Innocent 'til Proven Guilty

by Tricia Andersen

  As we parted, I turned back to the confused mongrel. I patted Frankie’s chest affectionately. “See, Monty. It’s all right. He’s friendly. Now, let’s go home.”

  I didn’t have to encourage the pup to follow. He trotted beside me without a care in the world. Frankie, however, was less than pleased with the situation.

  “Monty. What kind of name is that for a dog?” he huffed.

  “He’s named after the Montrose. I could name him after you, but then I would mix you both up.” I shot him a devilish grin.

  “I don’t want some mangy mutt named after me.”

  By the low growl, Monty seemed to take offense at Frankie’s remark. “Well, I think we’ll all be happy with Monty as his name.”

  “Livvy, you can’t keep him in the hotel.”

  “Watch me.”

  I swept through the front door and spun on my toe toward the manager’s office with Monty at my side. I was surprised to find Frankie still on my heels. I devised my plan of attack. I would promise to keep the dog quiet and out of the other guests’ hair. I would remind the man that there had recently been a murder right there in the hotel and a couple of attempts on my own life—Monty could be my protection.

  And if all else failed, I would turn on a few tears. Who could resist a weeping woman?

  The manager sat hunched over his desk, the sun streaming in through the window and glistening off his wavy, blond hair. I cleared my throat. As he looked up at me through his wire-rimmed spectacles, I asked for a moment of his time then sat in the chair across from him. My four-legged fella settled down beside me. My two-legged fella leaned against the doorway, still clearly displeased with my idea.

  It took little to convince the manager to let me keep Monty. He confessed he had been sneaking scraps of food from the Iowa Room for the stray for a while now. As long as there were no complaints from the other guests, the dog could stay. I thanked him and triumphantly strode from the office with both Frankie and Monty following.

  Frankie held open the door to my room and nudged Monty inside. Then, he closed it after.

  I gasped at him. “What are you doing?”

  “It’s time for supper. He’ll be fine.”

  “No, he won’t.” I threw the door open again and rushed to my whimpering pet. I wrapped my arms around his furry body to soothe him.

  “Livvy, I’m starving.”

  “Then go eat.”

  “Not without you.”

  “Then, he goes with us.”

  “He can’t go into the dining room.”

  My glare told Frankie I wasn’t budging. With an exasperated sigh, he stormed down the hall. I buried my face in Monty’s soft fur as tears burned my eyes.

  I wasn’t sure how much time passed. Then, a sound caught my attention. Frankie stood in the doorway of my room with three plates barely balanced in his hands. “We’ll eat here.”

  I bit my lip nervously. Having a single man who wasn’t kin alone with me in my bedroom was certainly taboo. He must have sensed my apprehension. A smile spread across his lips. “It’s just supper, lass.”

  “All right. Thank you.”

  Frankie stepped inside, leaving the door slightly open. He set one plate full of chicken pieces on the floor. Monty dove into the treats excitedly. He handed a second plate to me then sank down beside me on the bed. We exchanged a sweet smile before digging into our own meals.

  * * * *

  I woke up at the crack of dawn, stretching each muscle slowly as I sat. Then, I giggled as I felt my feet smothered in warmth. Monty lay across them as he softly snored. I wiggled my toes beneath him to get some feeling in them. He cracked a sleepy eye at me then let loose a huge yawn. He traveled my mattress on unsteady paws until he could slump back down at my side.

  We laid in bed, with me scratching him behind the ears, until the first rays of morning lit up the sky. I nudged him off the bed then stood to dress so I could take him on a walk.

  The sidewalks of downtown Cedar Rapids were near deserted at that hour of the morning. Only a few workmen heading to the factories mulled about. For being surrounded by miles of farmland on either side, the city was still asleep. I took a deep breath of crisp air and, with Monty next to me, started for the park where I found him.

  I stopped short as I heard voices. My heart skipped so many beats as I recognized the familiar slight brogue. My tongue slid across my bottom lip as I thought of Frankie and his kiss. Excitedly, I turned the corner in order to see him.

