Rose watched as Campanile employees filed in a steady stream from the front doors, wearing white ID tags around their necks, talking, laughing, and lighting up cigarettes. Everybody went to their cars, chirping them unlocked on the way, like so many corporate crickets. It was mostly women in the beginning, then a mixed group later, many of the men in navy-blue Campanile polo shirts, carrying clipboards with navy covers or navy messenger bags that read THE CAMPANILE GROUP.
Rose had the driver’s side window open because it was hot and she didn’t want to keep the engine running, drawing attention to herself. The breeze carried some of the employees’ conversations, and she caught snippets of some: “I told you not to email him, just call, Sue. He owes you an explanation.” And, “We need to move the staircase, relocate it on the south side. Problem solved.” And, “Run the numbers, Don. Do the math!”
Rose checked the rearview again, and two men in suits came out, one short and bald, and the other with dark hair and a massive build, maybe six-two and two hundred and fifty pounds. The big one struck her as familiar, but she didn’t know where she knew him. He walked down the steps, bending to talk with the man, their conversation too low to hear.
She tried to place the big man as he walked toward a car. His suit jacket blew open in the breeze, showing a major paunch and something else. A gun, in a shoulder holster. She blinked, startled. She had seen him before, but she couldn’t place him at all. The big man raised his key fob and unlocked a navy-blue SUV that read THE CAMPANILE GROUP on the side door.
Rose stayed low, racking her brain. She hadn’t seen the big man at school. She would remember somebody that tall because she was tall. Where had she met him? At a party? She wasn’t invited to parties. On the street? She didn’t live here. She didn’t know anybody at Campanile. She’d never heard of the company until the fire.
Suddenly, the bald man stopped by his car and turned back, calling to the big man. “Hey, Mojo!” he yelled, and the big man turned.
“What?”
“I take it back. Thursday’s better!”
The big man waved, acknowledging him, then got into his SUV.
Mojo?
Rose didn’t know any Mojo. It was obviously a nickname. She grabbed her phone and thumbed to the photo function as the man reversed in the SUV, then put it in drive and drove past her. As he went by, she snapped his photo, saved it, then hit ZOOM to enlarge it and studied the man’s face. He looked so familiar. Long nose, dark hair, huge build.
Rose remembered how she’d recognized him. She’d seen him last night, on one of the videos she’d watched, from Tanya’s TV station. She thumbed to the Internet on her phone, plugged in the website for the TV station, and pressed until she got to stories about the fire. She found the link for Tanya’s “More on Moms” interview of Eileen Gigot, then pressed PLAY. She sat through the opening about single moms, then the story segued to the boilerplate about the Homestead factory. The photo of some men came onto the screen, and one of them stood much taller than the others.
She pressed STOP. The man in the photo looked like Mojo, but the screen was too small to read his full name. She didn’t know if it mattered, but she didn’t have time to think about it now.
Warren was walking toward her car.
Chapter Fifty-eight
“You made it, thank God.” Rose unlocked the door, and Warren eased his large frame into the passenger seat and sat down.
“Here’s the deal. I gotta tell you, I think we were wrong.”
“What do you mean?” Rose could hear a change in his tone, and his blue eyes had cooled. She started the engine. “What happened? What’d they do?”
“Nothing. I went in, talked to the HR lady, and filed out an ap. She told me Campanile has no jobs right now. They promote PMs from within.”
“PMs? Project managers?” Rose reversed out of the space, then cruised to the exit behind the other cars.
“Yes. I said I wanted to talk to somebody in the field, and they were all hanging out in the hallway, all nice guys, so she pulled one of ’em in. Chip McGlynn. I sat down with him, one-on-one. Take a left up here.” Warren pointed. “If you’ll drop me off at the train, I can still make my class. They told me the train station is on Lancaster Avenue. They even offered to drop me off.”
“Did he tell you who the electrical sub was, on the school?”
“No, he didn’t know the job, and I didn’t press it.”
