Making her fight the fear once more.
Chapter Eleven
Bright sunlight streamed into the room, reflecting Rosalind's upbeat mood as she combed and twisted her hair into a loose knot. Their clothes had been delivered first thing, nearly as good as new, and Skelly had fetched her purse from the car before jumping into the shower. His off-key voice rising above the sound of water made her grin.
Then, again, her misgivings laid to rest at least for the moment, his astonishing declaration of love echoing in her mind, she hadn't been able to stop smiling since she'd awakened in Skelly's arms.
He hadn't taken his hands off her all night.
A sharp ring startled her from further contemplating the love issue. Skelly's cell phone – she fetched it from the night stand. Expecting his cousin Keelin was checking up on him, she was a little unsettled when the woman on the other end identified herself as Heidi Neville.
Wondering what the woman's relationship with Skelly was, she said, “He's unavailable at the moment."
"Darn. I really need to talk to him and I'm leaving in a few minutes. Will he be long?"
"He's in the shower," Rosalind informed her, then realized that, in a not-so-subtle way, she was staking her claim.
"Oh."
"I can take a message."
"I suppose that'll have to do." Heidi sounded disappointed. “Tell Skelly that I spent last evening getting acquainted with Anthony Cavillo like he asked."
"Excuse me?"
"This is Rosalind Van Straaten, right?"
"Well, yes.“
"I just figured Skelly would have told you I was working back-up. I'm a researcher for The Whole Story."
Rosalind felt both foolish...and relieved. “I have so much on my mind that I wasn't thinking," she hedged. “Let me find something to write on." She pulled a pad of paper and pen from a drawer. “Go ahead."
"I found several more articles about Cavillo locking horns with Frank Sullivan over zoning for River Bluff. They certainly were adversarial. Some of the quotes were real personal and just short of being lawsuit material. I also dug up the name of the man who finally got the zoning pushed through several years later. Walt Rogowski."
"Rogowski," Rosalind echoed, immediately on alert.
"Right. And a few years back, Rogowski was responsible for influencing the legislature to give Cavillo's cartel an okay to start their river boat gambling operation."
Rocked by the implication, she said, “Heidi, I hope they pay you what you're worth."
"They don't, but I'm confident Skelly will come through for me."
"You deserve a raise."
"I'm hoping for a whole lot more. If Skelly can break the story he's after, his competition will fall by the wayside. Then that promotion to the prime time slot will be his, and he'll take me with him."
"I see." Though she didn't see why Skelly had never mentioned a possible promotion. Or Heidi. “Anything else?"
"That's it. Tell him to get in touch if he wants me to fax him the articles. Or to dig deeper."
Replacing the cell phone, Rosalind realized no shower sounds were coming from the bathroom. The door opened and Skelly exited, wearing only his trousers and towel-drying his hair. Desire flared anew deep inside her, and she wondered if she would ever get enough of him.
Hooking the towel around his neck, he indicated the pad of paper. “What's up?"
Unbelievable how easily he could distract her from something so important. “You had a call while you were in the shower."
She handed him her scribbles and relayed her conversation with Heidi in detail...all but the promotion part.
"Interesting," he said, “considering Rogowski led us to Cavillo."
"That's what I thought. Why would he have cooperated with the man in the past, only to point a finger at him now?"
"Maybe he's learned something about Cavillo that doesn't sit well. Something that, if he went public, might make voters question his judgment."
"But he might not be adverse to letting someone else do the dirty work."
Standing in front of the dresser, Skelly picked up the photograph she'd taken from the hatbox. “What if Sullivan blocked Cavillo's zoning request because he wanted to even an old score?"
"What kind of score?"
He flipped the photo around. “How about Lily?"
Then it hit her. “The boy she's dancing with is Anthony Cavillo."
No wonder he'd looked familiar – she'd seen the photocopy, though the mature Cavillo had far less hair.
"You didn't realize that before?"
