Rohn Federbush - Sally Bianco 01 - The Legitimate Way

by Rohn Federbush

  Family can bring up the past, right when a person only needs their support. Sally’s husband Danny didn’t hide his Viet Nam history and his confinement in Michigan’s State Prison for the mentally ill. No matter how many years of service Danny gave the community after he’d served his time, Danny would always be an outlaw in her family’s eyes. Danny hadn’t actually harmed anyone. Maybe he did shorten a few lives of those who witnessed the terror of watching a grown man scream himself into unconsciousness. The siege of suddenly recovered memories of the war caused his breakdown. Sally knew she had aged five years in two hours.

  “You’re right,” Sally said. “If you’ll give me a few names, I’ll contact them without referring to my connection to you.” Sally hated sucking up to people, especially family. “Would that be better?”

  “Much,” Madelyn said. Then she sighed, adding reluctantly, “I’ll pull together a list of names that might help. What’s he accused of?”

  “Murder,” Sally admitted. Why lie?

  “Sally,” Madelyn took a deep breath in preparation for a long lecture.

  “Sorry,” Sally did lie. “My cell is breaking up. I’ll put in a new battery and call you back.”

  Loretta, the sister closest to Sally’s age, was always easier to approach.

  “Oh, good,” Loretta said, all enthused when Sally called her, “Karl and I are planning to visit Illinois at Christmas and I was afraid I would miss your trip.”

  “Madelyn’s busy until Wednesday,” Sally said. “Could I come down Saturday night and stay until Wednesday morning?”

  “Absolutely,” Loretta said. “I have a daybed in my office. Will that do?”

  “The Holiday Inn Danny and I stayed in will be fine,” Sally said. “But I will need most of your time and Karl’s. I’m searching for a lost woman,” she said. “I need to find her before her abusive husband can.”

  Murder accusations were not necessarily the right avenue to take with these two. Karl was a state arson detective with enough contacts throughout Florida to find Mary Jo in the shortest possible time.

  “Give me her name, Sally,” Loretta said. “I’ll get Karl started on tracking her down. Maybe we’ll have something for you by the time you arrive.”

  “Thanks, Loretta,” Sally said. “The sooner I find her the better. I have the license number for her blue VW van, too.”

  Packing for the trip was a bit confusing. Sally had just overhauled her closets for winter. She pulled out the summer clothes from the trunks she used for storage, searching for the right look. She wanted to appear professional, as if she really were a detective, but she didn’t want her sisters to disown her, which they would if she’d worn black slacks and business Harveyets. Sally threw a bright raspberry colored short Harveyet and all her tan slacks into her valise. Compromise was always the best way to handle any situation, according to her late husband.

  He loved Florida, Danny did. Sally thought the state flat, ugly and unpleasant to say the best of what she actually thought of the terrain. The people were all insane, waiting for some one close to them to die or not die, counting inheritances and spending them twice before realizing a penny. The whole place was crazy, thinking they knew how to rule the rest of the nation. Their brains were smitten with strokes and the sun addled any other wits they might have originally possessed. The young people only had drug-induced elders to look up to. Peaches rot faster in the sun. Sally tried to keep her kisser in the refrigerated north, where all the oldest living people resided. God help them all. Maybe global warming should be prayed for every day. Ten feet of higher ocean surf would rid the nation of its cankerous foot. The world probably wouldn’t even notice the limp.

  After adding two cans of bug spray, Sally snapped the suitcases shut and called a cab for the airport. If Mary Jo wasn’t dead, Sally might off her just for all the trouble she was causing Robert.

  ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

  Lakeland, Florida

  September, Second Saturday

  Lakeland, Florida, the home of the Detroit Tiger’s baseball training camp, was a typical town in Florida, as far as Sally was concerned. She struggled to remember where the motel was as she drove down the main drag. Strung out flat along the interstate, the town had no character, no charm. Neon signs greeted Sally on either side of the road. Late Saturday night Sally hung up her clothes in the biggest bedroom suite the motel sported before calling her sister.

  “Let me go to church with you in the morning,” Sally asked halfheartedly.

  “Fine,” Loretta said. “I’ll pick you up at 7:30.”

