The Oldest Sin (19 page)

“Of course,” he said. His voice sounded distracted, as if he were only half listening.

Sophie could hear a clicking noise, like someone typing onto a computer keyboard. “Is Adelle there?”

“No, she’s out doing some shopping.” More clicks.

“What time do you expect her back?”

“Well, she’ll have to be here by six or so. Bible study starts at seven.”

“I see.” This was so frustrating. She needed answers and no one was home. “Look, I wonder if you could tell me what time Adelle got in last night.”

The clicking stopped. “Why do you ask?”

“She met with Lavinia Fiore at a bar in northeast Minneapolis. I was just wondering what time she got home.”

‘To be honest,” said Hugh, hesitating only briefly, “I couldn’t say. I went out last night, too. Some old friends invited me to dinner. I got back around midnight — maybe a little after — and Adelle was already in bed, asleep.”

Not what Sophie wanted to hear. She decided to press a little further. “Did Adelle happen to mention anything to you this morning about giving Lavinia a ride back to the hotel last night?”

“No. Nothing.”

“Okay,” she said wearily. “But will you do me a favor? When Adelle gets in, have her give me a call.” She repeated her parents’ number. “I need to talk to her.”

“Sure thing,” said Hugh. The clicking resumed. “Nice talking to you.”

Sophie dropped the phone back on the hook, feeling completely thwarted. Three strikes and you’re out Half an hour later Bram breezed through the front door waving a shopping bag. He was wearing old jeans and a well-worn flannel shirt. Bending down to give her a kiss, he said, “I’m still hoping we can drive over to Stillwater. I’ve got your apple-picking duds in here.” He held up the sack.

She grabbed his arm and pulled him down on the couch, laying her head on his shoulder. A little TLC was just what the doctor ordered.

“That bad?” he asked, drawing her close.

“Worse. I can’t get anyone on the phone.”

“We could walk over to the Civic, see if she’s there.”

“I already asked Elvis, one of the bellboys, to run over.”

“And?”

“He’s not back yet.”

Bram nodded, smoothing back her hair and kissing the top of her head. “You know who else you could call?”

“Who?”

“Why not try her new husband?”

Sophie sat up straight. “Jeez, sometimes I’m so thick I appall myself.” She jumped up and ran to the kitchen, returning a moment later carrying the Minneapolis White Pages. “What was his last name?”

“Trahern,” said Bram, waiting as she scanned down the page, then flipped to the next.

“There’s only one Trahern in Edina. On Morningside Drive. Edward M.” She picked up the phone and dialed the number.

After two rings a woman’s voice answered. “Hello?”

Sophie assumed it was his mother. “Hi. I wonder if I could speak to Peter?”

“I’m not sure if he’s here,” said the woman. “Just a minute.”

Sophie waited, leaning back into the couch cushions and chewing the top of her pen. Finally, a male voice answered, “This is Peter.”

“Hi,” said Sophie, heaving a sigh of relief. At last she’d found someone who might have some answers. “It’s Sophie Greenway. We just met at —”

“I remember you,” he said with a smile in his voice. “You’re one of Lavinia’s old college buddies.”

“That’s right.” She was grateful she didn’t have to do a five-minute reintroduction. “I was wondering … do you know where Lavinia is?”

“I assume she’s over at the Civic. Let’s see. It’s almost one. I think she was supposed to chair a panel that started at twelve-thirty. It runs until three. After that, the convention’s done. She should be packed and over here by five.”

If it could only be that simple. “You didn’t by any chance see her last night.”

After a pause he said, “No, she was having a drink with a friend.”

“Right. At a bar in northeast Minneapolis. But she called me around eleven. Seems she had some car trouble and needed a way home.”

“Really. That’s the first I’ve heard of it.”

“She called you at your parents’ house, but you weren’t there.”

“No, I… wasn’t.”

Interesting, thought Sophie. Why the hesitation? She wanted to ask him where he was, but since he wasn’t being particularly forthcoming, she thought it might seem too intrusive. “Have you talked to her this morning?”

“Actually, no. I left her a couple of messages, but she hasn’t called me back yet. I figured she’d be pretty busy on the last morning of the convention.” He paused. “Is something wrong? You sound worried.”

There was no point in keeping secrets. “Lavinia and I were supposed to meet for brunch around ten. She never came. So I had someone let me into her suite and —” She stopped herself. Why hadn’t she anticipated how difficult it would be to tell him her fears?

“And what?” he prompted.

“Well, the place was trashed.”

Silence.

“Everything was upturned, tossed around.”

“But… I don’t understand. Who did it?”

“I don’t know.”

“What did Lavinia say? She must have some idea.”

“That’s just it. I … don’t know where she is. I was hoping she was with you.”

More silence. “She’s not.”

“Look, Peter, I think it was probably a pretty straightforward burglary attempt. Except that —”

“Except what?”

“Whoever got into the room must have had a key.”

“What the hell’s going on over there?” Suddenly he sounded angry.

“But the police said there was no evidence of a struggle,” she reassured him, feeling more clumsy with each passing second. She was saying all the wrong things in all the wrong ways. She glanced over at Bram for moral support. “But maybe Lavinia was called away early and forgot about our brunch. While she was gone someone must have gotten into the room. Except —”

‘Tell me!” he said, his voice rising in frustration.

“Well, her bed doesn’t look like it was slept in.”

“This is ridiculous. I’m coming back there right now.”