"I'm afraid not. I did recognize Sullivan and meant to show the photo to you, though." Taking it from Skelly, she said, “Cavillo and Sullivan go way back, even before this. Lily kept photos of the three of them together from the time they were all kids."
"The Three Musketeers?" He pulled a face and nodded. “Our conversation with Cavillo should prove to be interesting, wouldn't you say? This could be the break we've been waiting for."
Or the break he'd been waiting for...
As he finished dressing, Rosalind flashed on her conversation with Heidi and the importance of Skelly's getting a hot story. He'd led her to believe he'd been intrigued by the challenge as well as by her. But he hadn't admitted to the whole truth – that an important promotion hung on the outcome of their investigation.
The omission filling her with doubt about the nature of Skelly's feelings for her.
ANTHONY CAVILLO STOPPED WATERING his maidenhair fern long enough to get a good look at the visitors his receptionist escorted into his office. What piece of misfortune led Rosalind Van Straaten and Skelly McKenna to his door? They had nerve – he'd give them that - sticking around after what had gone down the night before.
"Sit."
Rolling the unlit cigar to the corner of his mouth, he indicated the modern leather couch indicative of his personal decorating taste. His office was a welcome refuge from the rest of the overly rustic lodge.
"Mr. Cavillo, how nice of you to see us on a Sunday," Rosalind said.
As they made themselves at home, he stared for a moment at the Lily Lang look-alike, conjuring memories of his first love, most of them good.
Ah, Lily, why'd you have to leave?
She'd been his kind of woman. So vibrant. Outgoing. Outrageous. Sexy. Irresistible. The Blonde Temptress . The moniker fit her perfectly.
The granddaughter seemed more reserved, not a flamboyant bone in her body. Yet he wondered if it wasn't her physical similarity to Lily that had prompted her to dig into ancient history that had nothing to do with her. She'd never even had a chance to meet her infamous grandmother, so why else would she be going to all this trouble?
Keeping a sharp eye on both of them, he said, “I hope the accommodations were to your liking."
Rosalind pulled a face. “How did you know we stayed here last night?"
Attending to his cup-and-saucer vine, he said, “Nothing goes on around River Bluff without my knowing. Not much in Jo Daviess County does."
"Good," McKenna said. “Then you should be a fount of information for us."
For the moment finished with his plants – the calming hobby helped keep his volatile temper in check – Anthony claimed the deep leather chair opposite the couch. He removed the cigar from his mouth.
"Can't even light one of these things any more. Heart attack." He dropped it into an ashtray on a nearby occasional table. “Don't get old if you can help it." Changing gears, staring at the other man, he asked, “What makes you think I intend to tell you anything?"
"Why wouldn't you cooperate...unless you have something to hide?"
Exactly the reason he couldn't have some damn reporter sniffing around.
Beating him to a response, Rosalind diplomatically stated, “Anything you can tell us about Frank Sullivan's death would be helpful."
Big surprise. “Thirty years is a long time."
"But you and he were friends."
Anthony regarded her. �
�Were we?"
"My grandmother's old photographs say so."
"As kids, we all hung out together."
"What ended the friendship?" She clarified, “Between you and Sullivan?"
"Lily left town. Frank and me decided we didn't have anything in common."
McKenna shifted impatiently. “Are you sure it wasn't because Sullivan was jealous of you and Lily?"
Shrugging, Anthony said, “Her and me, we were simpatico, maybe because people treated us both like we were worthless. White trash. Frank was from the other side of the tracks. He had whatever his heart desired. Except for Lily." Remembering the old days made him nostalgic. “We had drive, though. Both made something of ourselves. Lily was always a looker. Probably every red-blooded male in the county was jealous."
"But not every male had the opportunity to get even by trying to stop you from building River Bluff on state-owned land."
The corner of his eye twitched at the reminder of the devil's pact he'd made to get the clearance. “Only one small tract was state-owned."
"One small tract that split your land in two and kept you from building a commercial operation."