“He didn’t know?” Rose left the parking lot after the other cars. “He’s a guy in the field, and he didn’t know about a job in the news?”
“To tell the truth, I think he did know, but he didn’t want to say. I get that. Lots of big-time GCs keep quiet about which subs they use. It’s like a trade secret.”
“You didn’t say that before.” Rose frowned, driving.
“No, but once I sat down with him, and saw the operation, and how sweet the offices are, and met Chip and the guys, it’s ridiculous to think they could murder anybody.”
“You can’t tell that from—”
“They even told me they’d give me the first job that came up, then move me up to PM if I make the grade. And if they call, I’ll take it.”
“You’d work for them?” Rose asked, surprised. “But they could be—”
“They got this thing they call the Wall of Fame, with tons of awards from every building association you can name, and some from the state, too. They get the big jobs.”
“But what about Kurt and Hank? The driving?”
“I can’t explain it, but there’s a lot of things that people do I can’t explain. I can tell you for sure, Chip and those guys didn’t kill them, or blow up an elementary school.” Warren shrugged his heavy shoulders. “They got photos of their kids everywhere. They sponsor a softball team, and for Make a Wish, they gave a little boy from Allentown a ride on a cherry picker.”
“But Kurt said they left the polyurethane.”
“Not exactly. He said, somebody left poly in the lounge, and I tell you, that’s not on purpose. It happens all the time. The average laborer, he’s a pig.”
Rose flashed on Mojo. “One of their guys carries a gun. I saw it.”
“He’s probably in security, or carries payroll or petty cash. People have guns, and it doesn’t mean they’re bad guys. Hell, my dad has two rifles in his truck, and he’s honest as they come.”
“This guy doesn’t look like he carries petty cash. He was an executive, with a tie. His name’s Mojo.”
“Mojo?” Warren’s eyes lit up. “I just met him. He’s a great guy. He’s their security guy. Joe Modjeska.”
Rose made a mental note of the name. “What do you mean, security guy?”
“Mojo’s the Director of Security. That’s why he carries. He shoots a sixty-three.”
Rose recoiled. “He shoots who?”
“No, in golf. He shoots a sixty-three. He won the celebrity golf tournament. Cole Hamel was in it, and Werth, too. Mojo told me he’d get me tickets, next year.” Warren looked as excited as a little boy. “I love the Phils!”
“Me, too, but Mojo isn’t with the Phils.” Rose turned onto Lancaster Avenue. “So they won you over.”
“No, I got a reality check.” Warren’s tone stiffened. “You should just forget the whole thing.”
“Do you think they manipulated you, intentionally?”
“Why would they? They don’t know who I am. I didn’t mention Reesburgh.”
Rose fell silent, cruising up the street, congested in front of the Dunkin’ Donuts, a bank, and a Starbucks. “Why does a construction firm need a Director of Security? Isn’t that strange?”
“Not at all. You know how much theft goes on at job sites? People steal everything they can carry. Materials like copper piping, generators, drills, any tools at all. We’re not big enough at Bethany Run to have a guy like that, but Campanile is.”
Rose tried to imagine it. “So Mojo would travel around and visit the Campanile sites, to check on security?”
“Yes, sure.”
“That means he would have access to all the sites, at any time. He’d even have keys.”
Warren put up his hands. “Stop, wait, don’t get carried away again.”
“He could have rigged the microwave or put the poly in the lounge.”
“That’s crazy.” Warren scoffed. “He’d never do that, and he’s not an electrician; he’s a guy at the top. I loved Kurt and Hank like they were my brothers, but I don’t think anybody murdered them.”
“I do.” Rose felt a shudder run up her spine, saying it out loud.
“Wrong. Kurt made a bad choice, and Hank wasn’t thinking, and they’re both gone now. Nothing can bring them back, and no sense can be made of their deaths.” Warren pointed to the left side of the street. “There’s the station.”
“Well, thanks for the assist.” Rose turned into the parking lot.
“You’re welcome.” Warren got out of the car, took out his duffel bag, and looked at her. “You’re not gonna let it go, are you?”