  “I didn’t bring a hat,” Sally said, really hoping for a reprieve.

  “No one wears hats,” Loretta snickered. “Karl has a whole stack of reports for you to look through. He thinks he’s found your girl.”

  “Have you contacted her?” Sally asked somehow alarmed.

  “No,” Loretta said. “Karl thinks Mary Jo would skedaddle if anyone but a friend asked her questions.”

  “Good,” Sally said. “I think he’s right.”

  Church wasn’t bad, except for a few minutes of arm raising. Sally’s prayers were sincere, her habits were just not as robust as the rest of the congregation. Nevertheless, Loretta was pleased. Loretta introduced Sally to twenty people Sally would never lay eyes on again. Well maybe at Loretta’s funeral, God forbid.

  The last time Sally had visited her sister’s retirement digs, a construction trailer with a yellowed and torn linoleum floor and scuffed-up toilet facilities constituted the living arrangements. The lot was huge, fenced with a gate and lined with untrimmed trees and their neighbor’s junk.

  Sally was impressed with the newly expanded an air-conditioned cabana. Six-foot porches, under one main roof, surrounded the mobile home. Five sets of double French doors allowed entry to the mammoth, enclosed veranda from the rear bedroom, the laundry room, the kitchen, the living room, and a back, side door. Loretta proudly displayed her handy work, consisting of red painted cobblestones on the plywood porch. The windows sported sturdy hurricane shutters and screening which was rolled down to brass rods, leaving about a half inch to welcome the mosquitoes.

  The dining room table overflowed with legal sized file folders. Karl helped Sally sort out the most pertinent information. They adjourned to the two-person, covered swing on the porch which served as the couch. Mary Jo was living an hour away in Orlando, working at a Wal-Mart, and was seen alive Friday morning.

  Sally immediately opened her cell and called Robert with the news. She reached the Bibliopole on her third try.

  Harvey answered, “Robert’s napping. Should I wake him?”

  “Andrew isn’t there, is he? Where’s Penny?” Sally asked.

  “No,” Harvey said, as if looking around the bookstore to find Andrew. “Do you have a number where he can reach you? We don’t know why Penny failed to show up.”

  Dear Lord, Sally prayed, not another missing woman of Robert’s. “Tell Andrew Mary Jo was seen alive on Friday.” Sally hadn’t realized how excited she was. Her heart was palpitating and her mouth went immediately dry. She motioned for Karl to get her something to drink, raising an imaginary glass to her mouth. He just sat there in a deep, sandbag chair. However, Loretta had seen their father make the same gesture in his lifetime and she quickly filled a glass with cold water. Sally’s eyes watered in gratitude and her throat unclenched with the water. “Thank you,” Sally managed.

  “For what?” Harvey asked. “I never liked Mary Jo or Penny.”

  “Sure you do,” Sally argued with the idiot. “You want them alive and well so Robert won’t end up behind bars.”

  Karl and Loretta let out gasps. Sally just wasn’t any good at cloak-and-dagger role. Karl collected the file folders, including the one in Sally’s lap and put them in a briefcase with a padlock on it, for heaven’s sake. Luckily, Sally had written down all the information she needed in her small, travel notebook.

  “I can’t be involved in releasing information in a trial without p
roper authorization,” Karl said.

  “Sally,” Loretta said. “You weren’t honest with us.”

  Sally shut off her cell and spread her hands palm up on her knees. “I knew you would have a problem helping me investigate a murder case, but a missing person would elicit the right response. Besides, obviously Mary Jo isn’t dead. We knew Robert couldn’t hurt a fly and her sadistic husband, who wants her found so he can beat her to death, is Robert’s accuser.”

  Karl backtracked pretty quickly. He struggled to his feet. “I know Orlando. Loretta and I will drive you to her address right now.”

  Sally rose from the swing and hugged her brother-in-law. She didn’t do that sort of thing, often.

  ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

  Orlando, Florida

  The house number at the address in Orlando was hung a little lopsided to fit into the space available next to the door of the condominium. The complex was back-to-back with the Wal-Mart parking lot. Karl and Loretta stayed in their yellow pickup as Sally approached the door. Sally rang the bell, but no one was home. Back in the truck, Sally sniffled at the profound disappointment.