The reporter was ticking him off, but Anthony had learned to deal with rabble like him. “What's your point?"
"Just an observation."
Observation, his ass. McKenna was trying to rattle him, but he'd gone up against bigger, more powerful men and had come out the winner...one way or another.
Rosalind cleared her throat. “People believe my grandmother and Frank Sullivan were lovers."
"That's the problem with people," Anthony said wryly. “They open their yaps when they don't know what they're talking about." He barked a laugh. “Lily treated Frank like the brother she never had. That wasn't gonna change just because she decided to divorce her old man."
"And you know this...how?" McKenna asked.
Anthony envisioned himself in his conservatory, surrounded by flamingo plants, Italian bellflower and weeping figs in an attempt to neutralize the negative effect the reporter was having on him.
"Galena's a small town," he said. “Lily and me weren't strangers." He narrowed his gaze. “What was it you came to see me about again?"
The reporter's nostrils flared, like he was gearing himself up for something.
"Mr. Cavillo," Rosalind cut in nervously,” do you know of any reason my grandmother had to be upset with Frank? Something she was trying to talk him out of for some time, actually...probably the same something they argued about publicly over dinner the night he died."
"If Lily had a problem with Frank, she didn't confide in me. We weren't lovers, either."
"So you don't have a clue as to what the argument was about?" the reporter reiterated.
"You oughta get a hearing aid. I already said not."
"I talked to the widow," the woman went on in a rush. “She believes they were arguing over her. That Lily wanted Frank to leave Diane for her, but that Frank wouldn't do it because a divorce would hurt his career."
"Yeah, I heard that theory before. It holds about as much water as Lily killing Frank. More likely his career would've been ruined if anyone had investigated why a couple of kids quit their volunteer work for him."
"Kids?" she echoed.
"Teenagers." He couldn't hide his feelings of disgust on this one. “Underage girls. “Schoolmates of his daughter.
Their expressions stunned, she and the reporter stared at each other. Obviously, they hadn't had a clue. Not really surprising. A small town could be a hotbed of gossip...but it could also close ranks to outsiders faster than a speeding bullet.
McKenna asked, “Did these girls or their parents make official complaints against Sullivan?"
"Now, what do you think?" He hadn't figured the big city honcho for being naive. “Back then, you had no such thing as sexual harassment laws. A girl had a pass made at her – or worse – she hushed it up or it would be her reputation. Besides, money smooths out a lot of kinks."
"These girls," Rosalind said, her voice trembling, “do you know their names?"
"One of 'em I can't recall. But the other I couldn't forget. Barbara Pohl was the daughter of a real nice woman who worked for me."
A woman he'd had more than a passing acquaintance with. He loved his wife in his own way, but she'd never been what Anthony would consider exciting.
"Do you know what happened to the daughter?" the other man asked.
"Last I heard, Barbara was running a Bed and Breakfast in one of the smaller towns east of here. Took good care of her mother, too, until the poor woman died of cancer a few years back." He checked his watch and stood. “I'm afraid our social hour is over. I got business to attend to. “He gave the reporter a pointed look and added, “Business which does not concern you."
"Thanks again for seeing us," Rosalind said as she rose.
"You may be seeing us again."
Anthony glowered. “I don't like threats, McKenna."
"Threats? I was talking about the Fourth of July parade on Tuesday morning." His expression innocent, the reporter asked, “You will be there, won't you?"
Though he knew the other man was backpedaling, he let it slide. “Right in the middle of the parade. Now, if you'll excuse me...”
They finally took the hint. Grabbing his cigar from the ashtray, he shoved it in his mouth and ground down on it. Once the door closed behind them, he made for his desk and the phone where he quickly tapped out a number.
"It's me," he grunted when the other party answered. “You won't believe who just left my office."
"I CAN'T BELIEVE NO ONE MENTIONED those girls before," Skelly said as they left River Bluff behind.