“Sure, but —”

There was no goodbye. Only the click of a broken connection.

“Pretty upset, huh?” said Bram, watching her drop die receiver back on its hook. He eyed her with concern.

“Yes,” she conceded. “He was.”

“You did your best to put a positive spin on it.”

“Did I?” She was thoroughly disgusted with herself. She’d acted without thinking. She should have spent a few moments figuring out how to break the news to him, but instead, she’d blithered her way through the entire conversation, making everything worse.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” said Bram, giving her hand a squeeze.

His attempt at kindness only made her feel worse. She shouldn’t be let off the hook that easily. She was angry. At herself, at her friends for not being there when she needed to talk to them, and at Lavinia. “I’ve got to get to the bottom of this,” she said, feeling incredibly awake, plugged in, ready for action. Yet there was nothing to
do
.

The buzzer sounded.

“Maybe that’s Elvis,” she said, hurrying over to the door. Sure enough, when she swung it open, the bellboy stood outside.

“Hi, Ms. Greenway.” He flashed her a friendly smile. “Mr. Baldric.” He nodded to Bram.

“Come in.” Sophie held the door for him while he entered.

“Actually, I should get back to my station,” he said apologetically. “But I did check out the convention, just like you asked.”

“And?”

“She’s not there. Or at least, nobody’s seen her. One of the women at the information booth said she was supposed to be in charge of some panel, but she never showed up. I guess another woman had to fill in for her. People were really upset.”

Sophie could feel her heart beat faster. This was
not
good news.

“But,” continued Elvis, “on my way up here I ran into my supervisor. We got to talking in the elevator and he said he was pretty sure he saw Ms. Fiore leave the hotel sometime around eleven.”

“Pretty sure?” repeated Sophie.

Elvis shrugged. “That’s what he said. He’s seen her a few times in the hotel lobby, so I assume he knows what he’s talking about.”

“Was she alone?”

“Yup. She got off the elevator and walked straight out the front door.”

Sophie felt the muscles in her back relax. At last, something positive. “Thanks, Elvis. I really appreciate your help.”

“No problem. Well, I gotta go.” He tipped his cap and made a speedy exit.

“So,” said Bram, watching her. “That’s good news, right? Lavinia must be around somewhere.”

Sophie shut the door and then leaned against it, mulling it over. “If it actually was Lavinia.”

“Who else could it be?”

“Think about it for a minute, Bram. Lavinia and Cindy still look a lot alike, especially when Lavinia has her hair up. If you didn’t know them all that well, you could easily get them mixed up.”

“Oh.”

“And
, if she left around eleven, why didn’t she make it to the convention for her panel?”

“That’s a good question. So, what do we do next?’ Wasn’t that the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question? “Come on,” she said, grabbing her purse. “Where are we going?”

“Back down to Lavinia’s suite. Who knows? Maybe I missed something the first time. We’ll never know unless we give it one last shot.”

“You were right,” said Bram, entering Lavinia’s suite a few minutes later. “This really is a mess. I’m glad your mom and dad aren’t here to see it. It would have sent your dad’s blood pressure right through the roof.”

Sophie stepped over to the far wall and drew back the dark brown curtains. Bright afternoon sunlight streamed in through the windows, making the room look even worse.

“Are we allowed to touch?’ asked Bram, moving cautiously over to the bar. “Or did the police suggest we leave it alone until Lavinia gets back?’

“As far as I know, the police just wanted her to look through her belongings to make sure nothing was missing.”

Bram leaned his elbow on the polished marble counter. As he gazed at the once beautiful interior he lapsed into a kind of depressed reverie.

Sophie flipped on the light in the bedroom and opened the blinds. She needed tight before she could begin any kind of examination. She had no idea what she was searching for, she was merely proceeding on the assumption that there might be a clue she’d missed, one that might tell her where Lavinia had gone. If the police hadn’t viewed this mess as anything more dastardly than a simple hotel burglary, why should she?

She paused in the doorway and glanced at her husband, who was now down on his hands and knees searching through the contents of one of the larger suitcases. She was glad he was here, even if he didn’t bring any more answers to the table than she did. “Honey?”

“Um?”

She wasn’t sure she wanted to ask the question that had been gnawing at her for the last hour. “How long does someone have to be gone before the police consider them a ‘missing person’?”

Bram looked up. “I think it’s a little too soon to hit the panic button, Soph. Let’s give it some more time.”

“But… what if she doesn’t come back by tonight?”

“Then —” He sat back on his heels. “We’ll notify the police.”

“But what if she’s in trouble
now
?”<

“Sophie, you’re going to drive yourself nuts if you keep asking all these questions. We’ll just have to wait and see.”

Not a good enough answer, thought Sophie, yet it was the only one they had. As she sat down on the only part of the sofa still intact, she noticed a paper plate sticking out from underneath a section of the morning newspaper right next to her foot. Curious what Lavinia had been eating, she kicked the paper aside. “What’s this?” she said under her breath. She bent down and picked up the plate, uncovering several small lumps of what looked like her once famous bite-sized cream cheese balls.

“What is it?” asked Bram. He stopped his own search to see what she’d found.

“Remember those cheese balls I used to make?”

“You mean your old college recipe?”

She nodded, then pointed to the lumps. “When I served them the other night at the reunion, everyone said they hadn’t eaten them in years.”

“Maybe Lavinia took some with her.”

“Nope. We ate them all.” She poked one of the lumps.