  “Probably at work,” Karl said.

  “You two stay here,” Sally said, “And I’ll just walk over to Wal-Mart and try to find her there.”

  “I wouldn’t ask for her,” Karl said, “Might spook her.”

  “Yeah,” Sally said. “I’ll try to find her by walking the halls.” If no luck counted, it was all the luck Sally had walking the aisles of the gigantic store. She tried to stay in the center aisle, spying down each lane on either side of her. All she accomplished was drawing the attention of half-a-dozen workers intent on helping her find whatever she was looking for. Sally ended up being guided to a checkout lane with her basket filled with useless junk. Karl and Loretta both had a great laugh as they piled the bags into the back of the pickup.

  “I wish I had a police radio to find out where her van is right now,” Karl said.

  “Could we stop at the Orlando police station,” Sally asked, clutching at anything remotely helpful.

  “Not without an official inquiry,” Karl said.

  “Write her a note,” Loretta said. “Slip it under the door with our phone number on it.”

  Sally tore one of the small pages out of her notebook and wrote, “Mary Jo, Please call Robert Koelz. He’s been accused of your murder, by your husband. The police will give you protection but Robert’s name needs to be cleared as soon as possible. His lawyer sent me down to find you. She signed the note, “Sally Bianco” and added a postscript. “Call me at my sister’s home.”

  Sally added all the phone numbers she could think of and slipped the paper under Mary Jo’s front door. She insisted Karl and Loretta wait an entire half-hour, hoping Mary Jo would return. They finally even inquired at the Wal-Mart, but no one had heard of her, or maybe Mary Jo had asked them not to tell anyone she worked there, if there were inquiries.

  ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

  “I might have messed up,” Sally confessed to Andrew safely back in her motel room where she could do less harm.

  “No,” Andrew said. “At least I can give the police something concrete about her whereabouts on Friday. But we’ll need more than hearsay to have the charges dropped. Mary Jo still hasn’t contacted Robert and he’s getting pretty concerned about Penny, too.”

  “Should I talk to him?” Sally didn’t really want to hear Robert’s disappointment. She didn’t want to hear about Penny not attending him, either.

  “I’ll handle it,” Andrew said. “Are you inquiring in Vero Beach, too?”

  “Should I?” Sally thought visiting Madelyn would be a purely social visit, now that she’d found an address for Mary Jo.

  “Go ahead,” Andrew explained. “Maybe she’s moved on.”

  Sally sighed. “I can do more harm.”

  “Don’t think of it that way,” Andrew said. “Ricco is still being followed up here and hopefully he doesn’t have any contacts in Florida.”

  Robert took the phone, “Sally, keep us informed. You’re doing me a great service. I’m sure Penny is just sulking. I called Penny’s brother, Mark. He says she might stay in Toledo until she has to take her finals. I think he said that just to mollify me.”

  That’s all Sally needed, a lonesome, troubled Robert to worry about. She assured him of her affection and loyalty, his worth to his friends, and the likelihood that Mary Jo would call him very soon. She re-packed for Vero Beach, frustrated because she had to wait until Wednesday to contact Madelyn. After a sleepless night, Sally decided to go directly to the police station in Vero Beach. What could she lose?

  ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

  Vero Beach, Florida

  In a country that should be aware of the problem women face with abuse issues, the Vero Beach police department acted like a throwback to the good-ole-boys days. “No, I’m not a relative,” Sally said for the eighth time to the fourth Caucasian face in a blue uniform.

  “Sorry, I am not allowe Hotel Baker, St. Charles, Illinois

  d to divulge information on law-abiding citizens,” the blond, clef-chinned idiot smiled.

  “And I’m not a dolt,” Sally said to make him pay attention.

  “Now, we don’t need any trouble from you,” an older, pot-bellied woman officer said behind the chest-high entry desk.

  “I am the court advocate for the woman,” Sally was surprised to hear herself say.

  The young guy looked at the older woman. “Court advocate?”

  “No such a thing,” she said. Her mouth closed into a tight fist of an expression.

