Blind Faith (12 page)

Kelly raised herself on tiptoe and peered over the stream of travelers exiting from the
jetway
until she spotted
Victoria
.

Nick, she knew, was right behind her. Though they had taken separate cabs from the police station to the airport, they had come back to
Philadelphia
on the same plane. Kelly had barely made it, while Nick, who had called ahead, had boarded late. A female flight attendant had greeted him warmly, calling him by name and pointing to his seat before pulling the cabin door shut.

"What is Nick
Mcbride
doing on your flight?"
Victoria
handed Kelly her black London Fog coat.

"Long story.
I'll tell you later."

"What about Jonathan? Did you find him?"

"Let's get out of here first."

Victoria
's features tightened but she said nothing as she followed Kelly toward the garage elevators. Moments later, in the quiet comfort of her black Ford Explorer,
Victoria
turned around in her seat. "It's bad, isn't it? Or you would have reassured me right away." Her eyes took on a haunted look. "Is Jonathan dead?"

"They don't know. His dental records arrived to day but they haven't done any tests yet. To complicate matters, the motel clerk who could have identified Jonathan died this morning as a result of his
burns .
"

"What about the other employees? You said there were maids, and a maintenance man."

"They've all vanished." She repeated what Detective Quinn had told her about illegal immigrants.

"I don't know. I'm getting mixed signals and until I've sorted them all out, I can't even make an educated guess as to what happened." She watched a couple with two young boys, both wearing Mickey Mouse
ears,
make their way toward a station wagon. "One possibility is that he may be hiding," she said softly.

"Hiding from what?"

"I don't know. Maybe he's in some kind of trouble."

"He would call me if he was."

"Not if he was afraid of putting you and Phoebe in danger."

"Danger from what?"
Victoria
searched Kelly's face. "There's something you haven't told me. What is it?"

Kelly forced herself to meet her friend's worried gaze. "This is going to hurt,
Victoria
."

"The only thing that would hurt me unbearably right now is if I found out that my husband was dead. Anything else I can handle."

Kelly studied
Victoria
's lovely face for a moment. For once her eyes were free of panic, her chin set,
her
hands steady on the steering wheel. The last two days had toughened her up, but she couldn't possibly be prepared for what she would hear next. Kelly took a breath and released it. "Jonathan is having an affair."

Victoria
's hands slipped to her lap, and anger rose to her cheeks in a burst of red. "You're crazy!"

"Fuck your proof!"
Victoria
shouted, pounding the steering wheel with her fist. "You don't know what you're talking about. Why are you doing this?"

"I met her," Kelly said gently.

"Oh, God."
Victoria
pressed her head against the headrest and closed her eyes.

"Maybe we should wait until we're home," Kelly suggested.

"No."
Victoria
opened her eyes. "Tell me now. Tell me everything."

As gently as she knew how, Kelly told her about
Magdalena
and the relationship she and Jonathan had been having for almost a year. She left nothing out. She told her about the beachfront condo, the photograph on the mantel, and about Jonathan's frequent trips to
Miami
over the last twelve months. She even brought up her run-in with
Paulie
and his friend, and how Nick had rescued her.

Victoria
listened quietly and when Kelly was finished, all sign of hysteria had vanished. "I don't believe any of it," she said, meeting Kelly's eyes. "Jonathan would never cheat on me. He loves me. Phoebe and I are his entire life."

"That's what I kept telling myself over and over. I was so sure the whole thing was a case of mistaken identity.
Or a scam of some sort."

"And that's exactly what it is. A scam, engineered by that ... tramp."

"Magdalena never came forward with the information,
Victoria
. Quinn tracked her down and went to question her. She had no reason to lie."

"I don't care! I know my husband. He would never get involved with another woman, a stripper
no
less. She's making all this up."

Without a word, Kelly reached inside her purse, pulled out the package and began to unwrap it. As the last layer of bubble wrap was removed,
Victoria
gasped.

"My snuff bottle."

She reached for it, but Kelly held it away. "Don't touch it. We have to preserve the fingerprints."

"At
Magdalena
's condo.
Jonathan gave it to her on Monday. She collects miniature bottles but had no idea this one was so valuable, or that it was missing from your shop."

"Are you saying ..."
Victoria
swallowed as though she had difficulty getting the words past her throat. "That Jonathan stole the bottle from me to give to her?"

"I'm sorry."

Overwhelmed,
Victoria
rested her forehead against the steering wheel and began to sob. The last time Kelly had felt this helpless in front of such raw grief was when her father died and she had been unable to console her mother.

It took a while for the sobs to subside. When they finally did,
Victoria
looked up. "I'm sorry." She wiped her wet cheeks with the palm of her hands. "I didn't mean to break down like this."

"Don't apologize." Kelly
lay
a hand on her friend's arm. "I'll drive if you want."

Victoria
shook her head. "I'm all right now." She turned on the ignition and backed out of the parking space. At the ticket booth, she gave the attendant a ten-dollar bill, took her change and headed toward the
Penrose
Avenue
Bridge
.

"If it's any consolation," Kelly said as
Victoria
drove the SUV with an expert hand, "Detective Quinn put out APBs up and down the
Florida
coast, at all airports, seaports and bus terminals."