  I bit back a gasp at what I saw. He was working that early in the morning, painting the weathered brick of the hotel with four other employees of the Montrose. He dabbed a brush into a metal bucket then stroked paint onto the wall. With his right hand. The hand that had held the gun as he stood over H.M. Goodrich’s lifeless body. Frankie wasn’t a southpaw.

  He’d lied to me. The blood in my veins turned to ice as the truth struck me with the force of one of those bricks. I was working to free the real murderer. I was falling in love with the real murderer.

  My feet scuttled in retreat before Frankie saw me. I led Monty in the opposite direction for his walk. As we wandered, my mind spun. I couldn’t trust Frankie. What was I going to do? Tell the sheriff I was wrong? Could my heart forgive me for doing such a thing?

  I did know one thing. I wasn’t going to be in my room when Frankie came to get me. I turned on my toe and headed back to the hotel. Monty followed behind.

  Changing into my newly cleaned suit as fast as I could, I brushed my hair until it bounced in content, auburn waves. I applied just a tiny bit of makeup to get by for the day. Tugging on my shoes, I dashed out the door, shutting it as quietly as I could.

  It wasn’t until I had walked halfway to The Gazette that I realized Monty was prancing along beside me. I stared at him confused. Did I try to persuade Vic to let me keep the dog at the newspaper? I couldn’t go back to the Montrose because Frankie…

  It was the final straw. The tears exploded from my eyes. I slumped to the sidewalk and wrapped the pup in my arms. I was suffering my first broken heart, and I wasn’t even really seeing the man. I had sacrificed my dreams for a lie. What could I possibly do now?

  I was in a fog the entire day. All I could think about was Frankie and what I had discovered. Vic shouted at me at least twice. But I couldn’t focus on his words. I did notice that his face turned a lovely shade of tomato red when he was angry.

  Monty stayed under my desk at my feet, keeping as far away from my editor as he could. Every once in a while, he would gently lick at my knee consolingly. Even though we had only been together for less than a day, the pup could sense my heartbreak.

  I slipped out of work a half an hour early. My mind wasn’t in the right place, and Vic’s patience with the whole staff had grown dangerously thin.

  The last thing I wanted to do was see Frankie. I couldn’t face him. Granted, he wasn’t the first man to have lied to me. Frankly, most of the boys in my college had told me a lie at some point to get me to go on a date with them.

  But this was different. I had believed he was innocent. I had believed in him as a man. I sighed miserably. I had fallen in love with him.

  Much to my relief, I didn’t see Frankie all night. I ordered a sandwich for dinner and hid in my room just in case. He never came to my door. I guess he didn’t have the same feelings for me that I had for him, after all. As the sunset painted my room in brilliant golds and oranges, I cried myself to sleep.

  I walked the silent sidewalks of Cedar Rapids at dawn the next day as I made my way to the riverside park so that Monty could play. As I did the day before, I hurried to dress upon our return and then left for The Gazette. Monty again joined me and kept vigil under my desk. I didn’t particularly like my new schedule, but it meant I hadn’t seen Frankie for the second day in a row. And soon, I would use my pay from The Gazette to buy a ticket to Chicago.

  Again, with Vic’s irritated permission, I snuck out of work a half an hour early. For a moment, I thought I wou
ld get back to the hotel undetected. But then I froze, tears pooling in my eyes, as Frankie’s voice appeared from nowhere.

  “Where have you been, lass?” he snapped. “I was here yesterday to walk you home from work, but that obnoxious woman who was your boss for a day told me you had left already. And you leave the hotel before I get there. Don’t you remember you almost died twice?”

  I couldn’t answer him or even turn to look at him. I only whimpered.

  “Livvy, are you all right?” he questioned with concern.

  “I know you did it,” I stammered.

  “Did what?”

  “You…killed H.M. Goodrich.”

  “What? No, I didn’t. What makes you think I did?”

  “I saw you painting with your right hand. You’re not a south paw.”

