops Here. I take all the flak for a bad job.”
“But you got a raise…and an office with a window.”
Joanne was tempted to give Melissa the office with the window just to get her to be quiet about it. Listening to her thoughts sent Joanne on a guilt trip. She halted her negativity and captured her Christian attitude.
She drew in a breath as she forced a pleasant expression onto her face. “I’m sure you’re disappointed not getting the job, Melissa. I would have been, too. We don’t know why one person’s picked over the other. I like to think we all have a time when dreams come true.”
“It’s not set in stone,” Melissa said. “I know you’re an interim for six months. Who knows?”
Joanne’s skin crawled. “True,” she said, hoping the subject could now be dropped.
As the waitress arrived with her soup and Melissa’s sandwich, someone turned up the volume on the TV attached to the wall above Melissa’s head. Joanne let her soup sit while she watched the reporter on the noon news.
“Early this morning the body of an unidentified woman was found along the banks of the Rouge River in River Rouge Park in Dearborn. The woman appears to have been in her late thirties.” The camera panned the brush-covered riverbank as medics lifted a stretcher and carried the body to the awaiting ambulance.
“That’s terrible,” Melissa said, craning her neck to see the television.
“Strangulation appears to be the cause of her death,” the reporter continued, “and no witnesses have come forward. We’ll have more details tonight on the ten o’clock news.”
Dearborn. The city’s name sent a chill down Joanne’s spine.
“You look as white as a sheet,” Melissa said, gaping at her.
Joanne let the spoon sink into her soup, her appetite gone. “I just hate hearing about death.”
“Your family,” Melissa said, nodding. “I suppose it does give you a jolt.”
Joanne tried to pull herself together. She lifted the spoon and forced herself to swallow the rich soup, normally one of her favorites. It struck her that Melissa appeared to be looking for signs of weakness, and Joanne didn’t plan to give any away.
Benjamin opened a computer search engine and looked for “Peter Angelo Trucking Company.” The case notes indicated Angelo owned a small trucking company in St. Clair Shores, but nothing appeared for St. Clair Shores. Benjamin went back to the search and put in “Angelo Trucking Company, Michigan.” Then hit Go.
He waited until the list appeared, and saw Carl Angelo Trucking Company, Dearborn. His throat went dry. Peter Carl Angelo. He flipped open the file to make sure he’d remembered correctly. He had. Peter had probably begun to use his middle name.
Benjamin’s attention returned to the company name. He grabbed a pen and jotted down the address. This time he put Carl Angelo’s name into the search line, but before he hit Go, his telephone rang.
“Benjamin Drake’s desk,” he said into the receiver.
“This is Joanne.”
He heard her frantic tone. “What is it?”
“I just saw a news bulletin at lunch. A woman’s body was found along the banks of River Rouge in Dearborn.” She gasped. “Benjamin, I’m so frightened.”
“When did you hear this?”
“Just a few minutes ago. I went to the sandwich shop for lunch, and they had the TV on.”
He gazed back at the computer screen, thinking twice about telling her what he’d learned. He decided it could wait.
“I’m really worried the woman is the caller. It’s another of my gut feelings…”
“It could be anyone, Joanne. Don’t get in a panic. Where along the river?”
“In the park in Dearborn. Should I call Cortezi?”
Her question gave him pause. He might have news of his own to tell Cortezi once he checked it out. “Let’s wait until we hear more. If they identify her, then we’ll have more to go on. I’m in the middle of something here but I’ll drop by later.”
“If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure,” he said, praying he’d made the right decision. “Take it easy, and I’ll see you after work as soon as I can get there.”
“Okay, but I’m frightened.”
He tried to soothe her, but he realized the conversation had done nothing for his own nerves. He’d become as jumpy as Joanne.
When she hung up, Benjamin hit Go on the computer. A Dearborn address popped up and he scribbled that down. He needed to make sure the two Carls were the same, and he figured he could get access to Wayne County Records at the City-County Building.
Benjamin left work early and headed to the county offices in downtown Detroit. He found parking off Woodward, then made his way into the building. Once he explained his mission and flashed his ID, the clerk agreed to cooperate.
“I’d like to check the address of the owner of Angelo Trucking Company,” Benjamin said, sliding a piece of paper with the company name on it toward the clerk.
The young man gave him a know-it-all look. “A trucking business doesn’t need a license. We only license trash dumping, vending businesses—”
“You mean you keep no records of businesses in the county?”
