Liquid Lies Part 21

Robert "Ace" McNally. Francesca's boyfriend. The same boyfriend that Detective Wurkowski mentioned Francesca wrote about in her journal. The same boyfriend she told her aunt Vivian that she had fought with. Was he also the person she had to meet with the night I saw her at H&K's? And did Robert McNally kill her? Everything was getting more complicated. But, let's say Robert McNally killed Francesca, why would he also kill Mark? And, if it was him, would he kill again?

Chapter Twenty-Eight.

Francesca's memorial was in four hours. And now I needed to write a eulogy and find the killer. Time was running out.

The underlying grief I felt for both Francesca and Mark was so tremendous that it filled me with a profound heaviness throughout my entire body. It could have crushed me. Instead of letting my sorrow take over I replaced it with absolute determination. No matter what, I would find their killer. If my hunches were right, the killer was McNally. Although Jacob was not completely off of my suspect list, yet.

What I needed was help. Although I wanted to go it alone, maybe it was not the best way to proceed. I needed help, another set of eyes and ears on the case. Who could I trust? Ken was out of the picture.

Estelle and Hazel had their hands full as it was with SOS. Lucas was swamped at the newspaper, plus it might not be good to have someone from the newspaper involved before he needed to be. Samuel had too much going on taking over Mark's job on the mail boat and with the funeral home.

As much as I felt that I needed to stay away from Jacob, maybe he was someone who could a.s.sist me. That is, if he could be cleared of murder. On his deathbed, Mark said 'not Jacob,' but on the other hand, Jacob did fall for my bait at the pavilion. Only one way to find out.

I scrolled through the list of received calls in my cell. I found Jacob's and hit the call b.u.t.ton. He picked up on the first ring. I no idea of what to lead with so I just said, "Hey."

"Well hi, you've been impossible to get a hold of," Jacob said.

"Yeah, I've had my phone off a lot today. Listen, can I ask you a question?" I asked.

"Sure, what's up," he said.

"Where were you last night between the hours of eight and eleven?" I asked.

"Are you a parole officer?" he said.

"Jeez, do you have one?" I was stunned.

"No," he chuckled. "You're so easy to rattle."

"So where did you say you were last night?" I asked.

"I feel like you're already my girlfriend, checking up on me. If you really need to know, a few guys and I were having dinner at H&K's," he said.

"You were? Why?"

"We were hungry," he said.

"No. I didn't mean why. Of course you go to a restaurant to eat. This sounds so nosy, but I promise in time I'll let you know. How long were you there?" I asked.

"Listen I don't mind. I have nothing to hide. I think we met up at eight thirty or so. We're working on forming our own construction company. Trying to iron out a business plan over dinner and drinks," he said.

"When did you leave?" I asked.

"You know I was home at one a.m., remember you came over?"

"Um yes," I got distracted thinking about our romp. Then I continued, "How long were you with your business partners?"

"I guess until eleven or so. Actually eleven thirty. That's right, because the band announced that anyone who wanted a request to get them in because they were wrapping up at midnight," he said. "They were still playing when we left."

"Okay," I said. I knew I had to go and check out his alibi.

"Have you switched jobs?" he asked.

"No. Why do you ask?" I asked.

"I'm feeling a little interrogated, and was wondering if you were in law enforcement now."

"Sorry. It's very complicated, with Francesca and Mark's death, and Estelle's home. I'm trying my best to help everyone out. I'm sort of forming my own amateur detective agency. Actually it's a one woman show right now," I said.

"Let me know if I can join your posse," Jacob said. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I will be. Thanks for your help. I really do promise this will all make sense once I check on a few things," I said before we clicked off.

As soon as I hung up with Jacob I called H&K's to substantiate Jacobs's story. The regular night waitress remembered seeing him and a few guys for the better part of the evening.

Therefore, I could pretty safely a.s.sume he did not kill Mark. I guess he could be trusted.

I called Jacob to let him know he could join my posse of one. He agreed to meet with me at Estelle's house in a half-hour.

When I got back home and before Jacob showed up, I looked through the list of SOS members. Hazel was president, Estelle was vice president. Mark was treasurer, the next door neighbor was listed as secretary. Francesca had signed the pet.i.tion. It seemed that SOS connected Mark and Francesca. Did that a.s.sociation ultimately cause their deaths?

