The Oldest Sin (27 page)

Hugh knew well his father’s teaching on the subject. To be able to make moral decisions, humans must be allowed to exercise free will. The whole point of existence was to build godly character so that one day a person could join God as a member of His family.

“Yet, was that really true? Was a man in charge of his own destiny? Hugh wasn’t so sure anymore. As much as he wanted to believe the message he’d been taught — the message
he’d
taught others for over thirty years — his faith was faltering.

Time after time, the decisions he’d made in his life had been sabotaged, undermined, and ultimately — against his will — wrested from his control. Was an unseen hand at work? And if so, was it useless to fight against it?

As the small compartment sped downward Hugh moved next to the control panel, gazing up at the descending numbers above the door. On the sixth floor, the doors opened. Isaac Knox stood facing him.

“Is this going down?” asked Isaac, his voice cold.

Hugh nodded.

He stepped on.

After the doors closed, Isaac eased back against the opposite-side wall and stared directly at Hugh. He waited several seconds and then said, “I suppose your father told you I already have seven evangelists in my camp.”

Hugh cleared his throat. “Yeah. Something to that effect.”

Clasping his hands in front of him, Isaac allowed himself a small smile. “Remember, Hugh Abraham. I need your decision by tomorrow morning. The earlier the better.”

“Don’t call me that,” he said gruffly. “You know I loathe my middle name.”

“No? The father of nations? Your dad must have liked it He probably thought it was your calling. Your destiny.”

“Right,” said Hugh under his breath. Something twisted inside him. Looking up at Isaac, he realized for the first time that what he was feeling was pure hate.

“Just remember. You’ve got nothing if you stay with your dad. Come with us, Hugh. This new church will be a fulfillment of the brightness of His promise. We’ll all work together. We’ll build something strong and decent. Not with domination and demands, but with love and brotherhood. Let no man take thy crown, Hugh. Not even your father.”

Words, thought Hugh. Just words. Clenching his hands into fists behind his back, he replied, “You’ll have your answer by tonight, Isaac.”

“Really? That’s wonderful.” He seemed not only surprised, but delighted. “I’ll be at dinner until close to nine. After that, you can reach me in my room.”

“Fine.”

Rudy stuck his head inside Sophie’s office door. “I thought I might find you in here.”

“Hi!” She smiled, delighted to see him. She was sitting at the desk, gazing up at a computer terminal. Since she didn’t have to be home few another hour, she’d decided to use the time to familiarize herself with her father’s personal filing system.

Rudy was wearing his chef’s uniform. By the looks of it, he’d been attacked by something large and red. “I dropped a can of tomato sauce,” he said, looking somewhat embarrassed. He stood in the center of the room, sniffing the air. “Something’s missing.”

“Like what?”

He thought for a minute and then snapped his fingers. “The cigar. It seems so weird to be in here and not choke to death on secondhand smoke.”

“Actually, I found a couple of Havana specials in the desk,” said Sophie, giving him a mischievous wink. “Maybe I’ll take it up — just so that you’d feel at home.”

“No thanks.” He crouched down next to her. “Have you found Grampa’s computer solitaire game yet?”

“I haven’t seen
any
games.”

“That’s because you don’t know where to look.”

She got up and allowed him to sit down in her place.

“See? It’s under Stress Management” He clicked on an icon and a solitaire game popped up on the screen. “And lode at this,” he said, clicking to another screen. “Here’s a record of his wins and losses. He told me he’s been playing on the computer for three years, but before that, he played die old-fashioned way. It’s all here. Every detail. How many games per day. His longest winning streak, and his longest losing streak He’s even got his old deck of cards in die bottom drawer of the desk”

Sophie could still see her father sitting at die kitchen table in her childhood home on Dupont Avenue in south Minneapolis, playing his card games after dinner. He always played for exactly half an hour — no more, no less. When he was done, they’d go for a walk, or sit down to watch something on TV. Henry Tahtinen was a disciplined man. He liked his routine. Before he became the owner of die Maxfield Plaza, he’d been a salesman — and a very successful one at that Sophie lowered herself into the chair on the other side of the desk watching her son scroll through several more screens. It had taken her years to become comfortable with computers, but Rudy, like most young people, had grown up with them. “I’m stopping at the Ho Min on the way home to pick up some Chinese food. You want to join us for dinner?”

He clicked a few more keys and then sat back, a serious look forming on his handsome face. “Mom, I wanted to talk to you about something. It’s kind of important.”

She wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that. “What is it?” she said, keeping her voice even.

“Well… actually, I was thinking of moving.”

For a moment she was too startled to speak. “Moving? Why? Aren’t you happy living with Bram and me?”

“Of course I am. You two have been great — more than generous. But … I just thought —” He rolled the chair directly in front of the desk and began again. “For the last few months things have gotten pretty serious between John and me. We’ve been dating for almost two years now. I just think that moving in together should be … you know. The next step in our relationship.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means … we’re planning a commitment ceremony. Sometime before Christmas.”

Sophie wasn’t sure how to respond. Sure, she knew they’d been dating — seriously dating. But Rudy was only twenty. Much too young. “Are you sure you’ve thought this all through?”

He gave her a slow smile. “If I’d been dating a young woman for two years, would you object to my marrying her?”

She hesitated. “Yes. I’d probably try to talk you out of it. It’s too soon to settle down. You have your whole life ahead of you. Why rush it?”

“But you got married when you were my age. Could anyone have talked you out of it?”

