Pious Deception by Susan Dunlap Read Free Book Online Page B

You fooled her; you fooled them all, but not me.” She tried to read his face, so handsome despite the reddened eyes, the nascent lines of tension, but she couldn’t quite get her bearings. She had always been able to read him; the sharpness of his mind had been no hindrance to her. It was only recently that she had been less aware of his dissembling, and more recently that the startling thought occurred that perhaps Elias had learned to deceive her, too. There had been other things like this supposed trip to Acapulco. Pushing that from her mind, she reiterated, “No one knows you like I do. What is it that could make you falsify a death certificate? What did you say on it?”
    “Heart failure,” he muttered.
    “Heart failure,” she shouted. “Heart failure! Austin has rope marks on his neck and you say he died of heart failure! An altar boy wouldn’t believe that!”
    “Aunt Sylvia, what could I say? If I’d said asphyxia, the sheriff would have demanded an autopsy. The sheriff checks all the death certificates.” He took a final swallow of his drink. Bourbon, bourbon she kept for his visits. Then raising an eyebrow in question—the boy never forgot his manners; it was part of his charm—he walked to the liquor cabinet.
    “You could have said no, Elias.”
    “No, I couldn’t.”
    “Why not?
    “Bishop Dowd insisted. He was beside himself with panic, terrified that word would get out. When I told him I’d have to do a death certificate he turned the color of … this.” Elias scanned the liquor cabinet and scooped up a milk-glass bottle. “He said, ‘Don’t let on about this’—the way Austin died. I asked what he expected me to do. He just repeated, ‘Don’t let on about this.’ ”
    “So he didn’t specifically tell you to falsify the death certificate.”
    “Well, no.” Elias turned and replaced the bottle. “He was in too much of a frenzy to think that clearly. I don’t know how he’s going to get through this.”
    “Bishop Dowd can look out for himself. Believe me, Elias, I’ve known the man for years. He’s not the one who stands to lose his career.”
    “He won’t be thrown into the poorhouse, if that’s what you mean.” Elias hesitated, then sat on the pale leather sofa, patting the cushion beside him in invitation.
    She didn’t move.
    He sighed. “Aunt Sylvia, if I had said Austin was asphyxiated, the coroner would be looking at his body right now. There’d be a scandal. Dowd would never get to be archbishop. He wouldn’t even remain in charge of Mission San Leo. A scandal would dredge up everything. It would ruin his chances. And ours.”
    Under his trimmed mustache, his lip quivered infinitesimally. “And?” she prodded.
    His shoulders slumped; his head dropped, and a lock of thick, wavy hair flopped over his forehead.
    Again she resisted the urge to go to him. “Elias, I don’t have all night.”
    Looking up, he said, “Okay, okay. If I hadn’t signed that certificate, Dowd would have fired me. My job with the archdiocese is three-fourths of my income. I can’t afford to lose that business, or Dowd’s friendship. You, of all people, should know that. I have my mortgage, the payments on the boat, the car, the country club, the golf club, and the Rotary, and all those organizations I have to belong to. You know, Aunt Sylvia, you can only be up-and-coming so long. If I don’t make it now, in five years it’ll be too late. I can’t hang around till I’m fifty-two waiting for my ship to come in.”
    Sylvia fought to keep the signs of fury off her face. Never before had the boy stung her like that. She had waited too long before she made her move.
    Fifty-two, and not one notable commission. She’d assumed competence would be rewarded, because she worked harder than the men around her, because she could be counted on. She’d been a fool. It had taken her nearly thirty years to realize it. And it had taken the boy, what? Three? Or maybe he’d always known. She