“Most people register the business, which protects the name from use by anyone else for five years.”
“Then could you check that, please
?”
“It’ll take a few moments,” he said, picking up the paper with the company name and shifting to a computer.
Benjamin watched the fellow type the information into the computer, and after a few minutes the clerk returned, verifying the address Benjamin had already found on the Internet. He could have saved himself five dollars for parking and a couple of hours’ time had he been sure.
But another thought struck him before he stepped away. “While you’re at the computer, is there a way you can check to see if this Carl Angelo—or perhaps a Peter Angelo—filed for a marriage license in the past three years?”
“I’ll see what I can do for you.” He arched a brow and looked curious, but returned to the computer. After a few minutes, he picked up a telephone and spoke so softly that Benjamin couldn’t hear, but in a short time, he returned.
“Is this what you want?”
Benjamin stared down at nearly illegible penmanship: “Donna Nickels and Carl Angelo married on March 15, 2003.” “Yes, thanks.”
Benjamin hurried from the office, clutching the paper. He gave it another look as he waited for the elevator to the first floor, amazed he’d gotten everything he needed in one location. He reached the lobby, then raced to his car and paid the parking attendant. When he pulled onto Woodward, he drove a short distance, then turned left onto Jefferson Avenue.
Benjamin gazed at the elegant estates that stood behind high fences as he headed north—these were homes of the automotive moguls and the wealthy of Detroit. What people did for the almighty dollar made him sick. Too many people connived, twisted business ethics and loosened their morals for money, and they missed out on the joy of true happiness. He suspected this was the problem for Peter Carl Angelo—a man with no strength of character and no respect for human life.
Benjamin had no proof that Angelo had committed a crime. Still, Benjamin had a strong feeling that Angelo had been involved in Joanne’s calls.
Jefferson Avenue changed to Lake Shore Drive and Benjamin veered over to Kercheval and then to Maumee. He pulled into the small parking lot of the Department of Public Safety and went inside. A counter and a door separated him from the offices inside.
When he reached the counter, a clerk looked up. “Can I help you?”
“I’m Benjamin Drake. An attorney. I’d like to speak to Detective Hank Cortezi if he’s available.”
“Let me check,” she said, stepping away.
As he waited, he stared at the bare walls and the nondescript entry. Soon the inner door opened and Hank stood there.
“You just caught me,” Cortezi said. “What’s up?”
Benjamin gestured to the cramped lobby. “Should we talk here?”
Hank gestured Benjamin inside and pushed the door open farther.
Benjamin followed the detective’s lead to his office, where they were alone.
Hank rested his hip against his desk and nodded to the chair. “Got something new?”
“A couple of things. I found an old case of Greg Fuller’s. It involved a Peter Angelo, now known as Carl Angelo who owns—”
Cortezi’s eyes widened. “Carl Angelo?”
“Right. Do you know him?”
“The Dearborn police have been working on a trucking company providing a cover for stolen cars.”
“Owner Carl Angelo?”
He nodded. “They pretty much have it nailed. They found a connection on this side of town, so we’re involved.”
“I’m thinking he’s involved in more than that.” Benjamin detailed his suspicions about Angelo. “And Joanne is afraid the woman they just found strangled by the Rouge River may be Angelo’s second wife, Donna, and the woman who has been calling her.”
Cortezi frowned. “You know her?”
“No, I just checked out their marriage license while I was at the County.”
Hank gave a chuckle. “Should I ask if you’re after my job?”
Benjamin laughed. “No, just worried about Joanne.”
“Listen, we have no arrest yet, but tell her we think we know the source of the e-mails. We need to talk with the suspect before we do anything else.”
If they knew the person who sent the e-mails and it wasn’t Donna Angelo, then who was the dead woman? “Any theories on the murdered woman?” he asked Cortezi.
Hank held up his hand. “Don’t ask me. I’ve told you too much already. I don’t want to lose my job.” He pointed to the scrap of paper Benjamin had given him. “I’ll keep this, if you don’t mind.”
“That’s fine.” Benjamin patted his pocket, where he had another copy of Angelo’s address. “Here’s something else you could check. If Angelo’s first wife died, then he might have his own child, and if that’s the case we could be looking at the wrong man. His ex-wife’s name is Rose Stella Angelo. If alive, she may have remarried by now. Their daughter’s name is Connie. Can you check on that?”
He gave Benjamin a wry look. “Sure you don’t want to?”
“No, I’ll let you take the glory.” He grinned.
