Rohn Federbush - Sally Bianco 02 - The Appropriate Way by Rohn Federbush

…” John drew Sally closer to him on the couch. “Has brought back a lot of vivid memories for you.”
    “I feel overwhelmed. I’m sure Sheriff Woods suffered from being in such close contact with the Montgomerys.”
    “I think Tim will be free of Matilda, at least. She doesn’t seem like a bad person.”
    “I’m sure she’s not. It’s hard to let go of affection for someone, even when we know it is wrong.”
    “Have you let go of Sheriff Woods?” John seemed compelled to ask.
    Sally put her arms around his neck. “I’d like to bury the fifty-year-old memories somewhere.”
    “Memories are not infidelities.”
    Sally wasn’t sure. First loves seemed to hang on. She did not want anything to do emotionally with Sheriff Woods, but her energy seemed sapped by the constant thoughts of herself as a teenager. Probably trying to recapture your youth, she chastised herself. Attempting to return to the subject of redecorating, she asked, “Would Betty like to store this artwork for you, or buy them?”
    “I can’t see the room without them.”
    “Would they find a home in one of the bedrooms, after I redecorate it for your study?”
    “Why don’t we wait until we finish this arson case, before you start on the house?”
    “Good idea. I can restrain myself until we figure out why Enid Krimm died in the Masters’ home.”
    John stood up and swung his arms around, addressing the art hanging on the walls of his comfortable home. “You’re safe for now, guys.”
    The front room might never seem anything but a bachelor’s pad to Sally. Her home in Ann Arbor kept calling. Her books were still on the shelves in every room. The kitchen cupboards stood at the ready for any future attempt at cooking. At least, she complied with John’s dictate about cleaning out the refrigerator and leaving a forwarding address. Nevertheless without her cache of books, she suspected she was only vacationing, not living, in St. Charles.
    ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
    First Friday in January
    John and James were working at the Hotel Baker, going over the books, ordering supplies, and doing whatever hotel owners do, when Sally planned to visit the police station in Geneva. For the five years she lived in St. Charles, neither Sally nor her family members provoked any circumstances requiring law enforcement officials.
    Daddy said anyone carrying a gun was crazy. He was never a hunter and the slaughter of farm animals wasn’t carried out on the farms he managed, except for the chickens Mother axed. He included police officers in the people he considered dangerous because they carried guns, cautioning her to always follow their orders. She wished she questioned him further. Had he ever come up against the law? With his temper, he must have set limits for himself. Arguing with government officials was out of bounds.
    Sally wrinkled her nose at her reflection in the mirror above the telephone table in John’s front hall as she dialed Sheriff Woods. Curiosity demanded she proceed. “How is the extradition order coming?”
    “Well,” Sheriff Woods drawled, “I talked to Geraldine and convinced her to come home. She should be at the Montgomerys later tonight.” Sally heard him sigh. “I’m getting depressed already.”
    “Why don’t you let John and me question her? She might respond more readily to an arson detective than a police officer.”
    “Do I need to speak to John?”
    “We’ll be glad to help,” Sally replied. “But do you mind asking Tim to join us.”
    “Won’t he put a crimp in Geraldine’s ruffles?”
    “Oh, I hope so.”
    ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
    Montgomery Home in Wayne
    Tim picked up Sally at seven o’clock in the evening for their appointment at the Montgomerys. John still pleaded urgent hotel business. At Carolyn Montgomery’s, her frosty welcome prompted Sally to keep her coat on.
    Tim retained his fur-collared overcoat as well. “We shouldn’t take very much time,” he said as if to explain his