The Oldest Sin (35 page)

“That’s quite an interpretation. And I don’t disagree,” said Sophie, feeling a gust of wind knock her slightly off balance. “But what’s it got to do with jumping off a roof?”

“Just that I overstepped my bounds … again.”

“Meaning?”

Wiping a hand across her mouth, she said, “You want to lend me a hundred thousand dollars?”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ll take that response as a no.”

“Cindy, you’re going to have to explain —”

Cutting her off, Cindy continued, “Do you remember the fight Ginger and I had in college?”

“Sure. Vividly.”

“Do you remember what it was about? I wanted to push the boundaries. Do something no woman had ever done before.”

“You were always … ambitious,” said Sophie, choosing her words carefully. She didn’t know where Cindy was headed and didn’t want to upset her any more than she already was.

“Ambitious. Good word. You always were a diplomat, Sophie. I remember that now.” Resting a hand against the vent, she looked off in the distance. “I’ve worked most of my adult life as a secretary. Since I graduated from Purdis Bible College, I had — as one of God’s elite — a lot of biblical expertise, but I didn’t know how to make a living. I see that as a rather glaring omission in their program, don’t you? Anyway, for one reason or another, I never married. Never had any kids. No life, really, when you think of it. Just my nine-to-five jobs. Then, five years ago, when my dad got sick and needed someone to step in for him at his trucking company for a few months, he called and asked if I was interested. I don’t know why he called. Maybe he figured he could control me better than the guys he had working for him. Whatever the case, I got the nod. While I was there something happened that neither of us ever anticipated. I realized I was good at the job. As his cancer got worse I took over more and more of his responsibilities. He died last year. When it came time to read the will, I discovered to my immense surprise that the old man had left me the business.”

“You told us about it at the reunion.”

“But what I didn’t tell you was that the longer I was there, the more I realized how deep the financial troubles were. Mainly, we needed some new rigs. The ones we had were breaking down all the time. That lost us both time and money. So, the year I was appointed treasurer of the Daughters of Sisyphus Society, I decided to do a little creative accounting.”

“You mean —”

“I took money from the organization. I figured the coffers were full. Nobody would miss it and I’d be able to put it back before anyone got wise. I had confidence in my ability to make Shipman Trucking the best in the Southwest. That’s our slogan.”

Sophie felt a
but
coming on.

“But,” said Cindy, “it didn’t happen the way I planned. Just like what happened at college, my … ambition, as you call it, got me nowhere. The economy slowed. We took a couple of bad financial hits because of it. Then some of the men started to quit on me. They didn’t like working for a woman. One thing led to another until last month, I had to file for Chapter Eleven.”

“Bankruptcy?”

“Afraid so. I came to this conference hoping I could talk to Lavinia about it. Get her to see why I’d done what I’d done. I knew I could make her understand. She’s taken a lot of risks in her own life. But … it just seemed like every time I tried to talk to her, she was either too busy, or I’d get cold feet. I even went to her room the night she died.”

“You did?” said Sophie. This was the first she’d heard of it. “Do you remember what time?”

She shrugged, leaning her shoulder against the vent. “Eleven-thirty, maybe. I got back to the hotel a little after eleven, but I knew I couldn’t sleep until I’d had it out with her. It took me a good half hour and several shots of vodka before I screwed up enough courage to go up to her room.”

“Was she there?”

“Sure. But it was just my luck that she wasn’t alone. I listened at the door before I knocked and heard her laughing. That laugh of hers could shatter glass.”

“Do you know who she was talking to?”

She shook her head. “I didn’t stick around long enough to find out.”

“She may have been talking to the person who murdered her.”

Another shrug. “I guess I figured it was her husband and I had no business interrupting.”

“So, what did you do then?” Sophie knew instinctively that if she could keep her talking, there was a chance this might end in something other than tragedy.

“Well, as soon as I saw there was no chance of connecting with her that night, I went back to my room and got quietly drunk. I didn’t know what else to do.” She turned back toward the river. “Bunny’s completely different from Lavinia, you know.” Her voice was now muffled by the wind. “She’ll never understand. She wants order. Clarity. Rules. Unlike Lavinia, she’s going to whip the D.O.S.S. into shape. And she will, too. She’s a tough old broad. Unfortunately, in the process, what I’ve done will be discovered and I’ll be sent up the river.” Inching closer to the edge, she looked down into the watery abyss and added, “I figured it might be easier if I saved everyone the middleman.”

Sophie heard a noise behind her. She turned just in time to see Bunny step out of the door onto the roof.

“Cindy!” called Bunny, her voice echoing off the metal vents.

Cindy dropped her head but didn’t turn around. “Oh, God. What are you doing here?”

“I heard most of what you said.” She walked up next to Sophie and stood, hands in the pockets of her jeans, her light cotton jacket dapping in the breeze. “You may think I don’t understand, but I do. And I want to help. We can work something out, Cindy. I’m sure of it. I can’t tell you exactly what, but I give you my word — I swear to you on the friendship we once had — we
will
work it out.”

Sophie and Bunny exchanged quick glances.

“You mean that?” said Cindy, resting a tentative hand on the roof vent as she turned around.

Bunny nodded. “I don’t give my word lightly.”

“Because, you know, I’d be willing to do almost anything. Who knows, maybe I can even beat the odds. Turn my company around.”

“Come away from the edge, Cindy, and we’d talk about it.”

“I just
can’t
go to jail.” As she stood staring at them her lower lip began to tremble. “The idea of being locked up in some tiny room — some horrible dank place with bugs and rats. Open toilets. No privacy. Nothing to look forward to but a day just like the last. It terrifies me! And my family. They’d think I ran Dad’s company into the ground because I didn’t know what I was doing. I was just another stupid, useless woman who was in over her head. I’d rather
die
than have them think that.”