  Frankie strode over to me and spun me around. His voice was a low growl, “I have something to show you.” He took my hand and led me down the street to the hotel. I struggled to keep up with him. My better sense told me to dig my heels in and refuse to follow.

  We stopped in front of the wall I had seen Frankie painting the day before. I gasped then flushed, embarrassed. Most of the wall was well painted. The section he had worked with, however, was very sloppily done. He let go of my hand then clenched his fists on his hips.

  “I was sent home for two days because of poor work. I was fooling around with the guys to get a few laughs and meant to clean it up. Ed caught me first and tore into me. Tomorrow, I get to spend the entire day re-painting.” He shook his head, his black hair waving with each toss. “I thought you had faith in me, Livvy. I thought you were different from the rest. Now, I know I was wrong.”

  I opened my mouth to protest, but it was too late. He had stormed down the street, leaving me alone.

  Chapter Four

  I hid in my room until well after sundown, sobbing. Monty curled up next to me, laying his muzzle on my lap for support. I had never meant to hurt Frankie. It was the last thing in the world I wanted to do. I had let my investigative reporter instincts take over again. But they hadn’t gotten me into trouble this time. Instead, they had broken his heart.

  The sounds from the street below my room jolted me out of my misery. I couldn’t let this go. I had to attempt to make things better. Maybe Frankie would listen. Maybe he wouldn’t. I had to try at least.

  I slipped my shoes on and beckoned to Monty to follow. We wound our way to the front desk. I asked for directions to where Frankie lived, making the lame excuse that I needed to return a book I had borrowed. The clerk shot me a suspicious glare as she scribbled it down on a piece of paper. With a polite “thank you,” Monty and I stepped out into the street.

  I sorted out the desk clerk’s chicken scratches as I wandered down the sidewalk with Monty. The directions led us across the bridge, past the courthouse, and to the west side of the Cedar River. After a couple turns and a few more blocks, we stopped in front of a modest, white painted, two-story house. I double-checked the address on the slip of paper. This was the house. With a deep breath, I knocked on the door.

  It took a few moments for it to open. When it did, standing in the doorway was the ebony-haired girl I had seen with Frankie in the Iowa Room the day I had arrived in Cedar Rapids. That seemed so long ago…”Can I help you?” she murmured.

  “Poppy, right?” I addressed.

  “Yeah. Who are you?”

  “My name is Livvy. I’m a friend of Frankie’s. Is he home?”

  She stared at me in silence for a long, hard moment. Then, she shouted into the house, “Frankie! You have company!”

  My heart thundered as I heard Frankie’s boot steps on the wood floor. Slow and deliberate. It was music to my ears. He stopped dead in his tracks when his eyes met mine.

  “What do you want?” he growled.

  “Can we talk? Please?” I pleaded.

  He waved Poppy away and stepped outside. Then, he let go a hopeless laugh. “You really do have a death wish, Olivia. You’re a very far way from the Montrose.”

  I took another deep breath and began, “I’m sorry for what I did, Frankie. I should have believed you.”

  “Yes, you should have.”

  “I let my investigative reporter get the better of me.”

  “And that needs to stop.”

  “I know. You’re right. I’ve never been in love before. I don’t know how to act.”

  “Are you saying you’re in love, now?”

  I stared at him, dumbfounded. I was so new at love that it hadn’t occurred to me there needed to be two people involved. And maybe Frankie wasn’t in love with me, after all. So, I took a leap of faith. “Yes.”

  All of the sudden, I was caught in his arms, his lips brushing mine apart for a warm, sweet kiss. We didn’t break apart as a voice echoed from in the house.

  “What are you doing out there, Frankie? Invite your friend inside.”

  Frankie threaded his fingers between mine, leading me in. The living room, which was right inside the door, was dark. I could make out the shadows of several meager pieces of antique furniture. He tugged me down the narrow hallway lined with countless black and white family photos toward the kitchen.

  At the oak table sat two older women and Poppy. Playing cards were scattered in four piles among glasses of amber liquid. In the center of the table next to a vase of wildflowers was an old bottle of Irish whiskey. I tucked against Frankie as three pairs of eyes studied me.

