"I met your charming niece yesterday."
"She is charming," Hilary agreed. “Smart. And a knock-out. You could do worse."
"Aunt Hilary!"
Skelly smothered a grin at her obvious matchmaking.
Hilary ignored her niece's outrage. “If there's anything you want to know about Rosalind, feel free to ask me," she continued, fetching fresh lemon, a pitcher of cream and an assortment of preserves from the refrigerator. “I raised her, you know."
"You did?" The first he'd heard of it.
"I mean, I helped Claudia," Hilary quickly amended. “For years, we all lived in the Winnetka house together – Noah and me, Claudia, Rip and Rosalind. I know my niece's faults as well as her virtues, though the virtues outweigh everything else, of course."
"Can we change the subject?" Roz pleaded.
Skelly noted she was avoiding looking at him.
Hilary sighed. “If we must."
"My aunt is a confirmed romantic," Roz muttered through her teeth.
"What's wrong with that?" Skelly whispered. “She's very sweet. Besides, I wouldn't mind hearing more about those faults of yours."
Her blue eyes widened and connected with his. A becoming flush stole up her neck. Skelly decided he liked putting her off-balance.
As if Roz could read his mind, she muttered, “Oh, stuff it!"
Clucking to herself, Hilary fetched the scones from the toaster oven and joined them at the table. For a few moments, everyone concentrated on the refreshments. Pouring tea. Preparing their scones. Skelly took a big bite and washed it down with hot Earl Grey. His complaining stomach thanked him profusely.
He noticed that, while Hilary went through the motions, she didn't put a thing to her mouth.
"So, you really think you can find some evidence to exonerate Lily at this late date?" she asked.
She was running her forefinger around and around the rim of her mug as if she were bothered by something.
"At least to cast some doubt on the verdict," Roz piped in, her voice muffled since her mouth was half-full.
"What do you think?" Skelly asked the older woman. “Was Lily telling the truth when she confessed?"
"My sister-in-law might have been a lot of things, but to my knowledge, she was not a liar."
Hilary was hedging...and something in her eyes put Skelly on alert. He wondered what she meant by a lot of things. “What were you doing staying in Lily's house?"
"Lily's house? Oh, no. Noah bought and renovated this place after he came back from the war front. Lily'd had a difficult time here as a girl, and Noah wanted the people in her past to sit up and take notice of what she'd become. She visited once, made a big splash, then didn't feel the need to return...not until years later when she wanted some distance from her marriage. At any rate, after he and Lily were reunited, Noah didn't need me the way he used to."
"So you moved from Winnetka to Galena."
"Why not? There was no room for me in Lily's household. Figuratively speaking. She was still the star Hollywood made her even if she had retired from movie-making. Besides, I loved it here."
Roz said, “So you were living here permanently when Lily left Grandfather," as if she hadn't realized it before.
Hilary nodded. “And I stayed through all of her comings and goings, dragging that poor child with her, when she couldn't make up her mind about the divorce."
Skelly mulled over the information that was new to him, duly noting the undercurrent of animosity Hilary had for her sister-in-law. Roz had told him that after Noah's retirement, he'd insisted on moving to Galena – to be closer to Lily's memory – and Hilary had naturally accompanied him. She'd never mentioned her aunt's love of the place, possibly because Hilary never had revealed it before. How curious.
And the fact that Hilary moved from Winnetka to Galena because of Lily, then back to Winnetka after Lily was incarcerated, said a lot about their relationship. Skelly figured Hilary couldn't have been too happy when her sister-in-law chose to invade what she must have thought of as her territory.
He backtracked a bit. “So Lily was poor before she met Noah?"
Hilary nodded. “And a bit wild or she never would have gone Hollywood while he was off fighting a war. Small-town people don't approve of wild."
And Skelly had the distinct feeling that Hilary included herself in the consensus. Aware of a noise coming from the front of the house, he asked, “What do you remember about the night Frank Sullivan died?"
