The Oldest Sin, page 27
part #3 of Sophie Greenway Series
“You of all people should understand, Sophie. I had to take the sin back and place it on my head, where it belonged. What did it matter what happened to me?”
“But Hugh was the one who slept with Ginger. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Adelle looked up at the moon. “You were right, Sophie. I didn’t tell the truth yesterday. It wasn’t Isaac’s office I saw Ginger in all those years ago, but Hugh’s.”
Sophie assumed as much. “Okay, so you lied. That’s not the end of the world.”
“I did much more than that.” She sat down on a gravestone closer to Sophie this time. “After I found out about the abortion, I came to Hugh, told him I knew everything. I used that knowledge to insinuate myself into his life. I convinced myself that I wanted to provide him with a sympathetic ear. I never suggested I’d tell on him, but the threat was always there. He knew it. I knew it. After a while he gave in, opened up to me. He was so lonely, so devastated by Ginger’s death. He loved her deeply and would have married her in a second if he’d known about the child. But the sad fact was, no one ever told him.”
“He … didn’t know?” said Sophie. This was news.
“Come on,” said Adelle, her voice resuming its former coldness. “I don’t know why Hugh hasn’t come looking for me yet, but we can’t just sit here.”
“Please … just one more minute,” pleaded Sophie. “My ankle really hurts.”
As Adelle stood she glanced back toward the chapel. “People are starting to leave. Where is he? Get up!” she ordered, yanking Sophie to her feet.
Sophie’s foot hurt even worse now. She felt something snap every time she put any weight on it.
“Move,” said Adelle, shoving her toward a more wooded section.
Sophie limped along valiantly, attempting to keep the conversation going. If she could only reach Adelle, get her to see that her position was hopeless. “Isaac probably thought he was doing Hugh a favor by arranging Ginger’s abortion. He was taking care of a nasty task for a friend. Maybe Ginger thought she was doing what Hugh wanted her to, saving him from a scandal.”
“That’s right,” said Adelle, motioning her between two large headstones. “I have no doubt that, for Ginger, Hugh would have found the courage to defy his father’s wrath. Even though she wasn’t thin and perfect the way Howell insisted a minister’s wife should be, Hugh was in love.”
“But he loved you, too,” said Sophie.
“He never loved me.” As Adelle came to a stop, scanning the moonlit darkness for her husband, Sophie stumbled over a metal flower holder sticking precariously up out of the ground. She fell against a gravestone.
“Has anyone ever told you you’re clumsy?” said Adelle, staring down at her.
Sophie decided the question was rhetorical. Rubbing her head, she said, “My ankle is killing me.”
“Oh, all right. We’re more hidden here. We might as well stay put. For now. If Hugh doesn’t come, we’ll have to wait until the cemetery closes down for the night.”
“And then what?”
“Just… shut up.”
Hoisting herself onto a gravestone, Sophie pulled off her shoe. This time she tossed it away. She took the other shoe off and did the same thing. High heels were a menace in a place like this. “I can’t believe Hugh never loved you, Adelle.”
“Why should he?” She turned her back to the chapel and sat down. “I manipulated him into marrying me. The idea of becoming the wife of Howell Purdis’s son was pretty intoxicating back then. Women don’t have many opportunities for power and status in the church and I’ve always been vain enough to want that. I was sure I could make it work. I lost weight, attended to clothing and appearance the way I never had before. But while both Hugh and I tried hard to keep up appearances, our union was never anything but a sham. That’s been my cross to bear all these years, Sophie. I thought I could make him love me, I thought I could make myself love him. But in the end, I couldn’t. Joshua was the one who finally brought us together. He’s always been our first priority. I couldn’t allow him to get hurt because of our stupidity. Any mother could understand why I did what I did.”
“What you did,” said Sophie, her pulse quickening as she noticed movement in the distance. It looked as if someone was running down the hill to the south of the chapel. Adelle didn’t notice it because her back was turned. “If I didn’t know better, .I’d think you were saying you poisoned Lavinia and Isaac. Not Hugh.”
