The Oldest Sin (26 page)

“As far back as I can remember. I fought it with every ounce of strength in me, but in the end, I couldn’t stuff my sexuality back into the bottle, not even for God.”

“I’m sure it must have been hard for you. I know it was tough for my son.”

“You have no idea. A lesbian and an introvert among the fundamentalist elite. Talk about not fitting
anywhere
.”

“None of us felt like we fit, Bun.”

“Maybe. But you … you always seemed to be exactly what they were looking for. On top of your studies. Committed. Good-looking.”

Sophie’s eyebrow arched upward. “I was?”

“Sure. You know, I never understood why the dean of women put you on die Terrace Lane diet. You were just round, what some might call voluptuous.”

Sophie felt herself begin to blush. “I think I passed the voluptuous point long ago.”

“That’s nonsense. You look great. You’re an only child, right?”

She nodded.

“That’s what I thought. It’s probably why you’re such an overachiever.”

“Coming from someone with a doctorate, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should.” Her smile was warm. “You know, it was as if Howell Purdis had this team he was building. All the guys had to be quarterbacks and all the women had to be cheerleaders. If you deviated from the image, you were either punished, or relegated to some menial position.”

An apt description. “Are your parents still in the church?”

“Dad is. So are my two brothers. Mom died about ten years ago. She had a bad heart. Actually, she was sick pretty much all the time I was in college. In a way, I suppose, that’s why I never left. I thought about it more than once, but I knew if I took off, the embarrassment and the worry would kill her.”

The waiter arrived with the tea. He placed the china cups and saucers on the table in front of them and then lifted the round metal teapot onto a trivet. After lighting the spirit lamp underneath it to keep it warm, he set the milk and sugar in front of Sophie.

Bunny closed her eyes. “It smells wonderful.”

Sophie poured. “When I have the Indian, I usually use milk and sugar. It has a rather hearty malt flavor.”

“Just milk for me,” said Bunny. “It’s really amazing to think you own this hotel now. But… it must be awful for you — having Lavinia die here.”

“Awful for me, but worse for her.”

“Yeah. You know, I talked to the police this morning. They had some questions about Ginger’s diary, among other things.”

“Really. And what did you tell them?”

“The same stuff you probably did. Oh, they wanted to know if I was mad at Lavinia for anything. Apparently they’d already talked to Cindy. She told them I was furious about the exercise video.”

“Weren’t you?”

“Absolutely. I thought Lavinia had lost her marbles. I can’t conceive of why she’d want to attach the D.O.S.S. name to something like that. I mean, our intent, as an organization, is to focus women’s energy
away
from their bodies. Did you hear about that recent study McGill University did?”

Sophie shook her head.

“They took a hard look at people who lived their entire lives on low-fat low-cholesterol, controlled-intake diets. The researchers concluded that these people succeeded in extending their lives by only a few weeks.”

“Fascinating.”

“Now, of course, that’s only one study. And it doesn’t mean that I disagree about the importance of regular exercise. We should all try to lead healthy lives. But good health doesn’t always conform to high fashion or culturally defined ideas of beauty. Lavinia knew there was already an overabundance of information on exercise and nutrition out there.
We
hardly need to provide more. What our organization does provide is a place where women can meet and socialize, and
not
obsess about how they look. It’s amazing how often women lose weight when they focus on what they’re really hungry for.”

Sophie could tell she was on a soapbox, but she could also see her point. “Did you say any of that to Lavinia?”

“Why would I need to? How on earth could she not get the point?” She removed a pack of cigarettes from her blazer pocket and slipped one out.

“You can’t smoke in here,” said Sophie, reminding her gently.

“I know,” she said gruffly. “I just need to hold one in my hand. It helps me think.” Tapping it on the table, she continued, “I always knew Lavinia was philosophically shallow, but this video borders on the philosophically
obscene
.”

“Why do you think she did it?”

“It was Peter’s idea. It had to be. From what I can tell, he set the whole thing up. He stands to make a lot of money from the video, if it sells. And since both Lavinia’s name and the D.O.S.S. are associated with it, it will.”

“Do you dislike Peter?”

“I don’t like fortune hunters,” she said flatly.

“You think that’s what he is?”

“Why else would he marry her?”

Sophie saw this comment as a bit of a double standard. “You mean Lavinia was older and less attractive than he was.”

“Old and fat. How could a man like Peter be attracted to that?”

“But, Bunny, aren’t you defeating your own principles with that kind of statement? Maybe he saw past the superficial and truly came to appreciate Lavinia for who she really was. Her humor, her playfulness, her energy.”

“Right. And I’m Madonna.”

The waiter appeared once again, this time carrying two smallish tea plates and a round, three-tiered silver tray. Setting it all down, he said, “The bottom tier contains the savories. Today we have an assortment of pinwheel sandwiches. The fillings are lobster salad, cucumber and cream cheese, smoked cod roe, and chopped egg and watercress. The top two tiers are the sweets. Dundee bread. Hot buttered scones, clotted cream, and strawberry jam. Peach tartlets. And of course, the Maxfield’s famous homemade brandy cake. Enjoy, ladies.” He bowed slightly and then moved on to another table.

“This is a feast,” said Bunny, her eyes glowing as she examined the contents of the tray. “I don’t know where to begin.”

‘Try a sandwich,” said Sophie, selecting one herself. Her favorite — a Bengal spread made with butter, anchovy paste, chopped egg, curry powder, lemon, and cayenne pepper — wasn’t on the menu today.

Bunny took several.

“So,” continued Sophie, taking a sip of tea, “you and Lavinia never actually connected?”

“I was hoping to talk to her on Sunday morning, before the last day of the convention got under way. But I couldn’t find her.”

