The Oldest Sin (33 page)

Taking another sip of water, Adelle looked up pointedly at Howell and then continued, “I knew Ginger was falling in love with Isaac. I’d seen them together a couple of times in his office at the administration building. It was after school hours, so she had no business being there. A woman can tell when there’s sexual tension in the air. Oh, Ginger denied it when I asked her about it later, but it didn’t matter. I knew.

“Several months after I caught on to what was happening, Professor Dahlburg let me borrow his car so that I could drive over to baby-sit his kids while his wife took a Lamaze class. Their third child was due in a few months, and she wanted to brush up on some of the information.

“As I was backing out of the parking space, I saw Ginger and Isaac come out of the administration building and get in his car. I guess I was curious where they were going in the middle of the day. Since I had some extra time before I had to be over to the Dahlburgs’, I followed them. The Dahlburgs’ house was in Alhambra, so the drive through south Pasadena wasn’t completely out of the way. After parking in front of a rather nondescript rambler, they got out and went inside. I waited for a few minutes, but when nothing else happened, I drove to the Dahlburgs’, where I baby-sat the kids for the next two hours.

“When Mrs. Dahlburg returned home after the class, we sat for a while and talked about her kids, and then I packed up my books and headed back to campus. Out of curiosity, I drove past the rambler again. Isaac’s car was still there. I parked down the street and just sat and watched. I was about to give up and leave when the front door opened and Isaac and Ginger came out. Another, older man was With them. He was tall and thin, with square dark-rimmed glasses — a lot like Bunny’s — and wispy white hair. I could see immediately that something was wrong. Ginger was all stooped over, and she was walking quite slowly. The two men had to help her into the front seat. I couldn’t help but wonder what was going on. She was fine when she went in.

“Later that night when I got back to the apartment, Lavinia met me at the door and announced that Ginger was sick Instead of eating dinner, she’d gone to her room to lie down. I went in right away to talk to her, to ask her where she’d been earlier in the day, but she was asleep. She looked so pale I didn’t dare wake her. After that, I never had a chance to talk to her alone again. She died the next evening.”

Adelle took a tissue out of her purse and wiped her eyes, giving everyone a moment to reflect.

Sophie had absolutely no idea anyone knew what had really happened, yet now, finally, it was beginning to make sense. Adelle must have lived with a terrible burden all these years.

“How did you know he’d taken her to an abortionist?” asked Bunny. “I mean, I assume there weren’t any signs on the man’s house.”

“No,” said Adelle, catching her sarcasm. “No signs. But my gut instinct told me I was right. It all fit. And then, less than a month later, I saw a picture in the
Pasadena Star.
It was the same man I’d seen help Ginger out to the car. He’d been arrested the day before for performing abortions. No matter how much I might have wanted to resist the truth, I finally had my answer.”

“But,” said Cindy, looking uncertain, “didn’t the college doctor sign a form that said Ginger’s death was a result of advanced cancer?”

Adelle nodded. “And that was my problem. If I called the doctor a liar, I had to have proof — and I had none. It was my word against Isaac’s. I suppose I could have informed the police, but that never crossed my mind. I’m ashamed to admit that I simply took the easy way out I put it out of my mind. But I never —
ever
had any sense it would come to this.”

As she pressed her thumb and forefinger to her temple, Adelle’s eyes moved cautiously from face to face. “I can’t change what happened, or what I did — or didn’t do. But I won’t keep it a secret any longer. I should have told Lavinia the truth the night we met at that bar, and I might have if it had been just the two of us. But when Bunny and Cindy arrived, I got cold feet And then, the next day, she was dead. It all happened so fast. I wondered if Isaac had something to do with it, but then I found out the police thought Lavinia’s new husband was responsible. So, once again, I let it go.” Her gaze came to rest on her husband. “Hugh, can you ever forgive me?”

“Forgiveness isn’t necessary,” said Howell, plunking himself down next to her on the love seat. “My dear, rest assured, this story of yours is one many will be interested to hear.”