Rose thought of Leo, saying the same thing. “I can never let it go.”
“Suit yourself. Stay well.”
“You, too.” Rose watched him go, wondering what to do next. She was thinking about Mojo and his gun, and she needed to know more. She slid out her phone, logged onto the Internet, and plugged Joseph Modjeska into Google. There was a page of entries, and she clicked on the first link:
Break-In at Corporate Center
“… Director of Security Joe Modjeska said that he was pleased that the Campanile’s offices weren’t burglarized, and all of their laptops were…”
She clicked and read a few more mentions, but they were all press releases, followed by photos of Mojo at the celebrity golf tournament, with Justin Timberlake and Charles Barkley. She scrolled backwards in time and came upon the press release that announced Mojo’s hiring:
Campanile CEO Ralph Wenziger is pleased to announce the hiring of Joe Modjeska as the company’s new Director of Security. Wenziger stated, “Joe comes to us with enormous expertise, having spent the past four years at the Maryland Occupational Safety & Health Administration in Baltimore, Maryland…”
She looked at the date on the press release. It was less than six months ago, which meant that Mojo was new to Campanile. It seemed odd. She hadn’t gotten the idea from Warren that Mojo was a new hire. She navigated to whitepages.com, typed in his name, and found his address.
837 Hummingbird Lane Malvern, PA
Rose plugged it into her GPS system and hit START.
Chapter Fifty-nine
Rose parked outside of Mojo’s house, surprised. It was a fieldstone mansion, with a grand front door and a huge stone wing on either side. Tall trees surrounded the property in back, forming a screen of autumn color, and the house sat atop a steep hill, so far off the street she didn’t have to worry about being spotted. She guessed she was looking at a $1.5 million house and she was practically an expert. She’d done the shopping for the house in Reesburgh and reading the MLS listings was her idea of online porn.
She didn’t get it. Mojo had spent the last four years working for the state of Maryland and only six months at Campanile. Even if he was making a fortune now, how could he afford this house? What kind of security director had a multi-million-dollar house? What kind of state employee? Her phone interrupted her reverie, signaling she was getting a text. She picked it up and pressed to the text function. It was Leo:
Sorry, I’m too busy to call back. You okay?
Rose sighed. It wasn’t warm and fuzzy, but at least she was still married. She hit REPLY.
Yes. Take care. Love, Me.
She checked the dashboard clock: 7:15 P.M. The sky was darkening, and she could feel the air cooling through the open window. Her thoughts turned to Melly and John, and she called Gabriella, who picked up after one ring.
“Rose, how are you, my dear? Getting things done?”
“Yes, thanks. How are you holding up?”
“We’re all wonderful. Melly is out with Mo again, and John is fine, too. He discovered my bracelet, which amused him endlessly. He has expensive tastes.”
Rose eyed Mojo’s house. “I’m not finished just yet. Can you hang in another day or two, and I’ll keep you posted?”
“I hope you let us keep them until the weekend. Melly is making a garden with Mo. Wait’ll you see it.”
“Thanks so much,” Rose said, grateful. “I really appreciate this.”
“We know, now let me go. I have a baby to teach to say Grandma. Love you, bye.”
“You, too.” Rose pressed END, watching darkness fall. She felt at a loss, eyeing the house. She was so used to bouncing ideas off Leo, and it was hard to do all the thinking a cappella. Her gaze fell on the next-to-last text, which she hadn’t heard when it came in. It was from Annie.
What’s this about Thomas Pelal? Please call. You need me now.
Rose went to her phone log, found Annie’s number, and pressed CALL.
Chapter Sixty
Rose sat opposite Annie in a chair, next to a room-service table covered with the remains of roasted chicken. The aroma of rosemary filled the small hotel room, and its window overlooked the lights of Philadelphia and the Delaware River, black and thick as a python. She’d told Annie all about Thomas Pelal, bringing them both to tears, then caught her up on everything else, including Mojo’s mansion.