Looking up pointedly, Adelle said, “I thought that’s what we’ve been talking about. Of course I did it. Hugh doesn’t have the guts.”
Sophie was startled into silence. Up until this moment she hadn’t truly appreciated the danger she was in. She thought she’d be able to talk to Adelle, get her to see reason. But now she knew better. “You know, Adelle, I … won’t tell anyone what I know. I promise, I’ll keep my mouth shut.” It was a desperate stab.
“Really? How wonderful! All my problems are over.”
“No, I mean it. I understand. I have a son, too.”
“You can cut the act.”
“Adelle, killing me isn’t going to help you. For starters —” She thrashed around in her mind for something to say. “What would you do with my body?” It was a gruesome thought.
“I don’t know,” she said, looking down at the gun as if seeing it for the first time. “With Lavinia and Isaac, I had time to plan.”
Sophie saw a figure moving steadily toward them. Holding her breath, she waited as the moon moved out from behind a cloud. Her heart sank as she saw that it was Hugh.
Adelle turned as he approached. “It’s about time.”
“Where did you get that?” said Hugh, stopping dead in his tracks when he saw the gun.
“From the glove compartment of Isaac’s car.”
“Adelle, what are you thinking?” His frightened eyes shot to Sophie.
With a gesture of triumph, Adelle held up the envelope. “Here’s the proof Isaac had on you and Ginger. He wasn’t lying.”
“But… where did you get it?”
“From her. She knows everything.”
Pushing past his wife, he walked up to Sophie, gazed down at her, and said, “You’re sure?” He was still speaking to Adelle.
“Completely,” she answered. “Now listen. This is what you need to do. First, I want you to go back to the chapel, find Bram Baldric, and tell him that Sophie and I needed to talk. Tell him I’ll drop her back home later. Next, I want you to take Howell back to the hotel.”
“Slow down, Adelle.” He nabbed the back of his neck. “This just gets worse by the minute. Everything you do just digs us in deeper.”
“Me? Look who’s talking!”
“I never wanted you to poison anyone!”
“So? What was I supposed to do? Let Isaac walk all over us?” ‘ “Yes,” he barked. “Don’t you think that’s preferable?”
As they continued to rail at each other Sophie saw the chance she’d been waiting for. Hugh was mere inches away. He and Adelle were both so caught up in their argument, they weren’t paying any attention to her. The problem was, running might be impossible. On the other hand, she didn’t have a choice. Steeling herself against the pain, she waited for the right moment.
It came as Hugh turned his back on her to confront his wife about the gun one more time. Sophie shot off the gravestone and pushed him as hard as she could. As he fell forward he knocked Adelle down, too. Both of them hit the ground with a thud.
In a dash, Sophie was up, lumbering clumsily across the grass as fast as her damaged foot would take her. Her ankle was already swollen to the size of a grapefruit, but she couldn’t give in to the pain.
Just as another cloud covered the moon she lunged behind a clump of trees.
“I don’t see her!” shrieked Adelle. She was disoriented from the fall.
Sophie peeked out from behind one of the larger trunks and saw the two of them scrambling to their feet. Fortunately, at their age, it was an awkward process.
“She went that way,” said Hugh, pointing.
It was the wrong direction.
“I don’t think so,” said Adelle, weaving unsteadily toward the trees.
“What does it matter? Give me the gun.” His voice had grown hoarse.
“Why?”
“Just give it to me.”
“Not until I know what you’re going to do with it.”
“It’s over, Adelle. It stops right here.”
“Are you crazy?”
“I’d be crazy to let this go on any longer. I’m sick to death of people cleaning up after my disasters. Nobody ever consults me first, they just act on my behalf.”
“That’s because you’re weak, Hugh.”
“That’s not true!”
“Of course it is. Who was the only one who ever disciplined Joshua? You were never there for the hard parts, only the easy, touchy-feely parts. You’ve never had the courage to do what’s necessary. Not in your career, and not in your personal life. If I didn’t do it for you, it didn’t get done!”
