Driven to Ink

Chapter 57

“Where did they go?”I asked.

Rosalie shrugged. “I figured they’d go back to Dad’s house. Or Sylvia’s, maybe.”

“Can we call your father?” Tim asked.

Rosalie stepped aside and let us come in. She led the way into the kitchen and to a phone on the counter. She picked up the receiver.

“Why is their rental car still here?” I asked while Rosalie dialed.

“They took my car,” she said. “Dad’s going to take it to the shop tomorrow morning for me. I need an oil change.” She put the phone back in its cradle. “No answer.”

“What about Sylvia?” I asked.

“You don’t have her number?” Rosalie asked.

I was embarrassed to admit that I didn’t. I’d never needed to reach her anywhere but at Murder Ink. Neither Sylvia nor Bernie had cell phones, which was why we couldn’t reach them right after I found Ray Lucci in my trunk.

Rosalie was already dialing. Tim and I waited. Finally, she hung up, frowning. “That’s funny. No answer there, either.”

I had a bad feeling about this. Where could they be? On a whim, I took the phone and dialed Murder Ink but got only the recording saying the shop was closed.

“Where could they be?” I asked no one in particular.

I thought about how they’d disappeared after their wedding. It wasn’t unusual for Sylvia to do things spur of the moment, but considering Rosalie, I wouldn’t think Sylvia would run off again and not tell anyone where she was going.

Maybe she and Bernie had stopped off for a late drink somewhere.

I said as much to Tim, who shrugged, agreeing with the possibility. But Rosalie didn’t look so convinced, the worry etched into her forehead.

“What happened with Jeff? You said it was an accident?” she asked.

“He was taking me home,” I said, “and a car ran us off the road. And then the guy shot at us.”

“Someone shot at you? Who?”

“I don’t know. Could’ve been Dan Franklin. Or Will Parker. Or Martin Sanderson. Take your pick.”

“What are you talking about? Will? Dan?” Rosalie’s worry turned into confusion. “What’s going on?”

“That’s what I’d like to know,” I said.

“How well do you know the men your husband worked with?” Tim asked, turning into cop mode.

Rosalie’s eyes settled on the wall behind Tim as she shrugged. “Well, I work with Dan, so I know him pretty well.”

“How well?” Tim asked.

Her lips pressed together in a grim line for a second, then, “Not that well, if that’s what you’re implying. Lou thought the same thing.” Rosalie’s fingers went to her eye, where the remnants of the bruise remained. The gesture didn’t get past Tim, whose expression softened.

“Your husband did that,” he said matter-of-factly. “Dan Franklin must have known about that. Do you think that would have given him a reason to harm your husband?”

Rosalie frowned. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”

“Did Franklin feel he had to avenge your honor or something? Did he feel he had to save you? Would he have killed your husband to do that?”

“It wasn’t like that,” she said.

“So tell me what it was like,” Tim said, more gently now.

Rosalie hung her head and brushed a lock of hair off her forehead and behind her ear. “They all told me to leave him,” she whispered. “But I couldn’t.”

I opened my mouth to ask why not, but Tim shot me a look and I stopped.

“I understand that, but would Franklin have taken matters into his own hands?”

She raised her eyes to Tim’s face, a small, sad smile tugging at her lips. “Lou was very intimidating. Even with men.”

“So you don’t think Franklin killed him? I mean, your husband got run down by a car. That’s not exactly a face-to-face confrontation that he could control.” Something had changed in Tim’s expression; the cop was gone. My brother, the one who protected me, had taken his place, but this time, I could see he was feeling protective toward Rosalie.

I started to get a little worried. Rosalie may have been a victim of domestic abuse, but it was clear she knew how to use her feminine wiles, so to speak, to bring a man over to her side. And a thought began to germinate. What if Franklin had run down Lou Marino, but she was the one who put the idea into his head? What if she had said some things at work that would have made him think about it? She couldn’t have been blind to how he felt about her, and maybe she wanted to see how far he’d go to save her. What if she was the mastermind behind her husband’s death?

Personally, I wouldn’t blame her. And there probably wasn’t a jury in the world that would convict her. Dr. Colin Bixby had tended to her injuries in the hospital. There were records that could prove years-long abuse.

Maybe Ray Lucci’s death had been the impetus. And Will Parker’s claim that a red convertible had tried to run him down. And then Lou got mugged. Maybe that was for real, and then she’d figured another attempt on his life would be more believable. She’d turned on the charm with Franklin, got him to feel sorry for her, and-bam!-he runs down Lou Marino.

Okay, so I was getting a little carried away. None of that would explain why he would go after Jeff and me. Unless that was a total non sequitur. Nothing at all to do with Lou Marino. And what about Ray Lucci and that clip cord and my car?

“Do you think Franklin could have killed Ray Lucci?” I asked Rosalie, without waiting to find out whether she thought he’d killed her husband.

Rosalie looked at the floor. After a few seconds of hesitation, she said firmly, “Dan Franklin did not kill Ray Lucci.” As though she knew that for a fact. And if she did…

“So who did?” Tim prodded, picking up on this, too.

She blinked several times and shrugged. “Why ask me?”

“Because I think you know something,” Tim said. “What is it? What do you know about Ray Lucci’s murder?”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she insisted.

For a split second, I wondered whether she’d killed Lucci. But she must weigh a hundred pounds soaking wet, and Lucci was a big guy. Well, not so big he couldn’t fit in my trunk, but it would’ve been really difficult for Rosalie to have strangled him and then stuffed him in my car.

But she knew something. I was willing to bet on it. And in Vegas, bets are everything.

“If you know something, it would be best to tell us,” Tim said softly.

Rosalie sighed as she wrung her hands in front of her, her jaw tight. She was debating what she should say. I opened my mouth to ask another question, but Tim gave a short head shake and a glare, so I closed it again. He knew what he was doing. Me-well, I was just along for the ride.

Rosalie finally nodded. “Okay,” she said, her eyes locked with Tim’s. “I do know something, and I guess it doesn’t really matter now. Lou’s dead.”

As she paused, I wanted to scream, “Out with it!” but I didn’t think it would go over well. I forced myself to be patient.

Finally, when I thought I couldn’t stand it another minute, she spoke.

“Lou killed Ray Lucci.”