The Oldest Sin (31 page)

Her shoulders sank as she realized her stab at anonymity had fallen flat.

“Like I told you, I lived in this town all my life. I used to drive a cab up to a couple of years ago. I seen you goin’ and comin’ at that fancy hotel lotsa times. I maybe even had you in my cab once or twice. I mean, you dyed your hair and all, and you’re dressin’ better, but I saw it was you right away — just like the other night.”

Sophie looked past him to a 757 moving slowly up to a far gate.

“Listen,” he said, brushing some of the liquid off the end of his knee, “how come you’re so interested in all this?”

Realizing there was no point in keeping it from him now, she said, “Lavinia Fiore was an old college friend of mine. Isaac was the dean of students the year a friend of ours died.”

“Purdis Bible College?” he asked curiously.

“Yes. How did you know about that?”

“You ever meet someone there named Russell? Tina Russell.”

“You mean Isaac’s wife? Sure, I knew her.”

“She’s my sister-in-law. My wife’s sister.”

She digested this for a moment. “You mean — you’re related to Isaac?”

“Guess so.” He took a sip of Coke.

“Then —” She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

“No, lady. You
don’t
understand.”

“But —”

“Look, I don’t have to tell you none of this. I did what I did, and I can’t change it. But, I mean, after what’s happened — maybe I’m feelin’ kinda sorry I got mixed up in it. I can’t talk to the wife, even though … see, it wasn’t like Isaac hired me to do nothin’ illegal.” He shifted as far away from her as he could without changing seats.

“Then what was it?”

“See, my wife and her sis are still pretty close. And Isaac and I, we been buddies for years. I taught the guy everything he knows about huntin’ and fishin’. He brought his family to Minnesota nearly every summer and fall for the past eight years. Maybe you don’t think a guy like him could like a fella like me, but you’d be wrong. We was great pals. He liked to get away from all the churchy stuff and just hang out with regular folks sometimes. He said it relaxed him. I got to know him pretty good. I respected him a lot.” He squinted, then looked away. “Loved him, even,” he said under his breath.

Sophie waited, hoping he’d go on with the story without being prodded.

“So, one day last week I get this cad. He’s in town on business and he teds me some lady from his past is buggin’ him, threatenin’ to ted his boss about somethin’ he done when he was way too young to have any sense.”

“Did he ted you what that something was?” asked Sophie.

He gave a guarded nod. “He, ah, helped some girl get an abortion.”

Fascinating. Isaac ready
did
trust this guy. “Did he ted you why?”

“No. And I don’t butt in where I ain’t asked.”

“But you had a theory.”

He shrugged. “Maybe.” Swirling the Coke around in his glass, he said, “You know how things are sometimes. Maybe he got her pregnant.”

“And so how did you get involved?”

“Well, he asks me could I mess with Lavinia a little — keep her off balance. You get the picture. Until he figured out what to do next.”

“And you agreed?”

“Sure. Why not? If a buddy can’t help a buddy, what good is he?”

“But… Isaac wrote the note, right?”

He scowled. “What note?”

“The one you supposedly sent Lavinia after she stood you up.”

“Oh, yeah. I never seen it until the police showed it to me. Was I glad he didn’t threaten her. I could of been in deep shit if he had. I guess he dropped it off by her door on his way to breakfast — least that’s what he told me later.”

“After the police hauled you in.”

He nodded. “But I never killed no one. Neither did Isaac I got no idea what happened to that lady.”

“Isaac told you that — he didn’t poison her?”

“Absolutely. Swore up and down.”

“He
swore
?” said Sophie, repeating his word. She knew full well that Isaac would never
swear
to anything. It was completely against what the Bible taught. She still remembered the verse. Matthew 5:34. “Swear not at all; neither by heaven; for it is God’s throne: Nor by the earth; for it is his footstool.”

“Yeah,” he said, warming to his story. “Isaac said, ‘Morton, I swear to you on this Bible and on the life of my wife and children that I didn’t hurt no one.’ And I believed him.”