Sophie could see him grimace, as if he’d been slapped across the face. It took him a moment to regroup. “Maybe that was true in the past. But it’s not true now.”
“Wonderful,” shouted Adelle. flinging her hands in the air. “And for your very first act of courage you’re going to ruin everything I’ve tried to do to save the church and our son.”
“Be reasonable,” he demanded.
Sophie backed up and began running again. As she dove behind a far bush she felt an arm grip her around the stomach and then a heavy hand clamp over her mouth. Her first instinct was to scream.
“Cool it, Soph,” came a familiar whisper. “It’s me.”
She looked up into Bram’s beautiful green eyes, knowing that if she lived to be a hundred, she’d never be happier to see him than she was at this moment. She held on to him for dear life.
Bram lifted a finger to his lips.
“You haven’t saved anyone,” bellowed Hugh, calling to Adelle from one of the gravestones. He sat dejectedly on the edge.
“Just shut up and help me,” she pleaded, easing around a tree, the gun held rigidly in front of her.
Through the brush, Sophie could tell that she was headed away from them. She settled against Bram’s stomach, feeling his strong arms hold her tight.
“You’re just like Isaac,” shouted Hugh. He sounded exhausted now. At the end of his rope. “You’ve done nothing but make matters worse. And then, just like him, you have the gall to want me to thank you for it!”
“Help me find her,” she demanded, parting the bushes with her free hand.
“Why? So you can poison someone else? Do you travel everywhere these days with oleander flower?”
“You’re pathetic, do you know that?” She rushed toward him, her face burning with anger. “You had a chance to say all this to me back at the hotel. Why didn’t you?”
“Maybe you’re right. Maybe I am a coward. But where’s it going to stop, Adelle? Are you going to poison the whole world?”
Sophie lifted her head at the sound of a police siren. It was coming this way. “Did you call the police?” she whispered, turning around to look at her husband.
“Of course I did,” he whispered back. “I believe in backup.”
“How —”
“Morton saw Adelle hiding in the shrubs after the two of you were done talking. He heard what she said, saw her pull the gun. That’s when he came in to find me.”
“Thank God,” said Sophie.
Bram nuzzled the side of her face. “Thank Morton.”
“A siren?” said Adelle, whirling around just in time to see two squad cars roar down Dupont Avenue. “They’re coming this way!” she called, her voice full of panic. “What are we going to do?”
“Come here,” said Hugh, his voice oddly calm.
“Why?”
“Just come here.” He held out his hand.
Adelle stared at him. Hesitating, she moved closer. “What are we going to do?”
In one quick movement, he grasped her upper arms,
looked her square in the eye, and said, “We’re going to call it a day, Adelle.”
“No!” She hit his chest, struggling to get away.
He held on. “What do you suggest we do ? There’s nowhere to go. No place to hide. This is it, Adelle. It’s over.”
“But —”
“But what?” He crushed her against him, holding her tight until she stopped struggling and dropped the gun. It didn’t take long.
“I’m sorry,” she cried, burying her head in her hands. “I didn’t know what else to do.”
“I know,” he said, stroking her hair.
They held each other for nearly a minute. Then, still holding hands, they sank to their knees as the squad cars roared over the rise and sped straight for them.
Sophie couldn’t hear their words now, but she could see their faces twisted with pain. They looked like two sad statues, heads bowed, their hands pressed together in a gesture of supplication. Were they seeking their God’s forgiveness, or merely waiting for the inevitable? She would probably never know. Yet the irony was inescapable. The destructive doctrines of a destructive church had, in the end, destroyed the lives of two of its truest believers. For a moment Sophie almost felt sorry for them.
Then, as she knew it would, the moment passed.
38
“Are we comfy?” asked Bram.
“Reasonably,” said Sophie.
“Want me to duff your foot pillow again?”