Slowly, Adelle turned her head until she was staring straight at him.

Sophie wondered if the others in the room were catching the look of absolute revulsion on her face.

“So, where are the authorities?” said Howell, raising a hand to smooth the side of his white hair. He seemed completely unaware of the daggers being shot at him. “We’ve got business to attend to. First, I’ll make an announcement to the ministers about Isaac, and then I’ll need to prepare a general statement for the Bible study later tonight. I think I’ll lead it.” Glancing at Hugh, he said, “Tell whoever you assigned that they’ve been bumped.”

As Howell continued to issue orders a police officer entered. Sophie recognized him as one of the men who’d answered the hotel’s 911 call on Sunday morning.

Resting a hand above his gun, he surveyed the group briefly and then said, “By now you all know what happened. Lieutenant Riley will question each of you individually about the matter. It shouldn’t take long. We’ll start with you, Ms. Greenway.” He nodded to Sophie.

All Sophie wanted now was to get through this and go home. She needed some quiet time to process what had happened, to put it all in perspective. Since Isaac had already admitted to Lavinia’s murder, she assumed the police would want to search through his hotel records with a fine-tooth comb. That meant they’d find out about his connection to Morton. She couldn’t help but feel sorry for the guy. She might not know the legalities involved, but assumed he was in a lot of trouble.

Following the officer out of the room, Sophie experienced a surprising sense of relief. It was finally over. By bringing that diary to Minnesota, Lavinia had begun a chain of events that no one could have predicted. And even though Sophie didn’t feel all that great about how matters had turned out, at least she had the answers in her hand now and could begin to put the events of the past — and the present — to rest.

“That’s quite a story,” said Bram, resting his hands against the top of his rake. He stood knee-deep in a pile of maple leaves.

Sophie was standing next to him, stuffing the leaves into a plastic lawn bag. “And you remember the jewels stolen from Lavinia’s room? The police found them in Isaac’s suitcoat pocket. According to the suicide note, he took them to throw the authorities off the track.”

“Clever, but no prize,” muttered Bram, pulling up a lawn chair. “He didn’t fool anyone. The thing I can’t understand is, the night Lavinia called you from that bar in northeast Minneapolis? How did she get home?”

Sophie stopped and looked up at him. “I don’t know.”

“If you ask me, the whole thing felt like a setup. First the flat tire. Then someone swings by just at the right moment and offers her a lift back to the hotel.”

“Must have been Isaac.”

“Hardly. She wouldn’t have gotten into a car with someone she’d just accused of murder.”

‘True. As I recall, when we were talking on the phone that night, she sounded pretty happy to see whoever it was who drove up.” She took a twist tie out of her pocket and wound it around the top of the sack.

“Exactly my point,” said Bram. “Maybe one of your friends picked her up. That’s the most likely story.”

“Not unless someone’s lying. They all said they drove back to the hotel alone.”

“Then, what about Peter?”

“Again, unless he’s lying, he was nowhere near the bar. And anyway, what difference does it make how she got back to the hotel?”

“Because,” said Bram, giving her a frustrated look, “it just does. It’s a loose end. Whoever drove her back could have followed her right up to her hotel room and murdered her. And if they didn’t murder her, maybe they saw something important.”

“I suppose it’s possible,” said Sophie, “but we already have Isaac’s confession.”

Bram shook his head, kicking a branch away from his foot. “You don’t find that just a little too convenient?”

To be honest, she did. And since Isaac was dead, he couldn’t be questioned about any of the details.

“You say the police found the suicide note on a computer disk?” asked Bram.

She nodded. “It was in his pocket with the jewelry.”

“No handwriting to verify. Nothing except words on a screen. Anyone could have typed the note.”

Sophie stared at the pile of leaves in front of her. She knew he had a point.

“Didn’t the police even consider that the note might be phony?”