This, thought Sophie, was a lie. Perhaps Isaac did explain to Morton that he hadn’t murdered Lavinia, but he would never have said it in that manner. And of course, this left her with a dilemma. What else had Morton lied about? Thus far, she’d believed him. Had that been a mistake? “So,” she said, coaxing him to continue, “on Sunday evening, Isaac paid you off?”

“Cripes, you make it sound so … dirty.” He cleared his throat, took a sip of Coke, and then began again. “See, it wasn’t like the way you’re paintin’ it. Isaac asked me to do him a favor and I done it. No questions asked. And then, well, you know how hard it is to make a buck. He knew I got laid off from my job three weeks ago, so he gave me some money to tide me and the family over. That’s all. I ain’t done nothin’ wrong.” He glanced up at the TV set, batting at his cheek with the back of his hand.

Was that a tear? wondered Sophie. An odd reaction. “Ad right,” she said, picking up her coffee cup but rejecting it when she realized it was lukewarm. “I appreciate your time. I’ll be talking to Isaac later today. One way or the other, I intend to find out who murdered Lavinia Fiore.”

“You
what
?” he said, staring at her as if she’d lost her mind.

She was unnerved by his sudden intensity. “I said … I intend to find out —”

“No no,” he said, shaking his head. “The part about Isaac.”

She realized she was growing impatient with him. “That I hope to meet with Isaac later in the day. Actually, I’m sure by the time I get back to the hotel, I’ll have a message from him.”

“You talk to angels, lady?”

“Excuse me?”

He flicked his eyes to the TV screen.

As Sophie looked up she saw the beginning of a news clip showing the police surrounding a parked car. The voiceover said, “An early-morning runner found a man dead in his car at Boom Island Park in downtown Minneapolis. Police later identified the man as Isaac Knox of St. Louis, Missouri. While the initial cause of death was thought to be a heart attack, the police later discovered a computer diskette in the man’s pocket containing a suicide note. Knox was in the Twin Cities for a church convention.”

Sophie felt as if a firecracker had gone off inside her head. She was dazed — stunned. Unable to move.

“The wife’s been cryin’ since they announced it on the morning news,” said Morton softly. “She wouldn’t even let the kids go to school. I had a hell of a time gettin’ out of the house. She’s been on the phone to her sister off and on all day.”

“I … didn’t know,” said Sophie. “I’m sorry.” It was about all she could squeeze out of her paralyzed brain.

“Yeah. Thanks. Anyway,” he said, folding his arms over his chest and returning his attention to the TV. “It’s a hell of a mess.”

When Rudy worked afternoons, he often took a break around two and walked for a while in the Maxfield’s garden. Today, as he entered through the spiked wrought-iron gate, he saw Hugh Purdis sitting on a far bench, his arms resting on his knees, his eyes staring straight ahead. He looked like a man deep in thought, someone who wanted to be left alone.

As Rudy wove his way through the gravel-lined paths, he made a quick decision. He’d been wanting to talk to Hugh Purdis ever since he’d learned that the Purdis family was going to be staying at the hotel. This was the first time he’d seen Hugh by himself, instead of surrounded by a mass of people all vying for his attention.

The gravel crunched softly under his feet as he slowed his pace, hoping he wasn’t interrupting something important. He didn’t like to be bothered when he was deep in thought either, but this couldn’t wait. It might be his last opportunity to catch him alone. The church festival ended day after tomorrow. As far as he was concerned, it was now or never.

Clearing his throat, he said, “Mr. Purdis?”

Hugh stirred from his reverie. “Yes?”

Rudy could tell that Hugh was looking at him, but not really seeing him. “You may not recognize me. I’m Rudy Greenway. Norm and Sophie Greenway’s son.”

Confusion creased his eyes. “Oh, sure. I remember you. Nice to see you again.”

Rudy wasn’t certain he did remember. He’d been pulled back from someplace far away and the response felt like a simple reflex. “I wonder if I could talk to you for a minute.”

“Wed …” He took Rudy in for the first time. “You said you were Norm Greenway’s son?”

“That’s right.”

“Wed, sure I remember you. You were a lot younger the last time we met.”

Rudy smiled. “It was at the church summer camp. I was fifteen.”