“You know, Bun, I haven’t mentioned this before, but I saw you standing outside her door on Sunday morning. It was around eleven.”

She stopped chewing. “You did?”

“Lavinia and I had made a date for brunch. When she didn’t show up, I thought I’d see what the problem was. So I took the service elevator up to the fourteenth floor.”

“That’s right,” said Bunny. “I knocked and knocked, but she never answered. I guess … she was already dead.”

“I suppose so. Did I tell you I talked to Peter this morning? I asked him if Lavinia had ever mentioned the diary to him.”

“And?” she said, pausing mid-chew.

“She had. He even gave me the name of the person Lavinia suspected of murdering Ginger.”

Bunny’s eyes opened wide. It was either surprise or alarm, thought Sophie. She couldn’t tell which.

“Who?” demanded Bunny.

“Isaac Knox.”

She sat back in her chair and looked away, digesting this for some moments in silence. Then, bursting into laughter, she said, “Ginger wasn’t in love with Isaac Knox.”

It wasn’t a response Sophie had anticipated. “It seems strange to me, too. On the other hand, without actually seeing the diary, it’s hard to assess what Lavinia was getting at. Was Ginger in love with someone and Isaac found out about it? Made some move to put a stop to it and ended up by doing more damage than he’d intended. Or was she in love with him?”

“It’s all nonsense,” said Bunny with a dismissive wave. “I’ll believe it when I see the proof, which, I should point out, no one has seen so far. When Lavinia brought up the subject of the diary at that bar the other night, she really had me going. I know this sounds crazy, but I thought she was suggesting the diary implicated
me
as Ginger’s lover. Can you picture it? I was so deep in the closet back then, I couldn’t have been found with six floodlights and a bloodhound. To think Ginger and I were in love —” She picked up her cigarette and began tapping it on the table once again. “Ridiculous.”

Sophie picked up the pot and offered Bunny more tea.

Dragging the cup and saucer in front of her, Bunny took a deep breath, attempting to calm herself down. “I’m sorry,” she said, running a hand through her short brown hair, “but these past few days have been terribly frustrating for me. I didn’t like being mad at Lavinia, but sometimes she acted like such an ass. Even now, I find it hard to let my anger go.”

“I understand,” said Sophie. And she did.

“After her death became public knowledge on Sunday evening, what was left of the D.O.S.S. leadership — those who hadn’t already left for the airport — called a crisis meeting. They asked me to attend. The upshot is, I was offered the presidency of the organization.”

It was Sophie’s turn to be surprised. “Did you accept?”

“Of course. How could I turn it down? Especially with the direction — or I should say, the lack of direction — of the past few years. Lavinia was turning the organization into her own private industry. She’d made millions off her cookbook, but that wasn’t enough. Sure, she gave generously of her time and money to the organization, but the copyrights — and the title of the organization — remained hers. This new scheme — the video — would have netted many more millions. I intend to put a stop to it. We’ll sue her estate for the sole right to use the name Daughters of Sisyphus Society. And we’ll win.”

By the determined look in her friend’s eye, Sophie had no trouble believing it.

“Lavinia was misusing her power,” continued Bunny. “Destroying something that took years to build. You talked about loving your child. Well, this was
my
child. And it was in trouble. There was no oversight committee, financial or philosophical. Nobody really knew what local chapters were doing or not doing. Lavinia’s style was way too loose, too shoot-from-the-hip. I simply couldn’t stand by and watch the chaos any longer.”

Sophie found it an odd statement. “So what did you do about it?”

“Do?” she repeated, raising the cigarette to her lips, and then, realizing it wasn’t lit, tossing it on the table. “I … took the head job when it was offered to me. What did you think I meant?”

Bunny sounded unusually defensive. “I don’t know,” said Sophie.

“Well, rest assured, I’m not going to allow these sloppy management practices to continue. Since most of the board members are staying in town for Lavinia’s memorial service on Thursday, I called another meeting for tomorrow afternoon. It’s funny,” she added. “Cindy is the only one who isn’t in sync on this. If you ask me, she’s been acting strangely all weekend.”

“In what way?” asked Sophie.

“Oh, I don’t know.” She picked at a piece of cake. “She seems … too quiet one minute, and too talkative the next. It’s like … she’s on stage and she’s got a bad case of stage fright. She’s more self-conscious than I’ve ever seen her. You know how she always likes to act confident, like she’s in charge. As far as I can tell, she hasn’t changed, but there’s an edge to it now.” She took a sip of tea and then pushed the cup and saucer away. “She can’t exactly get out of this meeting, can she? She’s the national treasurer.”

“So I understand.”

“She was supposed to present her financial report at last Saturday morning’s breakfast meeting, but you know what kind of circus that turned into.” She shivered with distaste.

“I assume that means you didn’t buy one of the exercise tapes.”

Bunny gave her a fish-eyed stare. “I left my wallet at home.”

“That’s what I figured.”

“The video was the last straw, Sophie. Something inside me snapped when I saw it.”

“Did it?”

“Yes,” she said firmly. “But it’s history now. A new day is dawning for the Daughters of Sisyphus Society. And I’m proud to be the one leading the way.”

The doors opened and Hugh Purdis stepped onto the empty elevator. He needed to get out of the suite for a little while and take a walk, breathe some fresh air and work off some of his growing tension. There were no services this afternoon, only another Bible study tonight, and thankfully, he wasn’t presiding. He was scheduled to lead the study tomorrow evening, and thinking about it now, he knew what he wanted to talk about.

The topic of predestination had always intrigued him, ever since he was a child. Did God have a plan for every human being’s life? Was it all mapped out for you in advance, no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself you were the master of your own fate?