Michelangelo's Notebook by Paul Christopher Read Free Book Online Page A

like that, Francis?”
    “I look for no rewards, Eminence. This is my job. It is how I serve.”
    “This is no one’s job, Francis, man or priest, to clean up the moral defecations of someone who should have known better.”
    “No priest is anything but a man, Eminence. First and last, he is a man. And the pope is only a priest.”
    “You would teach me religious ethics?” The cardinal smiled gently.
    “It is simple doctrine.”
    “Which we all learned long ago in the
seminaria,
but an ordinary man would be deemed a fiend for what this vicar of Christ did. There was a time when he would have burned. Now he is to be a saint.”
    “It is a cliché, Eminence, but God works in mysterious ways, His wonders to perform.”
    “I doubt that this has anything to do with God or His wonders, Francis,” said the cardinal. “I doubt that very much.”
     
     
     

10
     
     
    Delaney and Finn were alone in the apartment. He sat beside her on the couch. When he spoke, his voice was soft and gentle with just the slightest hint of a lilt she knew couldn’t be real because he’d obviously come from New York’s Hell’s Kitchen and not Dublin’s Fade Street—not that she really knew much about either. On the other hand, she had what she thought was a pretty good mind and a straightforward Midwestern distrust of people who were too nice for too little reason. The best candy is from strangers, her mother used to tell her.
    “It was probably no more than a junkie looking for something to sell,” said the detective. “A terrible thing, surely, but the murder of Dr. Crawley seems an awful coincidence. I’m sure you see that. And you having an argument with him this afternoon and all.”
    “I don’t see what the possible connection could be.”
    “Neither do I, Finn, which is why I’m here—to see if there is one or not.”
    “There isn’t.”
    “What was the fight about?”
    “A difference of opinion about art. I found a drawing stuck in the back of a storage drawer. I was positive it was by Michelangelo. Dr. Crawley thought otherwise. We had words. He fired me.”
    “A difference of opinion hardly seems to be the stuff of being fired.”
    “I agree.”
    “Then why did he do it?” Delaney said, smiling calmly. “There it is again. You see, Finn, another mystery.”
    “I don’t think he liked someone so young disputing his expertise. The man had an ego the size of a house.”
    “Did he know young Peter?” Delaney asked gently.
    “No. I don’t think so, anyway.”
    “Do you have any idea who would have been angry enough at Crawley to kill him?”
    “I didn’t know him very well.”
    “What happened to the Michelangelo drawing?”
    Finn frowned. It seemed like a strange question and she told him so.
    “A drawing by Michelangelo would be valuable, I presume,” he answered.
    “Of course.”
    Delaney shrugged. “So there’s motive for killing him.”
    “The last time I saw it he had it in his hands. I’d put it back in its acetate cover—”
    “Why did you have it out in the first place?” Delaney asked sharply.
    Finn hesitated. Why was he so interested in the drawing? To her it didn’t seem to have anything to do with Peter’s death or Crawley’s. She’d taken the cover off to get a clearer image when she photographed it, but she decided not to tell him—not yet, anyway.
    “I wanted to get a better look at it.” Not a lie, really.
    “But it was back in its cover when he had it?”
    “Yes.”
    “And that’s the last you saw of it?”
    “Yes.”
    “He didn’t put it back in the drawer?”
    “He might have after I left.”
    “But you didn’t see him do it?”
    “No.”
    Delaney sat back on the couch and looked at Finn. A beautiful Irish girl with a face as innocent as a child’s and he was damned if he could tell if she was lying or not. He’d know better tomorrow after he looked at the surveillance tapes and talked to a few people.
    “You’re a smart young lady, aren’t you,