“Well, well, well.” Annie scratched her head, her blunt fingernails disappearing in her little corkscrews. “This Mojo guy is wack. He needs a gun, for what? To protect copper piping?”
“I know.” Rose hugged her knees to her chest, finally feeling validated. “So I’m not nuts?”
“No, I think he’s fishy, too, and it worries me, for your safety.” Annie shifted in the patterned chair, tugging the hem of a white sundress over her sleek legs. Her feet were bare, her toenails bright red. “I get that you don’t have enough evidence to go to the State Police with, but why don’t you hire a private detective? That would be safer.”
“I’d have to find one, and right now, I feel like I know what I’m doing and I want to do it myself. I want to get to the bottom of it, and somehow I think I’m the only one who can.”
“What if something else is going on, with you?” Annie pursed her lips. “What if you’re feeling so guilty about Amanda that you’re trying to find some nefarious cause of the fire, so nobody thinks it’s your fault?”
“No, I wish the town didn’t hate me, but that’s not it. It’s not about me, Amanda, or even Melly.”
“Are you trying to make up for what happened that night, with Thomas Pelal?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about him, Rose?” Annie cocked her head, her tone gentle. “I wouldn’t have judged you. It could have happened to anybody.”
“I was ashamed, embarrassed. It’s horrifying.” Rose ran her fingers through her hair. “But I finally let him go. I’ll always mourn him, but that’s something different.”
“I get that.” Annie tilted her heard backwards, appraising Rose with calm, dark eyes. “You know, I see a change in you. You’re digging in. Trying to get to what’s really going on.”
“Instead of running away?”
“Yes.” Annie smiled softly. “I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks,” Rose said, touched.
“The only problem is, I’m also worried.” Annie pursed her lips. “These dudes don’t play. I don’t like you spying on them, and they won’t either.”
“I know.” Rose had been starting to worry, too. She was a mother, and the sight of Mojo’s gun stuck in her mind.
Annie brightened. “I have an idea. You’re staying the night here, aren’t you? I have the extra bed.”
“I’d like to, if you don’t mind. I don’t want to go home to Reesburgh. I’m kind of betwixt and between.” Rose knew what the real problem was. “I hate when Leo and I are in a fight.”
“I feel you.” Annie shook he
r head, with a smile. “Look at us. Wild girls turned wives.”
“I know, right?” Rose thought ahead to seeing Leo, not knowing how that would work, then getting Melly back to school, and not knowing how that would work, either. “All of a sudden, I don’t fit into my old life.”
“You never did, girl. Now, you finally have a chance. Make a life that fits you. Leo will come around. It’s a rough patch, is all. That’s marriage.”
“We’ll see.” Rose knew it was more complicated than that. “We have to change a few things, both of us.”
“That’s just what I was thinking.” Annie stood up, newly energized. “I can help you with that.”
“How?”
“Get up. You’re staying the night, and we need to get started.” Annie was already in motion, heading toward her black bags, stacked up like blocks near the luggage carrier.
“What’s going on?”
“You’ll see.”
Chapter Sixty-one
Rose kept her eyes closed, while Annie worked her magic. The built-in vanity was covered with powders, blushes, mascara wands, used Q-tips, and little wedges of white sponges, like tiny pieces of wedding cakes. They’d done the major stuff last night and were putting on the final touches this morning. The hotel room was sunny and bright, and The Today Show played in the background, with Meredith Viera interviewing a French chef.
“You almost finished?” Rose sipped her cooling coffee, her eyes shut. They’d had another room-service meal, and she was ready to get going. She had already figured out her next move.
“Now lift your eyebrows, but don’t open your eyes. Two minutes until reveal.”
Rose felt the pencil filling in her brows. “It doesn’t have to be perfect.”
“Be still, or I’ll make you wear the fake nose.”
“I don’t need a fake nose.”
“So what? I make the best noses in the business. It’s a shame you don’t need one. It’s like ordering the salmon, in a steak house.”
“No nose. Hurry.”
“Okay, you’re a masterpiece. Open your eyes.”
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