“Listen,” Cortezi said, taking a step toward the doorway. “I’ll get back to you as soon as we have something solid.”
Benjamin realized the action was Cortezi’s tactful way of getting him out the door. “Thanks,” he said, rising to go.
“And Drake?’
Benjamin turned back to face him.
“Don’t do my job. Let the investigators do the work. You could get yourself killed.”
“Thanks for the tip,” Benjamin said, giving him a salute as he headed out.
Chapter Sixteen
Saturday morning Joanne lay in bed and thought about her conversation with Benjamin the night before. He’d been bursting with news from Cortezi and she’d been amazed at what he’d found out on his own.
Joanne vaguely recalled the case—not the family name, but that Greg had been disturbed by it, probably because of having a child the same age. Her mind spun with too many unanswered questions. She knew the police had other cases, some more dire than hers, she supposed, but to her, finding Mandy took precedence over breathing.
Was the dead woman who’d been found in River Rouge Park the woman Benjamin called Donna? Now Benjamin said the police had identified the person who’d e-mailed her. How did that fit in?
And then Benjamin added another question. Had Angelo’s first wife really died? If Angelo had his birth child, then that meant his daughter wasn’t Mandy, and if that was so, who was the child in the photograph? Joanne was certain the girl was Mandy. Joanne’s eyes, mind and heart had been positive—and so had Benjamin.
Benjamin had shown her Angelo’s address in Dearborn. He’d kept the paper, but Joanne had memorized it. She longed to drive there and see for herself. If only she would see the child in person.
Let the police handle the matter, she told herself. As Benjamin said, she could endanger her life by meddling. Yet her heart yearned to do just that.
Joanne swung her legs from the bed and headed for the shower. The hot water washed over her, swirling around her feet and vanishing down the drain—just like her mind had been doing. Ideas came and went, vanishing into dead-end thoughts.
She turned off the tap, dried her body and toweled her hair. She was relieved that steam covered the mirror. Lately she looked pale and aged.
In her bedroom, Joanne slipped into a pair of jeans and felt the loose waist—she had lost weight. She added a coral tunic top, hoping her clothing would help add color to her death-white complexion. She pulled her hair back and attached a clip, then padded down the stairs in her socks.
Coffee had become her usual breakfast. She sat at the table with a cup, wondering what to do with her day. Though she’d mailed the packages home, she still had gifts to wrap, a tree to decorate and numerous holiday tasks, but her heart wasn’t in it. Since her clothes hung on her like someone else’s garments, she needed to go shopping. She liked the trimmer look and feel, but hated the reason for the weight loss.
The telephone’s ring
jarred her and her stomach knotted. She responded to her first instinct and looked at the caller ID. A cell-phone number. She picked up the receiver.
“Bagels or muffins?” Benjamin said.
She didn’t want to let him know how much the phone’s ring had frightened her. “What kind of muffins?”
“Let’s see…”
She figured he was standing in front of a bakery case eyeing the goods.
“How about almond poppy-seed?”
She grinned for the first time in a couple of days. “How did you know?”
“That you love them?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Lucky guess. I’ll be there in a minute.”
His bright voice warmed her heart. She needed Benjamin so badly to make her life full again. He’d become precious to her in such a short time.
She carried her mug into the living room and stood by the large front window. Today the snow on the ground glistened in the morning sun. Along the road’s edge the white crystals had become tinted gray.
Her life had seemed like that. The pressures of her immediate life had dulled, yet beyond the fringe, God’s goodness glistened in all its purity. Sin corrupted, and she’d been trudging through the evils of the world for the past month.
Joanne knew she wasn’t sinless. She’d made so many mistakes in her life. She’d hardened her heart to her family without trying to understand their ways. She’d closed herself off from people and then blamed them for not opening their arms to her.
Who would want to hang out with someone dour and unyielding? She’d become difficult to be with, she was sure. Even Benjamin deserved a medal. He’d gone beyond the call of duty with her. Blaming others was so easy, she realized, rather than take a deeper look at herself.
Benjamin had forced her to take that look. His strong faith and unwavering trust in God shone as an example. Benjamin wasn’t perfect, she knew, but he was close, and what sins he had weren’t evident to her eyes.
Love is blind.
She was startled by her admission. Love? Could it be? And would it ever be returned? She knew Benjamin’s kindly ways, and she would expect him to be thoughtful to an old friend. Or had he begun to feel more, as she had?
Finding Christmas Page 15