"I made dinner for me and Claudia while Frank and Lily ate at a restaurant in town. After Claudia went upstairs to bed, I took a long walk. She was thirteen and very mature," Hilary added, as if she'd received criticism from someone about leaving the girl alone.
"Why a long walk?"
"I had some thinking to do." Her voice quavered. “About personal things. I didn't return until after the sheriff's men arrived."
Skelly wondered. Hilary now had a death-grip on her mug. Because the memory of what she'd found was so upsetting? Or could there be something more...
"Did you notice anything unusual?" he asked. “Out of place?"
"I didn't usually have a dead body sprawled over my parlor floor –“
A thunderous voice interrupted. “What's going on here? Why are you giving my sister the third degree?"
Skelly turned to the doorway as Roz shot out of her chair.
"Grandfather, there you are!" She stood on tiptoe to kiss his weathered cheek.
While Hilary looked younger than sixty-something, Skelly decided Noah Lang looked every bit of seventy-five. White-haired. Old-age thin. A back too stiff to be natural. Arthritic hands.
But continuing to be the focus of Noah's angry glare, Skelly chose not to underestimate the power of this man, no matter his advanced years.
"WE'RE DOING ONLY WHAT we came to do," Skelly said, rising. “I thought you were in agreement."
Noah tightened his jaw. He never would have agreed to anything if Rosalind hadn't been so convincing. She'd assured him she and that so-called newsman would research other people who'd known Frank Sullivan to see if they could dig up possible suspects or motives for his murder. Rosalind said all she wanted was to place reasonable doubt in the minds of Skelly McKenna's audience if not in the authorities. How could he have refused her without arousing her suspicions?
"I didn't agree to a circus, young man, and that's what you're turning this story into. We've already been through that once."
"You're being unfair, sir. All I did was alert my viewers that I was taking another look into the facts."
"Bah!" Noah waved Skelly off. “Sensationalism is sensationalism. I should have known better."
"Grandfather, Skelly did agree to research the story personally on my urging." His granddaughter looked up at him with a worried expression. “I thought that would make you happy."
"The only thing that'll make me happy is having my darling Lily at my side for whatever little time I have left on this earth."
"If we can find the real killer, that might be possible," the reporter said. “That is...if she's actually innocent."
"You can count on that. Lily never killed anyone, no matter what foolishness she spouted."
A pang of regret stabbed him in the heart for the millionth time. He hadn't had his wits about him or he wouldn't have gone along with it. He would have figured some other way out. He never should have let Lily plead guilty.
He never should have let her be locked up for something that he knew she didn't do.
Chapter Four
ROSALIND HOPED SHE HADN'T MADE a mistake in pursuing the past, that her convincing Skelly to investigate wouldn't cause her grandfather more heartache than if she'd ignored his story about Lily. They got through an early dinner in a civilized manner. Taking her lead in keeping the conversation away from the reason they were here, Skelly kept to questions about the Galena area. He might have been a curious tourist.
Afterward, they gathered in the front parlor...the scene of the crime.
Rosalind had never found anything sinister about the room, perhaps because, shortly after the murder, her aunt had ordered it stripped and totally redecorated. The room had been repainted since, but not much else had changed, at least not that she could remember. Nearly forty years old and reminiscent of a much earlier era, the cream, blue and rose decor remained timelessly elegant.
Her grandfather sat in the wing-back chair closest to the fireplace, which could only be fueled by coal. Skelly made himself comfortable in the matching chair, while she and her aunt shared the couch facing both men.
And within a matter of seconds, Rosalind saw Skelly change from affable guest to dogged reporter.
"We need to get back to the reason we're here," he told her grandfather. “If you really believe Lily didn't murder Sullivan, did you try to convince her to change her story?"
Bony hands gripping the arms of his chair, Noah said,” She was utterly determined in her path."
"Did she give you a reason for killing him?"
"No."
"My grandmother never explained her actions to anyone," Rosalind said.