"I know."

"A Captain Cross at the Roundhouse has been in constant communication with my aunt. He's even promised to try to keep the story out of the papers."

Victoria
shook her head. "Cecily would have told me if he had. Maybe he doesn't know."

Quinn must have kept the information quiet, assuming Kelly would want to tell Victoria herself. It was a nice gesture and Kelly made a mental note to thank him later.

Inside her bag, her cell phone rang. She answered it, half expecting to hear her mother's voice. Instead, she was greeted by Martha
Grimwald
, Jonathan's secretary.

"Miss.
Robolo
," the woman said excitedly. "I did remember something after all. I don't know how it slipped my mind in the first place. I'm so sorry."

"That's all right, Mrs.
Grimwald
. Why don't you tell me what it is you
remembered.
" As
Victoria
threw her a quick, questioning glance, Kelly gave her the thumbs-up sign.

"Jonathan broke his routine this past Friday, though I can't verify it because he didn't write it down."

"How did he break his routine?"

"He went out for lunch instead of eating at his desk."

Kelly felt a ripple of excitement. At last, a break. "Did he go alone?"

"I don't know, but Mr. Webber was in
Las Vegas
that day so I know he wasn't with him."

"I've already asked," the efficient secretary replied. "Only two board members were in town that day and neither saw Jonathan."

"No, but it had to be somewhere in
Atlantic City
, or close by, because he was back at his desk within the hour."

"Thank you, Mrs.
Grimwald
. You've been a big help."

"What did she want?"
Victoria
asked.

"Jonathan went out to lunch last Friday, but she doesn't know where or with whom." Kelly dropped her phone back in her purse. "It wasn't with
Syd
Webber or any of the board members."

"We may be able to find out the name of that restaurant." The color was slowly returning to
Victoria
's cheeks and her eyes had lost some of their dullness.

"I found an American Express receipt in Jonathan's nightstand drawer the other night when we were looking through his things. I didn't pay attention to it at the time because we were focusing on the
Miami
trip, but I think it was from a restaurant."

Kelly gripped her friend's arm and squeezed it. "
Victoria
, you're a genius!"

"No.
Just a woman desperate to find her husband."

Fourteen.

Yo
, Kelly!"

At the typical
Philadelphia
greeting, Kelly looked up and waved at Vince
Gambone
. The old man and his meat shop on
Ninth Street
had been a part of the Italian neighborhood ever since Kelly could remember. Vince's grandfather had been one of the first Italian immigrants to start a business here, and Kelly's great-grandfather had followed suit by opening a restaurant two blocks down the street.

"Pretty good now that I have a new knee."
He bent his leg a few times to show off his returned flexibility. He laughed. "Maybe I'll even enter the Boston Marathon this year."

Other area merchants were coming out, closing shop, waving at Kelly and shouting from across the street.

Kelly loved it. This was home. This is where she had grown up, attending school at St. Maria
Goretti
and playing street hockey with the boys in front of her parents' restaurant. If she closed her eyes she could almost hear the old Mario
Lanza
records her father used to play every night as he served his customers. Her mother had been more into the Golden Boys of South Philly--Frankie Avalon, Fabian, Jimmy Dan-en and Bobby
Rydell
. Framed photographs of the famous singers were prominently displayed throughout the restaurant, each lovingly signed to Connie.

San
Remo
was brightly lit when Kelly arrived. A few early diners were already there, munching on marinated eggplant and thin slices of mozzarella.

Kelly waved at a couple she knew and made her way to the kitchen, inhaling her mother's fragrant tomato sauce. Quick to respond, her stomach gave an angry growl, reminding her she hadn't eaten a thing since that cinnamon bun at the
Philadelphia
airport early this morning.

"Well, what do you know?" Connie
Robolo
said when Kelly came through the swinging doors. "I do have a daughter after all."

She was a short, round woman with Italian good looks and the same
Eydie
Gorme
hairdo she'd had for thirty years. A white apron splattered with tomato sauce was wrapped around her waist.

"Where were you?" she asked as Kelly kissed her cheek. "I've been trying to reach you all day."

Instead of answering, Kelly tore a piece of bread from a crusty loaf on the counter and dipped it into a simmering pot.

"I even called
Victoria
. She said she didn't know where you were, but she sounded funny." Connie gave Kelly her you-can't-fool-me look.
"Like she was lying to me."

"Ma, I'm thirty-five years old. I don't have to tell you where I am every minute of the day."

"Sure you do. I'm your mother." She watched as Kelly chewed. "How's the sauce?"

Kelly made a circle with her thumb and forefinger.

"You think it needs more basil? Benny says I never put enough basil."

Kelly had no idea. She could never taste the basil anyway. "It's fine the way it is, Ma. I love it."

"You tell Benny." Connie took a bowl of homemade pasta from the refrigerator and set it on the gleaming stainless-steel counter. "
You going
to answer my question or are you going to ignore me all night?"

Kelly thought about lying, maybe inventing an old friend she hadn't seen since college. At the last minute, guilt enveloped her like a bad aura and she couldn't do it.

"I was in
Miami
."