The revelation had thrown him for a loop. That Sullivan had developed a taste for underage girls opened up a whole new bag of worms in their investigation. And new suspects.
"Obviously the situation was hushed up."
"In a small town?"
"Hard to believe, isn't it?" Roz mused as she turned onto Blackjack Road. “Unless...”
"What?"
"People in the know were protecting someone."
"You mean the girls," he said.
"And possibly one of their parents. What if Sullivan did more than just make a pass at them?" Her voice was tight with disgust. “And what if there were others? Who knows how far a parent might have gone to revenge his or her child?"
He could almost hear her add, And who could blame them? An echo of his own thoughts.
Not that either of them would condone vigilantism in place of the justice system. But Cavillo had been right on about there being little recourse in sexual cases of any kind thirty years before. Without current legal protections, the accuser rather than the defendant would have been on trial.
Skelly wondered how they were going to follow up on this one. Unfortunately, Barbara Pohl's mother was dead. Cavillo hadn't said anything about a father, and they didn't even have the name of the second girl.
"Why would people who knew better let an innocent woman go to jail?" he murmured.
"A woman the whole town considered to be white trash."
Skelly knew Cavillo's frank remark had stung Roz. “I'd bet a dime to a dollar that all changed when Lily came back from Hollywood as The Blonde Temptress."
"Don't count on it. Most people have long memories. And opinions that don't change easily."
"Oh, I don't know. You changed your opinion about me."
He expected a humorous response, but Roz didn't react at all. Her mind was elsewhere. He gave her some space and did some thinking himself, especially about that entry in the diary that had stumped them. Lily had written that she was disappointed in Sullivan, that his actions weren't worthy of him. She'd also said that she'd pleaded with him to stop but doubted that he would.
Stop what? Hitting on his volunteers?
Nearing town, he said, “About those girls. I wonder what Rogowski could tell us."
Her expression hopeful, Roz glanced at him. “Working for Sul
livan, he'd have to know what happened."
"And maybe give us the other name."
"If he remembers. And if she and her parents haven't died or moved to God-knows-where. It's worth a try."
When they approached his campaign office, the storefront looked deserted but for a dark-haired young woman who sat with her back to the window. At the sound of the door, she jumped and whirled around, dark eyes wide, mouth trembling.
"Can I help you?"
Skelly glanced at her name badge. “You sure can, Kim. You can tell Mr. Rogowski we're here to see him."
"Mr. Rogowski's not here right now. He's making an appearance in front of The Old Market House along with the rest of the staff."
"We'll find him," Roz said. Once they were outside, she glanced back through the window. “I hope she's okay."
"She's probably upset because everyone went off to have fun without her."
"Or maybe she's scared at being left alone."
"In broad daylight?"
He and Roz walked the few blocks to the Greek Revival building that was now a State Historic Site and a hub for visitors. Accompanied by the same fair-haired man who'd driven Rogowski away from the lodge the evening before – a bodyguard? Skelly wondered, noting the size of the man – the politician stood near the entrance. He was greeting as many tourists as would stop to shake his hand and take a piece of campaign literature from him.
To get to Rogowski, they passed one of his workers stationed on the adjacent street corner, handing out flyers.
"Ah, Rosalind Van Straaten and Skelly McKenna," the politician said with a heartiness Skelly figured could only be fake. “Eddie, you recognize Mr. McKenna, don't you?"
The fair-haired man flexed his muscles as he stepped to his employer's side. “Seen him on TV."
But Eddie was staring at Roz, a fascinated glint in his eyes. And Skelly had to take hold of himself so he wouldn't pop those eyes back in the too-large head.
"My associate, Eddie Turner. He sees to my welfare," Rogowski said as if issuing a friendly warning. “So, you're playing tourist today, are you folks? There's a wonderful Fourth of July exhibit inside, including flags that date back to 1776."
"We didn't come to see any flags," Skelly stated.
The McKenna Legacy Trilogy Page 36