"Because she didn't do it!"
"Noah, calm down," Hilary pleaded. “You know too much excitement isn't good for you."
"Bah!"
Her aunt's warning sent a renewed wave of worry washing through Rosalind. Her grandfather put on a good show, but she wasn't sure he was as healthy as he would like people to believe. He'd retired not because he was unable to run Temptress, but because he'd had a heart attack. A mild one, but who knew how serious the next one could be.
"Grandfather, we're on your side." At least she was. Skelly was a loose cannon, though she wouldn't say so in front of her elderly relatives. “Please remember that. We need your help if we're ever going to get to the truth."
She noticed her grandfather's fingers tightened around the chair arms.
And Skelly continued.” You obviously still cared for your wife even though she was determined to divorce you."
"I loved Lily. I'll love her until the day I die."
"Then surely you hired a private investigator in an effort to clear her name."
"No."
"I don't understand. You're a man of means–"
"Lily didn't want me to interfere. She insisted I leave well-enough alone."
"But a man in love would go to any lengths to prove his lady innocent."
"A man respects the wishes of the woman he loves."
The line of questioning was making Rosalind uneasy. This wasn't like him. He'd bullied her into line often enough while she was growing up. Her grandfather never gave up when he wanted something. And, more than anything, he'd wanted his Lily...
Attempting to turn the conversation in a less disturbing direction, she asked, “Is there someone in particular you suspected of the crime?"
"I wasn't here much, so I didn't know many of the locals. But it could be anyone," her grandfather said. “Political enemies. Someone in Sullivan's own party who was jealous of him. And then there's the widow."
Hilary quickly added, “Diane Sullivan remarried real fast, a few months after the trial – Perry Nesmith, antique shop owner. They still run the shop together. A person could get the impression Diane didn't grieve at all for her husband's death. Then, again, if she knew Frank wasn't faithful to her..."
"Why should she be loyal to him," Rosalind finished.
Skelly asked her aunt, “Were there any signs of a break-in that night?"
“None. Most of the windows were open, but that wasn't anything unusual."
Rosalind looked at the bay windows that were even now wide open. “Was there a screen missing?"
Her aunt shook her head. “The man I occasionally hired to do chores kept promising to put them up, but he never got around to it."
"Open windows. No screens. Easy entry and exit." Skelly ticked off the points on his fingers and nodded. “That gives us opportunity for practically anyone. By the way, Mr. Lang, when did you arrive on the scene?"
"Got into Galena first thing in the morning. A little after six."
"That was approximately a half-dozen hours after the body was discovered. Fast work. Who put the call in to you?"
Rosalind shifted. What was Skelly's point?
"The sheriff, of course."
"In the middle of the night?"
"I was still her husband." Noah rose. “If you don't have any other questions..."
For a moment Rosalind thought Skelly was going to object. Then his expression changed subtly. “They can wait."
"I'll come up with you, Noah."
And Rosalind couldn't help but note the subtle change in her aunt as Hilary joined her brother...almost as if she were nervous about something.
"Before you go," Skelly said as they moved to the doorway. “It's not too late to visit the widow if one of you can give us the Nesmith address."
"As far as I know, they still live in the limestone mansion Frank Sullivan bought for Diane shortly before his death," Hilary said. “On the other side of Route 20. “She gave them directions if not an exact address.
"We'll find it," Rosalind assured her aunt.
She fetched her purse, and a few minutes later, they were on their way.
"So what do you expect we'll get out of Diane Nesmith?" she asked Skelly once they were in the Thunderbird, with her behind the wheel again.
"Information about any cronies who might have been jealous or had a grudge against Sullivan."
"If she remembers after all this time. Besides, he may not have brought his work home with him."
"If nothing else...a reaction."
She pulled the car out of the parking spot and nosed it south. “Nearly forty years later?"
"Trust me. If she's been hiding anything, her nerves will tell."