“Right.” He returned the young man’s smile, then moved over so Rudy could sit next to him. “How’s that dad of yours? I haven’t seen him since —” He seemed to recall something unpleasant.

Easing down next to him, Rudy said, “I haven’t seen my dad in a couple of years. I left the church when I came to Minnesota to attend the U of M.”

He nodded. “Norm told me. I was sorry to hear about it.”

“There’s no need to be sorry. I hope you won’t take this the wrong way, but I’m pretty much through with totalitarian religions, Mr. Purdis.”

Hugh gave a weary laugh, glancing at Rudy with a wry smile. “Are you now? Well, you know, ad religions are more or less totalitarian, son. It’s in their nature.”

“I guess that’s where we disagree.”

“Do we? How so?”

“Wed, it seems to me that the Bible gives us standards, teds us what’s right and wrong — what’s of value, and what’s of no value. But it doesn’t attempt to do our thinking for us, doesn’t demand that we give absolute allegiance to any man — to his thoughts, his opinions, his tastes, and especially his whims.”

Hugh seemed surprised. “Is that how you saw the Church of the Firstborn?”

“I’m afraid it is, sir,” said Rudy, feeling his stomach tighten. This wasn’t easy for him. For most of his life he’d believed that the Purdis family headed the only true church on earth. Father and son were holy men. “Since I’ve left, I’ve slowly come to see the kind of damage some of your doctrines have done.”

His smile faded. “For instance?”

“I had a friend die because she wasn’t allowed to go to a doctor. I’ve seen two very fine women beaten and brutalized by men they couldn’t leave because the church told them that when they married, it was forever, for better or worse, they would never be allowed to divorce.”

“But we changed that doctrine,” said Hugh. “I agree with you, it was too harsh.”

“But how much damage did it cause before it was changed? And
why
was it changed, Mr. Purdis? Because you saw the error of your ways, or because, before your mother died, your father was thinking of divorcing her?”

Hugh looked off in the distance, choosing not to respond.

“You know,” continued Rudy, “my dad gave a sermon once on corporal punishment — how a father had a right to discipline his child the way he saw fit. The next day one of my buddies came to school with welts all over his back. I told my dad about it, but he wouldn’t even go talk to the guy’s father. He said it was none of his business.”

“That was wrong, Rudy.”

“I agree. But it doesn’t change what happened, or a church philosophy that says that a man is the king of his castle. What he does within its four walls is no one’s business but his own.”

Hugh focused his attention on a distant hedge. “What else upset you?”

“Well, in 1989, the year Howell Purdis said Christ was returning to earth, I saw people quit their jobs and sell their houses in preparation for the Second Coming. They sent all their money to headquarters and then waited and prayed. When Christ didn’t return, they asked for the money back and were told it wasn’t possible. These people ended up on welfare, Mr. Purdis. Their fives were ruined.”

“Matters were mishandled, I agree,” said Hugh. “We should never have set a date.”

“Set a date? What about the money you never gave back?”

“We’re human, Rudy. We make mistakes/’

“I never saw much of that humility from the pulpit,” said Rudy indignantly. “And I’ve been listening all my life.”

__ Hugh was silent for a long moment. Finally, he said, “No, maybe not.”

Rudy was a little amazed at the passive way Hugh was taking all this in without getting angry. “You know, Mr. Purdis, I was taught that I belonged to the one true church — we were the only ones who knew the truth. The rest of the world was steeped in error, but we,” he said, emphasizing the word, “were special. We were small and persecuted by the larger Christian denominations, but that’s the way the Bible said it would be. It didn’t matter what lies people spread about us because we knew that only godless heathens would go to church on Sunday, instead of the true Sabbath. Only heathens wore makeup and celebrated pagan holidays like Christmas and Easter. As far as I can see, all our so-called knowledge did for us was give us permission to be arrogant, self-righteous, and intolerant. Sure, we were told to despise the sin and not the sinner, but in my experience, that’s a pretty tall order, It’s a mental trick most people can’t perform. In the end I think all we got was the message that it was not only okay to feel superior, but it was all right to hate.”