  “Oh yeah,” Sally argued, anger rising, brain non-functioning, “Call Judge Joe Wilcox in Ann Arbor, Michigan; the prosecutor Jimmy Walker, or the defendant’s attorney, Andrew Sites.” Silence. “If you don’t have their phone number, call information.” At this point in the discussion, Sally slammed her new, Wal-Mart legal pad in its fake leather binder on the high desk with a resounding slap.

  “Steve,” the older cop said. “Let’s just have some peace and quiet. Look up the address, phone number, and track the license plate for a Mary Jo Cardonè.”

  ”Might take a half-hour.” the tall kid grinned again.

  Sally was sure his mother taught her southern-bred boy to shine those pearly whites whenever he needed divine help. “I will return,” Sally said at first forgetting her legal pad, not meeting their eyes as she grabbed it and nearly ran out the door.

  Half an hour. Plenty of time to find a restaurant for lunch and call Robert again. She headed for the beach, where she could see an oil tanker close to the horizon. The wind was high enough to make her thankful she’d remembered to put on sunscreen. The hat, she had lied to Loretta about not packing, sailed away with the first gust of ocean breeze.

  As Sally approached the blue horizon, strange characters milled about the sand. One male’s naked torso boasted a tattoo of an alligator; face front, tail wrapped around his skinny back. A long pier with a covered end for fishing caused Sally to forget all about lunch. As she leaned against the railing, out of the way of the men casting their lines, Sally spied two dolphins sporting near the pilings. Cheered by the site, Sally called Robert on her cell. “No news here, there?”

  “None,” he said, sounding down. “Penny called to say she would return next month. Seems her mother’s having back surgery.”

  “That’s a shame,” Sally said.

  “That woman will do anything to keep Penny away from me, even faking enough pain so that a surgeon is convinced he has to operate.”

  “Oh, Robert,” Sally said. “You don’t believe that, you’re just lonesome. Have Harvey drive you down to Toledo. Mrs. Savage will love you as much as Penny does.”

  “I thought of that,” Robert said, his voice still in the cellar. “Andrew says I cannot leave the state.”

  “Should I come home and pay for a detective to run around down here?” Sally offered.

  Playing the detective wasn’t much fun really. Maybe if
she had found Mary Jo wandering around Wal-Mart, Sally could have been more enthusiastic about her part of the quest for clearing Robert’s name. Money could solve this one. Sally could be with Robert and pay for someone else, someone not really interested, maybe not motivated enough. Sally did not mention the quandary she faced.

  Andrew took the phone from Robert. “Sally, I understand you want to be here with Robert, but check-out Vero Beach before you return.”

  They said goodbyes. Sally grabbed an ice cream cone from a vendor and headed back to the police department.

  “No address,” Steve, the blond desk-sergeant said.

  “We found her car in Arizona,” the fat lady offered.

  “No address.” Sally repeated. Arizona was a fairly sizable state.

  “Phoenix,” Steve said. “Her car is at the Coldwater Courtyard Motel.”

  “Thank you,” Sally said. She didn’t care if they saw how disappointed she was.

  Sally slumped out of the cold, tiled, low-slung building. She hated Florida; but before she called down floods and tsunamis, Sally thought she should swing by her sister’s and then head for a plane out of West Palm Beach.

  Now Madelyn was miffed that Sally wasn’t staying. “I made the bed for you.”

  “Sorry,” Sally said. “I can’t find out where Mary Jo Cardonè is, if I stay down here. The police told me she’s already in Arizona.”

  “When did you see the police?” Madelyn asked.

  “This morning,” Sally said. “I didn’t want to involve your name in the mess.”

  “How do you find people who get accused of murder to fill your life?” she asked.

  “Luck,” Sally said. “I’m so lucky, felons fall from fifty trees at the same time.”

  “Stop joking,” Madelyn said. “How did you meet Mr. Koelz? I remember how you met Danny Bianco.”

  “Before Danny died, I collected what I thought were rare books, and I wrote Robert to ask what the price was for a book describing old bicycles.”

  “He’s an antique dealer?”

  “No,” Sally said. She didn’t want to let Madelyn believe Robert had money or might need money, that would really lengthen the lecture. “Mostly he collects used books, but sometimes he gets lucky.”