Bunny held out her hand. “You don’t have to die, Cindy. But you do have to come away from there. It makes my knees weak to see you standing so close to the edge.”

Cindy moved hesitantly toward them. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” said Bunny. She gave her an encouraging smile.

Cindy seemed beaten, weary, and yet immensely glad that someone had cared enough not to leave her alone in her pain.

Sophie and Bunny each took one of Cindy’s arms and slowly, carefully, they walked her back inside.

On Thursday evening, the memorial chapel at Lakewood Cemetery was packed with mourners, women mostly, paying their last respects to Lavinia Fiore. In the last two decades of the twentieth century, Lavinia had touched a deep chord in women’s lives with her message of physical acceptance and personal courage. She would not be soon forgotten.

Sophie and Bram arrived early and sat near the back, watching people quietly file down the center aisle. Normally, the cemetery was closed at this time of night, but Peter’s parents had pulled some influential strings. Lavinia had been a national figure, and on this one special night, rules were made to be broken.

Bunny and Cindy arrived together, nodding a subdued greeting to Sophie and Bram as they took seats on the other side of the aisle. It was a good sign that they were together, thought Sophie. She didn’t know how Cindy’s legal problems would be resolved, but the look on her face told Sophie that, at least for now, all was wed.

Hugh and Adelle Purdis came through the front door shortly before the service was to begin. Both looked exceedingly tired, as if they hadn’t slept wed in days. Much to Sophie’s surprise, Howell Purdis, dressed in a dapper navy blue suit, red silk tie, and matching scarf, accompanied them.

“Look who’s here,” said Sophie, elbowing Bram in the ribs.

He turned to see. “Hey, the wolf arrives.”

“Adelle probably insisted, although I can’t imagine why.”

Bram leaned close and whispered, “It makes him look innocent. Not too many murderers come to pay their last respects.”

And, thought Sophie, Adelle played right along because she had her own vested interests.

Since the only seats left were in the last row, that’s where they sat. Hugh wedged himself in between Howell and Adelle — a stalwart book between two hostile bookends. Sophie felt a moment of cosmic depression settle into her bones as she realized Lavinia and Isaac’s murderer was about to get off scot-free. The gall it took for the Purdis family to show up at this memorial was nothing short of monumental.

Sophie knew that Howell Purdis loathed anything that smacked of traditional Christianity. Indeed, in his view, any religious edifice was part of Babylon the Great — the name he reserved for all things Protestant or Catholic. This particular chapel, one which most everyone found incredibly lovely, was probably giving Howell a bad case of spiritual indigestion. He undoubtedly felt that the delicate, brightly colored mosaics took the depiction of angels from the sub lime to the ridiculous. Sophie watched him examine the chapel’s interior, silently condemning everything he saw.

Returning her attention to the front, she sat in frustrated silence as the service began.

Peter spoke first. He seemed truly shaken and, occasionally, on the verge of tears as he read from prepared notes. Sophie was touched by the amount of time and thought he’d put into his short comments. She’d never really doubted his love for Lavinia, and tonight he spoke of that love eloquently. Next came Lavinia’s sister. She talked only briefly. Her comments were unprepared, but heartfelt. She was followed by two elderly women who’d flown in from New York. Both had known Lavinia since she was a child.

Finally, a Lutheran minister took the podium for some closing words. He was a dry speaker attempting, in Sophie’s humble opinion, the impossible: defining for the newly bereaved not only the meaning of life, but the significance of death. Sophie tuned him out.

As her eyes traveled aimlessly around the room, rising finally to the golden dome above her head, Bram slipped his hand over hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze. She assumed that he, too, was finding the minister a little hard to take. Checking her watch, she saw that it was going on eight-thirty. Outside, the twilight was deepening into night. The service would end soon.

Stifling an impatient sigh, Sophie glanced over her shoulder at the Purdis family one last time. Howell’s chin had sunk to his chest, his eyes closed. What a respectful tribute from one minister of God to the next, mused Sophie. Her thoughts were full of acid, but she didn’t care. Watching him a moment longer, she was surprised to see a familiar face enter through the rear of the chapel. Morton, his Twins baseball cap sticking out like a sore thumb, moved quid into the crowd of onlookers standing near the back. Catching Sophie’s eye, he held up a manila envelope, nodded to the exit, and silently mouthed the words “Meet pie” as he eased into a shadowy corner.

A jolt of adrenaline shot through her system. What had he brought with him? And why did he want to show it to her? It had to be something important, otherwise he wouldn’t have driven ad the way down from Brooklyn Center. As her gaze moved back to Howell she saw that he was staring at her now, his expression stern. Hugh was watching her, too. Realizing that she was the only one seated in the pews not Listening to the minister, she quickly returned her attention to the front.

Ten minutes later, after several songs and a final prayer, die service ended. Sophie’d been silently debating with herself whether or not she should ted Bram that Morton was here. If he insisted on coming to meet with him, Morton might not feel quite as free to talk. She couldn’t take that chance.

“Honey, I think we should stick around for a few minutes and mingle,” said Sophie, slipping her arm through his.

“You mean, you want to talk to Bunny and Cindy.”

“Wed … yes, I do.”

“Fine. I’d be over talking to Brad Johnson. Just come get me when you’re done.”

She eased her arm around his back and rested her head against his chest. “You’re a dear man, do you know that?”

“Shhh,” he said, bending close to her ear. “Don’t let my radio audience hear you say that. It would ruin my curmudgeonly image.”

She gave him a hug and then said, “I won’t be long.”