One scenario was that Robert McNally and Francesca were lovers. Something happened. Then she got angry over it and decided to get back at him. She joined SOS. McNally, reacted by killing her. And my next hunch was a bit fuzzy. Then McNally decided to kill Mark too because he was also involved in SOS. Maybe Francesca and Mark knew something that could potentially damage McNally.

What should I do next?

The door bell rang.

I opened the door and my eyes fell upon Jacob, who wore blue jeans, a white t-shirt and sandals. I said, "Thanks for coming."

"No problem." Jacob stepped inside.

We walked back to the kitchen. I poured two ice teas and set them next to Estelle's cookies. She always had a tray of cookies set out. Before I could stop him, he reached for a cookie and then took a bite. He grimaced then took a huge gulp of tea.

I pulled the tray away. "I'm so very sorry. They're just for show. Here, have one of these. It's better for you," I handed him a banana from a nearby fruit bowl.

"No thanks." His mouth puckered, and then he grimaced. "No offense, but those cookies are horrible."

"Estelle makes them for people to eat, but they make better decorations," I said. "You've got to love someone with her determination. Like right now she is in the Save Our Streets group. You've heard about the eminent domain and the hospital? Well there is just so much happening. And then the deaths of Francesca and Mark, and I just don't know how to explain myself and how I've been acting."

I looked out the kitchen window.

"CiCi, are you going to tell me what's going on? I like you and I'm willing to help you. What I don't get is, after we make love you run away. It's as though you want me but are repelled by me too. I just can't figure out what's going on. I'm a patient guy and all, but it's time for you to open up."

"Sorry. But I do need your help," I said.

"Shoot," he said.

I spent the next fifteen minutes telling him what was going on, leaving out the blackmailer and the trucker incident. It had nothing to do with the murders. It had all to do with Robert McNally.

"So how are you going to confirm McNally killed them? Why don't you just get the police involved? Let them take over," he said.

"I thought about that, but really. We're talking about accusing the CEO of the largest employer in Round Lake of killing the mayor's daughter and the mail boat captain. I'm sure I'd need solid proof before anyone would listen," I said. "Or I could be held liable for slander, right?"

"So what do you have in mind?" he asked.

"You worked for Francesca. Do you remember anything that could be of help?"

"I already told you about the married boyfriend. Who, if you're right, is McNally. Were you aware that he and the mayor are friends?" Jacob said.

"No, not beyond the fact that the mayor's construction company was hired to work on the hospital's expansion. Did their friendship go beyond a business relationship?" I asked.

"Francesca had mentioned they were golf partners as well as business partners. Also there was one particular time I was in the office when I overheard McNally in a heated discussion behind closed doors. However, when they walked out they were shaking hands." He added, "After McNally and the mayor left, Francesca said they were changing some sub-contractors."

"It didn't seem to me that McNally was mad at the mayor, but rather the other way around. To me, the only thing that would make sense is if somehow the mayor found out that his buddy McNally had Francesca as his mistress," I said.

"Yeah that would make me mad too. I'd be p.i.s.sed if a friend of mine was sleeping with my daughter," he said.

"You have a kid?" I asked.

"I'm just speaking hypothetically," he added. "For me, I think that McNally had the motive. His job. Could you imagine the problems he would have at the hospital if he spent all their money on the expansion and it never happened?"

"Okay then. I agree with you. But why murder Francesca?" I asked.

"Why does anyone kill anyone? Jealousy, s.e.x, money, revenge," he said "Should I be worried that you're so knowledgeable about this subject?" I asked.

"Absolutely," he smiled.

"Here's what I think. I'm going on the premise that McNally is the killer. Now I have to find his motive," I said.

"Guilty until proven innocent. Not exactly a citizen's rights." He laughed.

"Okay, so I'm not conventional," I said. Then I looked at the clock above our stove, it was three thirty. "Are you going to the memorial?"

"The whole city is," he said.

"Let's do some clandestine sleuthing while we're there, see what we can find out about McNally and Francesca. Anything at all," I said as I got up.

Jacob's cell rang as he stood. "I'll see you tonight." He kissed me before he left and took the call.

I grabbed some paper and wrote out Francesca's eulogy. It took two hours, I read it back, and it wasn't half bad.