“No,” she said, conceding his point. “But we’re not really talking about marriage here. You’d just be moving in together.”

His smile faded. “Listen to me for a minute, Mom, and try to understand.” Folding his hands patiently on the desktop, he continued, “I’m in love with John. Society thinks all gay men are promiscuous, that we can’t commit. All we’re interested in is one thing. Sex. We move from partner to partner as the mood strikes us. On the other hand, that same society refuses to allow us to marry — to commit legally. It’s crap, Mom. We can’t win. I know I’m young, but both John and I want to build a life together. Don’t you think I know that there aren’t any guarantees in my life — for anybody? But we’re going to try as hard as we can to make this relationship work, with or without society’s sanction. I hope we don’t have to do it without yours.”

“But … what about your degree?” She was grasping at straws, and felt foolish the moment she’d said it.

“I’ve only got a year or so left. Then I’ll have a choice to make. I love working here. I think I’d make a pretty good chef, if I got some real training. And then, of course, there’s acting. That will always be an interest. But lately, I’ve been thinking about something else.”

She was almost afraid to ask. “What?”

“Entering the seminary.”

Her expression froze. “You want to be a minister?” She knew her son was still quite religious. Though his upbringing had been in the Church of the Firstborn, he’d pretty much rejected most of that. But a seminary — this was something new. Something completely unanticipated.

“It’s just an idea, Mom. I haven’t made any decisions yet.”

“Good.”

His smile was gentle. “I know you feel bad that you missed so much of my childhood. But you won’t lose me again. I’m in your life for good now — you couldn’t get rid of me if you tried. But I can’t go on living with you and Bram forever. I’m an adult. I want to get out on my own. I’m earning a pretty good wage at the hotel right now. And since I know the lady in charge, there might even be a raise in my future.”

“Anything I have, anything you ever need is yours.”

“I know that. But I don’t want to be
given
my life. I want to go out and earn it — one that makes sense. I want a life that’s filled with the same kind of love and contentment you and Bram have.”

She couldn’t argue with that. “Of course you have my blessing, Rudy. You already know how Bram and I feel about John.”

“That means more than anything.”

He was such a great kid. The sight of him could melt her heart.

“Thanks for letting me get that off my chest.”

“I’m glad you did.” At least she was
sort of
glad. She’d have to think about it a bit more before she’d be
really
glad, but that would probably come in time, too.

“So,” he said, rolling the chair back in front of the computer and punching a few more keys. “Were you trying to find something specific in the hotel system?”

Sophie felt he was changing the subject a bit too quickly, but decided to go along with it. For now. “Yes. Actually, I’ve spent all day looking for a needle in a haystack.”

“Can you be a little more specific?”

“It’s a long story.”

He checked his watch. “And I’ve got to get going. John’s expecting me. But I’m intrigued. Just give me a clue.”

“I’m searching for a diary, one that Lavinia Fiore brought with her to Minnesota.”

“Hmm. I see.”

She could tell he wanted to know more, but was torn. He hated being late.

“Have you checked the hotel safe file?” he asked, flipping to another screen.

“Not to change the subject, but how did you become so knowledgeable about the Maxfield’s filing system?”

He shrugged. “Grampa showed me. Ever since I came to Minnesota, he’s been wanting me to come work over here, you know that. I wasn’t much interested in the front-desk job he offered, but when the cook position opened up, that was another story.” He squinted at the screen. “Nope, nothing in the safe from Lavinia Fiore. Sorry.”

It wasn’t news. “Thanks for trying to help.”

“No problem. Now, sorry but I gotta hit the bricks.” He pushed out of his chair. On the way past her he leaned over and gave her a peck on the cheek. “I’ll tell John we finally had a talk.”

“You do that.”

“Later, Mom.” He closed the door on his way out.

Sophie resumed her place behind the computer. She only had a few more minutes before she had to leave herself, and there were a couple other areas of the system she wanted to check before she called it a day. As she gazed up at the list of guests who currently had stored valuables in the safe, a name caught her eye. Scrolling down, she clicked on the number opposite the name and found that a package had been entrusted to the Maxfield’s care the previous Thursday evening by a Ms. Martha Finchley. No room number had been given.

This was too close to be a coincidence. Martha Finchley was the silly alias Lavinia had used to order pizzas from a local pizza joint the year they’d all lived together at Terrace Lane. If they got caught, it was her head that would roll. Consequently, she insisted on using a fake name to place the order. When she wasn’t around, sometimes Sophie or Bunny would do it — but always in the name of Martha Finchley. Even now, Sophie continued to use the name when she wanted to remain anonymous. It was almost a reflex.

Her heart began to race. Could this be it? Had Lavinia stored the diary in the hotel safe after all? She buzzed the front desk and asked to have the package brought to her. Rising from her chair, she began to pace in front of the couch. No one on the hotel staff would have associated the two names — no one except her. Feeling the thrill of the hunt, she began to pace even faster. Moments later there was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” said Sophie, taking the package from the young man’s hand. “Thanks,” she said, barely able to control her excitement She sat down at the desk took a deep breath, and then opened the sealed manila envelope. She felt her heart skip a beat as a book about the size of a Bible slipped from the package into her hand. The word diary was stamped in gold letters on the front cover. She touched the leather reverently, feeling a sense of awe as she realized these were the thoughts of a woman long dead, perhaps even the key to her death. She held it a moment longer and then opened it Inside were die printed words “This diary belongs to —” In purple ink, Ginger had written her name.

“Yes!” she shouted, thrusting a fist into the air. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”