“Riley did say there were some holes in the investigation, points they needed to clear up. He even mentioned Peter again like he was still a suspect. If you ask me, that Riley’s got a one-track mind.”

“Maybe he knows something we don’t,” said Bram, fanning air into his face with his work gloves. “And another thing. Why did Isaac murder Lavinia, leave, and then come back the next morning to search the room? He already knew about the diary. Why didn’t he search for it that night? Why take a chance that someone might see him entering or leaving her suite the next morning?”

“I… don’t know,” said Sophie. She was becoming more confused by the minute.

“Maybe all that diary stuff was just a cover. Who knows, Soph? Someone else could have used the situation for their own purpose. What if Lavinia’s death had nothing to do with the diary? Isaac’s suicide makes it
look
that way, but what if that’s just another part of the cover-up. Sure, the note places all the guilt on him — it seems to fit, but what if it’s wrong?”

The cordless phone on the screen porch started to beep.

“I’ll get it,” said Sophie. She drew back the door and rushed inside, retrieving it from under a magazine. “Hello?” she said, nearly tripping over Ethel. She was curled up next to one of die redwood chairs. It would never occur to her to move simply because someone was about to break their leg.

“Sophie? Is that you?”

“Yes,” she said, not recognizing the voice.

“It’s Peter Trahern.”

“Oh, hi.” She sat down, pulling a leaf out of her hair. “How are you?”

“I’ve been better. This has been a pretty awful week. I assume you’ve heard the news about Isaac Knox.”

“Yes. I talked to the police this afternoon.”

“Just between you and me, I think I came pretty close to being arrested.”

“But… you had an alibi, Peter. Your ex-girlfriend.”

His laugh was bitter. “Right. The only problem is, she was about to throw me to the wolves.”

“Meaning?”

“She refused to verify my story. Privately, she told me she didn’t care what happened to me. It was her way of getting even for what happened that night.”

“That’s kind of an overreaction, don’t you think? You could have spent the rest of your life in jail.”

‘Tell me about it. You don’t know Miranda, Sophie. When she’s mad at you, she makes sure you get hurt.”

Sophie had a hard time understanding people like Peter’s ex-girlfriend.

“This past week has felt like a nightmare. Anyway, the reason I called was to remind you about tomorrow night. Lavinia’s memorial service is scheduled for seven-thirty at Lakewood Cemetery. I hope you can come.”

“I’ll be there,” said Sophie.

“Great. Your husband’s invited, too. If you feel moved to get up and say something, you’re welcome to do so. I’ve already extended the same invitation to Bunny, Cindy, and Adelle.”

“Thanks,” said Sophie. “I’ll probably just sit in the audience.”

“Sure. Whatever you want. Well, I’ve still got quite a few people yet to phone, so I better make this brief. See you tomorrow night?”

“You will. Thanks for calling.”

After they said goodbye, Sophie glanced out through the screen at her husband. He’d resumed his raking and was now all the way on the other side of the yard. Pushing out of her chair, she called, “Honey?” She waved at him from the porch door. “Would you mind finishing up by yourself? I want to run up to the attic and check on something.”

“No problem,” he shouted back, patting his stomach. “It’s good for me to work off some of that dinner you made.”

She gave him a grateful smile and another wave, and then disappeared inside the house.

Half an hour later Sophie sat amid a pile of college memorabilia. She’d opened her college trunk last weekend looking for her old cookbook, but before that, she hadn’t rummaged through any of it in over twenty years. After she lost Rudy in the divorce, the memories were too painful.

Most of what she’d saved were class notes and school yearbooks, but there were also shoe boxes full of prayer lists, letters she’d received from her parents and friends, and the exuberant miscellany of four years of college life. But what she was really looking for was a journal she’d kept sporadically, one she’d completely forgotten about until last night when she was talking to Bram about Ginger’s diary. Hers was only a simple spiral notebook not an official leather-bound volume. After digging to the bottom of the trunk, she’d finally located it under a pile of church pamphlets.