“No, but a little more martoonie would be nice.” She held up her martini glass, feeling a mellow buzz settie into her aching muscles. Her ordeal in the graveyard two nights ago had left her bruised and sore.
Bram leaned around behind him and grabbed the pitcher.
“Are there any more olives?” Sophie held the glass on her stomach as he poured.
“We’ve cleaned out your parents’ stash.”
“They aren’t martoonie drinkers.”
“No, but they had all the liquid fixings.”
Sophie and Bram were lying in the middle of the hardwood floor in their empty apartment at the Maxfield, pillows tucked under their heads, another pillow propped carefully under Sophie’s injured ankle. It was Saturday evening. Outside, the light was fading slowly over downtown St. Paul.
After a busy day spent talking to housing inspectors and real-estate agents, Sophie and Bram made a spur-of-the-moment decision to spend the night at the Maxfield, sleeping in Sophie’s parents’ apartment. The evening’s agenda, however, wouldn’t have been complete without a visit to their future apartment.
“Where’s Ethel?” asked Sophie.
“I think she’s in the kitchen sniffing the mop boards.”
“You know, I realize I’m genuinely tired when Ethel seems to have more energy than I do.” She lifted her head and took a sip.
“This is nice, isn’t it?” said Bram, clasping his hands behind his head. “Maybe we should forget the furniture. Live … simply.”
“You mean uncomfortably.”
“I thought you said you were comfortable.”
“I said I was reasonably comfortable. I’d be more comfortable on a couch or a bed.”
“But… furniture would destroy the minimalist aesthetic I’m trying to achieve in my life right now.”
“Right. You should write the book. ‘The Pack-Rat Minimalist.’ You could sell it at garage sales. Junk stores. Flea markets.”
“Now you’re making fun of me.”
“No, dear,” she said, patting his hand. “I’m just drinking my martoonie and enjoying a quiet evening at home with my husband.”
“But it’s not our home yet. And I’m not entirely kidding. I like these high ceilings, the bare walls — the feeling of space. I look out the living-room windows and see downtown St. Paul stretching out before me — it makes me feel like I’m in a castle looking down on my kingdom.”
“Well, first, dear, I understand there are cures for megalomania these days, so don’t panic. We’ll get you some help. And second, this may be your castle, but without furniture, you’ll be living in it by yourself.”
He turned over on his side, resting his head on his hand. “I’d never want to live without you, Sophie.”
The sudden fierceness with which he said the words startled her. “Gee, I didn’t realize I had such power. As I think about it, if you don’t do all the laundry — and the dishes — from now on, I’m outta here.”
He grinned, touching her face with the tips of his fingers. “With all the money we’ll be saving on rent, we’ll get a maid. Don’t all castles have maids?”
“You think you’ve got an answer for everything, huh?”
“Not everything,” he said, lowering his eyes. “You know, I ran around that graveyard for ten frantic minutes the other night before I spotted you.”
“Thank God Adelle didn’t see you.”
“Oh, I never gave it a thought. A radio personality learns early in his career to live by stealth. Move in quick, and get out before the audience can find shotguns and form a posse.”
She laughed, reaching up and smoothing the hair away from his forehead. “I knew you’d come, you know.”
“I know.” He leaned down and kissed her cheeks and her eyes, and then her lips. “I’m just glad it’s over. Adelle Purdis will be put away for the rest of her natural life, and that’s okay by me.” Rolling over on his back again, he continued, “Come to think of it, you never did explain the precise significance of Ginger’s words the night she died. You just gave me the biblical-illiterate overview.”
“Are you sure you’re interested?”
Ethel lumbered out of the kitchen, her green tennis ball clamped between her teeth. Pausing next to one of the ornate metal floor vents, she dropped the ball on top of it and then watched to see what would happen. When it didn’t roll, she nudged it with her nose. These days Ethel lived for scientific investigation.
“I’m all ears,” said Bram, pouring himself another drink.
Sophie fortified herself with a sip of her own and then began, “In Genesis, we find the story of Abraham.”