Chapter Twenty-Nine.

At six in the evening, the Cathedral was packed for Francesca's memorial service. The place was overflowing with bouquets of fragrant flowers. All the white votive candles were lit and a sea of mourners squeezed shoulder to shoulder into the pews.

Mayor Pike directed me to the front pew with his sister and several of his relatives. The choir sang hymns. Father O'Doul said prayers and blessings and gave a full ma.s.s. Then I had to present the eulogy.

Standing on the altar, at the podium, I had a view of all the faces. I scanned to the left and saw Robert McNally with his arm around his redhead wife's shoulder. She was his age, mid fifties, attractive with the tell tale tight face of plastic surgery.

In the middle sat Estelle and Hazel, surrounded by dozens wearing white round b.u.t.tons with SOS in red lettering. In front of them sat Doug, Francesca's neighbor, and what I guessed was his family. He waved at me as we made eye contact. I waved back.

On the right was Ken with several of his peers from the hospital. I was glad he could take time off work to pay his respects to the mayor's daughter, and my best friend. He nodded his head when I saw him. Lucas was there with many of our friends. I saw priests and nuns from Saint Francis School. I also noticed several of our fellow cla.s.smates. Many politicians were in attendance, as well as the news media.

Standing in the far right aisle, near the back door, was Jacob. He was one of dozens who had to stand because pews were at capacity. Apparently everyone in Round Lake was at the service.

Placing my handwritten notes on the podium, I held onto the outer edges to steady myself. I adjusted the microphone to mouth level. It made a squeak as I moved it. No matter how nervous and grief stricken, I was determined to give a proper eulogy.

Taking a deep breath, I began, "Francesca was like a ray of sunshine, her smile warming everyone she met. Her friends were plentiful, and the love she gave and received bountiful. Her pa.s.sion for life, her zest for adventure and her stunning beauty were unsurpa.s.sed. She also had a great love of France, having spent the last four years there with her Aunt Vivian. In honor of her favorite French poet Victor Hugo, I will read "More Strong than Time."

Since I have set my lips to your full cup, my sweet, Since I my pallid face between your hands have laid, Since I have known your soul, and all the bloom of it, And all the perfume rare, now buried in the shade; Since it was given to me to hear on happy while, The words wherein your heart spoke all its mysteries, Since I have seen you weep, and since I have seen you smile, Your lips upon my lips, and your eyes upon my eyes; Since I have known above my forehead glance and gleam, A ray, a single ray, of your star, veiled always, Since I have felt the fall, upon my lifetime's stream, Of one rose petal plucked from the roses of your days; I now am bold to say to the swift changing hours, Pa.s.s, pa.s.s upon your way, for I grow never old, Fleet to the dark abysm with all your fading flowers, One rose that none may pluck, within my heart I hold.

Your flying wings may smite, but they can never spill The cup fulfilled of love, from which my lips are wet; My heart has far more fire than you can frost to chill, My soul more love than you can make my soul forget.

"Francesca and I met in Kindergarten. Her long hair was enchanting to me. She allowed me to put her silky golden locks in braids. Everything about Francesca was magical to me. She was the sister I never had. The sister I looked up to and would follow to the end of earth."

"During grade school our desks b.u.t.ted up to each other. We pa.s.sed notes under the desks and quite a few times the nuns intercepted them."

The audience chuckled.

I continued, "Yet our punishments were no greater than washing desk tops, or raking leaves at the convent. Francesca had the knack to turn anything into an adventure, as we chatted and laughed through the ch.o.r.es. From kindergarten through twelfth grade, the nuns seemed to take a special notice of Francesca. Not only because they looked out for her after her mother pa.s.sed, but also because I believe she was like a firefly to them. Flitting and floating and lighting up wherever she went. You couldn't help but notice her," I paused. Many in the attendance were nodding their head in agreement.

"She was, as we all know, captivating in every sense of the word. Many of you remember us together, and if I close my eyes I can still see it. All the summers we rode our bikes around Round Lake from the time the sun rose, until the golden glow of sunset." I continued for the next several minutes, holding back my tears as the words flowed out.

When I finished, the mourners had sniffles and smiles.

Except for Robert McNally, who constantly looked at his cell phone.

Why wasn't he grieving for his lover?

Chapter Thirty.