  “Frankie, are you going to introduce us to your friend?” the thinner of the two women quizzed. She brushed an ebony lock of hair away from her face.

  “Yes, Ma. This is Livvy. She’s from Nebraska. She works for The Gazette now.”

  The other woman, who was almost identical to the other, but with silver hair and a few more curves, looked at me with a puzzled expression. “Livvy Randall? The new news reporter? I’ve read your stories. You’re a fantastic writer.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” I gushed.

  “How do you know my son, Livvy?” Frankie’s mother questioned.

  “Livvy is helping me with my…problem, Ma. She’s been looking for the real murderer,” he defended.

  “Well, I’m grateful to you, lass. There aren’t a lot of folks here that would be willing to stick their necks out for my boy like you have.”

  I looked at Frankie, my eyes begging to know just how much he had told his family about me. His grin answered that he had told them quite a bit.

  “Are you sure that’s all that’s going on between you two?” His aunt laughed.

  “She’s his girlfriend,” Polly grumbled. “I’ve seen them kissing.”

  “Polly, keep your nose in your own business,” Frankie snapped.

  Their mother slapped her hand on the table. “Both of you quit your bickering. That’s not the way you act when a guest is here.” She turned to me and smiled. “Livvy, would you like to join us for a hand of cards?”

  I nodded. “That sounds like fun. Thank you.”

  Frankie let go of my hand to find me a seat. His aunt stood and crossed the kitchen to get a glass from the cupboard. She filled it with whiskey then set it in the empty place where Frankie’s mother had just dealt my cards. I stared at the liquid uneasily. I had never tried whiskey. But it would be impolite to refuse it. I was distracted from my discomfort by Frankie setting a chair beside me. I settled onto it.

  The family resumed the conversation they had started before I had arrived. I watched them, fascinated, as they talked and played cards. It was obvious the women adored Frankie. And he was very protective of them.

  They asked questions of me. I did my best to answer them. I glanced at Frankie to find him observing me with pride. I giggled and grabbed my glass. Before I realized it, I had taken a sip. It burned as it slid down my throat, but I liked the taste. I took another and played my next card.

  It was well after midnight when the ladies picked up the tumblers and set them in the huge kitchen sink. Frankie whispered in my ear, “Let me walk
you back to the hotel.”

  Nodding, I stood. I quickly said my good-nights before Frankie took me by the hand and led me to the door.

  * * * *

  I stretched all my limbs as the morning sunlight filled my room. Monty hopped off the foot of my bed and did the same. A contented sigh escaped my lips as I flopped back against the pillows.

  The stroll with Frankie back to the Montrose after spending the evening with his family had been simply heavenly. He had held my hand the whole time, stopping several times to press warm, tender kisses against my mouth. No place in the world was better than being in his arms.

  I stopped my memories to think. Did I love him? I couldn’t stop thinking of him. He filled my dreams. I hated myself when I hurt him. I had never felt this way about anyone else before. I giggled to myself. Monty’s furry head popped up at the sound. Oh, yes. I had fallen in love with Frankie O’Carney.

  I climbed out of bed and dressed. I brushed my hair until the curls popped back happily. Then, I opened the door to take Monty out for a walk before leaving for work.

  We had barely taken three steps out the front door of the hotel when I was grabbed from behind. My heart thundered, panicked, for a second or two. I just as quickly relaxed as a pair of lips wandered the curve of my neck.

  “Good morning, luv,” Frankie purred, his slight brogue still thick with sleep. “Where are you going?”

  “To take Monty for his morning walk,” I answered. “Why are you here so early?”

  “Got to get started on the wall. But I have time to join you.” Frankie let me go then laced his fingers with mine. He stopped for a moment to rustle the mutt’s fur. Monty nuzzled close to his leg in appreciation. I smiled. Finally, it looked like my boys were getting along.

  Frankie and I talked as we weaved our customary path through downtown Cedar Rapids. I huffed sadly when we returned to the hotel. Frankie watched me with concern. “What is it, Livvy?”