His statement sent yet another wave of uneasiness through Rosalind. Surely Aunt Hilary wouldn't hide anything from her. Nor would Grandfather. Going over their every reaction to the situation since they'd arrived that afternoon, she wasn't focused on her driving.
"A stop sign."
She stomped the brake pedal which had more give than usual. The car slid to a stop in the middle of the intersection.
"I guess you shouldn't have bothered."
"We should have stopped sooner.” Accelerating, Rosalind glanced at the dash. “The brake light is on. I must be a little low on fluid."
"I assume gas stations are open this late, even in a small burg like this one."
"You're not worrying about your safety in my hands, are you?" she joked.
"If I was actually in your hands...”
A glance at Skelly made Rosalind flush. He was leering at her, but the sparkle in his eyes told her he was teasing. Or was he? Conscious of his continuing gaze on her, she noted they were approaching the next corner.
She stepped on the brake, but the pressure on the pedal diminished. It seemed like forever before they came to a complete stop. Still, she was confident that she could get as far as the gas station on Route 20, or she never would have accelerated again.
Her mistake.
The rest of the ride was downhill all the way, the incline one of the steepest in Galena. From a distance, she saw another vehicle's lights sweep the cross street. She applied her brakes in what she hoped was plenty of time.
Her foot went straight to the floor.
And rather than slowing, the Thunderbird picked up speed on the downward pitch.
"Omigod! The brakes are gone!"
She stomped on the pedal hard to no avail. Her only reward was a sharp twinge across her foot and ankle.
"Throw the car into a lower gear, “Skelly said more calmly than she was feeling.
Rosalind shifted into first. The other vehicle came to a stop at the intersection. The Thunderbird bucked, slowed a bit, but kept right on rolling.
"Don't move. Don't move!" she implored. As if she were close enough for the other driver to hear.
"Whatever you do, don't panic," S
kelly said grimly.
But now Rosalind could make out the small car holding a woman and several kids. A sick feeling filled her. The other vehicle crept into the intersection. Even in first, the Thunderbird accelerated because of the steep grade.
"Oh, get moving, please!"
She flashed her brights rapidly. Like a wild animal mesmerized by the unexpected, the other car stopped dead, the driver staring their way. And Rosalind's short life flashed through her mind. She yanked the wheel and swerved to the right. As if goosed, the other car suddenly shot off. The Thunderbird cleared its tail if only by inches.
Screaming voices followed her.
"You did it." Skelly placed a hand on her thigh and squeezed. “Now keep your head and we'll be all right."
Hard to do when they were shooting down the steep grade, the speedometer still climbing.
"The emergency brake," she muttered.
"We're going too fast."
"Tell me about it. What choice do I have?"
Stomach churning, her left foot found the pedal. She shoved down hard. Again the Thunderbird lurched and slowed. Then a heavy metal smell permeated the car and the great thunk accompanied by another lurch that followed told her the cable had snapped. Though the hill was leveling out to flat ground, the Thunderbird's speed was barely affected.
"Damn!" Straight ahead at the end of the incline, she could see bright lights and traffic. Her adrenaline shot up another notch. “The highway!"
"You can do this."
Skelly was no longer trying to disguise his anxiety. Rosalind had the distinct suspicion that more than anything in the world, he wished he could take control of the car as easily as he had her. She gave him credit that he didn't try to wrest the steering wheel from her grip.
"I'll turn right and aim for the shoulder," she told him.
"Good thinking."
To give herself the best shot possible, she steered into the opposing traffic's lane. Sweat prickled her skin and her stomach twisted itself into a big fat knot.
The highway fast approached.
Trying to breathe normally, Rosalind inched the wheel to the right, nosing the Thunderbird at an angle across the street so the speedy turn wouldn't be so sharp. Close enough to hear the highway traffic, she chanced a quick look over her shoulder. A sixteen-wheeler whizzed by. The next vehicle appeared to be some distance behind.
The McKenna Legacy Trilogy Page 25