Driven to Ink

“It’s pretty clear she lost a baby because of the abuse,” I said. “But I’m not sure what Dan Franklin would have to do with that.”

“He works with her,” Bitsy piped up. “Maybe he’s got the hots for her. Maybe he killed her husband.”

Tim and I exchanged a look.

“Has Flanigan actually looked for Franklin?” I asked him, thinking that if Flanigan focused on Franklin, it was likely he’d find out about the ten grand and I’d be off the hook.

“I have no idea. You’re my assignment,” he said with a shrug.

I thought about what Bitsy said, about Franklin possibly killing Rosalie’s husband. Maybe Franklin was one of those guys who decided to go after men who abused women. I voiced my thoughts.

Tim sighed. “That’s possible, I suppose.”

It was the only idea I had at the moment. But what about Ray Lucci? There was that rat.

The phone rang, interrupting us.

Bitsy picked it up. “The Painted Lady,” she said.

After a few seconds, she looked up at me and handed me the receiver. “Jeff Coleman.”

I took the phone. “Hi, Jeff.” I hadn’t talked to him since the previous day, when he came to take Sylvia and Bernie to Rosalie at the hospital. “How’s Rosalie holding up?”

“Listen, Kavanaugh, you and I both know that Rosalie is better off without that scumbag. I don’t even care if the cops never find the guy who did this.”

The words hung between us for a second before he spoke again.

“But I think I know who did it.”

Chapter 43

“Who do you think killed Lou?”I asked. “Dan Franklin.”

Everything seemed to come back to him.

“Why him?” I had my own suspicions, but I wanted to know his.

“That car’s gone.”

“What car?”

“That Ford Taurus we saw in his driveway.”

I gave a quick glance at Tim, who was watching me intently. He raised his eyebrows, wordlessly asking me what was going on, but I shook him off.

“So that could mean anything,” I said.

“Maybe. Except that Detective Flanigan said they think it was a blue car that hit Lou.”

“They think? Don’t they know the color?” In books and on TV, the cops always know the color of the cars in hit-and-runs. They can even track down the kind of paint to determine what make of car it was. I had no reason to think they couldn’t do that in real life, too.

“He didn’t want to say for sure. Maybe they’ve still got tests to do or something. But Franklin’s car is blue.”

So was Will Parker’s, but I wasn’t sure what Parker’s motive would be. Dan Franklin seemed a better suspect at the moment.

“So what are you up to, Kavanaugh?”

It was the way he said it that made me wonder what was up with him.

“I’m working.”

“What did your brother say about the gun?”

“Oh, that. Well, it sort of got all messed up. I was on my way over to see Rosalie-”

“She said you never showed.”

“No, I didn’t. I was talking on my cell phone, and a cop pulled me over.”

He chuckled. “You can’t tell me that they gave you a ticket.”

“Worse than that.” I gave Tim another sidelong glance. “He found the gun in the box addressed to Ray Lucci and took me down to see Tim and Flanigan.” I didn’t want to tell him about Tim’s new assignment as my babysitter.

“So what did they say about it? Did they know about this illegal-gun stuff?”

Now that was a question I hadn’t asked. “I’m not sure,” I said. “They sent me back to work.” I paused. “Hey, how do you know Franklin’s car is gone?”

“I happened to take a ride over there. The mail in the box is gone, too, along with the newspapers on the stoop. Looks like the man came home after all.”

“So he’s not dead.”

Tim’s eyebrows were just about popping off the top of his head, and Bitsy was hanging on my every word.

“Probably not.”

It was killing me that I couldn’t hop in my car and drive over to see for myself. Maybe after Tim and I got home and after he went to sleep, I could take a little midnight stroll over to Franklin’s house.

Maybe I was too nosy, as Tim said. Because even to me that sounded a little crazy.

“Listen, Kavanaugh, gotta run. I’ll give you a call tomorrow.” And then he was gone.

I hung up the phone, putting up my hand before Tim could speak.

“Flanigan says they think it was a blue car that hit Lou Marino.”

Tim pondered that a second, but as he opened his mouth, Bitsy said, “Like that blue car that came after us at the university?”

And like that blue car that almost hit me and Tim in the parking garage. Was it the same car? Who knew? Franklin and Will Parker both had blue cars.

I shrugged.

“Why does he think it’s Franklin?” Tim finally got to ask a question.

“He says Franklin drives a blue Taurus. It was in his driveway, and now it’s not.” Oops. Might have been a little more information than I wanted to give.

Tim caught on. “How does he know it was in his driveway and now it’s not?”

I sighed. “Okay, Jeff and I went over to Dan Franklin’s house. We saw the car in the driveway. There was also a pile of mail in his box and newspapers on the stoop, and Jeff says those are gone now, too. So Franklin came home after being gone for what looks like a couple of days.”

Tim’s face was so red I thought he was going to have a coronary.

“You have to stop this, Brett.”

Bitsy took that as her cue to skedaddle off to the staff room. She saw what was coming.

I was tired of it, though. “Okay, fine, I’ve been doing a little snooping. But it’s only to help.”

“Do I need to lock you up in the house until all this is resolved?”

Now that was going a little too far, and even he knew it. Tim threw up his hands, said, “I give up,” and went to join Bitsy back in the staff room.

I sat at the front desk, watching the people milling around outside. Suddenly I needed to feel not so much like a prisoner anymore. I also needed chocolate. Godiva was across the canal.

“Anyone want chocolate?” I asked loudly.

Joel’s head stuck out from his room. “I do,” he said gleefully.

“Can you have that on your diet?” I asked sternly.

He took a deep breath and said, “I don’t really care.”

Joel was back.

I grinned. Call me an enabler.

Tim was standing in the staff room doorway.

“I’m going across to Godiva,” I said, getting up and going around to the front door. “Want anything?”

He must have been as tired of me as I was of him because he shook his head and disappeared again. I could