Wages of Sin by Penelope Williamson

Author:Penelope Williamson [Williamson, Penelope]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery, FIC000000
ISBN: 9780446528412
Publisher: Warner Books
Published: 2003-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

Father Paul Rourke ended the Mass by bending over and kissing the altar, and as he turned, Rourke searched his brother's face for signs of joy or even of wonder, but he didn't see any.

The closing hymn had a dying fall in it, a musical swoon, and as the last notes floated up to the vaulted ceiling, Rourke turned to his daughter and said, “Sit here and wait for me, honey. And think about frogs.”

Katie made a face at him, but then she laughed. He kissed the top of her straw hat and then made it out of the pew in time to intercept the Laytons as they were coming down the aisle.

Flo Layton looked pretty in a yellow linen cloche hat with a white silk rose, but she still had that shame going on deep in her eyes. “Mornin', Lieutenant,” she said softly, and then looked over at her husband as if she were drowning and she thought him more likely to push her under than save her.

Albert Payne Layton had light red hair, the color of orange peel, and a smooth, heavily freckled face. He toyed with a Phi Beta Kappa key dangling from the thin gold chain that stretched across his brown and yellow checked wool vest, and Rourke saw that he even had freckles on the backs of his fingers.

“A terrible thing, Detective,” he was saying. “What was done to Father Pat. I trust you all are close to apprehending the murderer. Otherwise, one shudders to think that simply no one is safe and we could all be slaughtered in our beds.”

“I shouldn't worry if I were you,” Rourke said. “It seems to have been a selective killing.”

“A personal vendetta, then, you think? And not the act of a madman?” A secretive little smile seemed to be playing around the corners of the man's full mouth. “All the more reason then, surely, to hope that everyone…” And he paused to give his wife a look that served to underline the word. “That everyone has been cooperating fully with the police in their investigation. I'm willing to oblige, too, of course, but I don't know what I can tell you. As Holy Rosary's accountant, I had some dealings with the Father, but we weren't particularly close. My wife, on the other hand…” He turned to her again and touched her arm, and this time Rourke was sure he saw her flinch. “Y'all were especially fond of each other, weren't you, darling? You and your precious Father Pat.”

“Bertie, don't. He was our priest.”

“I'm sorry. Was I being flippant? I didn't mean to be.”

Rourke smiled at him and said, “I'd like to know where you were, Mr. Layton, during the late hours of Friday night. Say, between midnight and three.”

It happened sometimes when you were interviewing a suspect or witness. You saw it deep in the back of their eyes—a little click, like the shutter on a camera. A revealing flash that told you that here was someone with something to hide.

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