Together they took turns reading the text and talking about the pictures that illustrated the life of St. Francis. At the end of the book, the Canticle of the Sun was printed.
“What’s a canticle?” Janie asked.
“It’s a song,” said Eliza. “Should I read the words to you?”
Janie nodded as she pulled the covers closer.
Eliza began.
MOST HIGH, ALL-POWERFUL, ALL-GOOD LORD! ALL PRAISE IS YOURS, ALL GLORY, ALL HONOR, AND ALL BLESSING. TO YOU ALONE, MOST HIGH, DO THEY BELONG. NO MORTAL LIPS ARE WORTHY TO PRONOUNCE YOUR NAME.
ALL PRAISE BE YOURS, MY LORD, THROUGH ALL THAT YOU HAVE MADE, AND FIRST MY LORD BROTHER SUN, WHO BRINGS THE DAY; AND LIGHT YOU GIVE TO US THROUGH HIM. HOW BEAUTIFUL HE IS, HOW RADIANT IN ALL HIS SPLENDOR! OF YOU, MOST HIGH, HE BEARS THE LIKENESS.
ALL PRAISE BE YOURS, MY LORD, THOUGH SISTER MOON AND STARS; IN THE HEAVENS YOU HAVE MADE THEM, BRIGHT AND PRECIOUS AND FAIR.
ALL PRAISE BE YOURS, MY LORD, THROUGH BROTHERS WIND AND AIR, AND FAIR AND STORMY, AND ALL THE WEATHER’S MOODS, BY WHICH YOU CHERISH ALL THAT YOU HAVE MADE.
ALL PRAISE BE YOURS, MY LORD, THROUGH SISTER WATER; SO USEFUL, LOWLY, PRECIOUS, AND PURE.
ALL PRAISE BE YOURS, MY LORD, THROUGH BROTHER FIRE, THROUGH WHOM YOU BRIGHTEN UP THE NIGHT. HOW BEAUTIFUL HE IS, HOW GAY! FULL OF POWER AND STRENGTH.
ALL PRAISE BE YOURS, MY LORD, THROUGH OUR SISTER MOTHER EARTH, OUR MOTHER, WHO FEEDS US IN HER SOVEREIGNTY AND RULES US, AND PRODUCES VARIOUS FRUITS AND COLORED FLOWERS AND HERBS.
ALL PRAISE BE YOURS, MY LORD, THROUGH THOSE WHO GRANT PARDON FOR LOVE OF YOU; THROUGH THOSE WHO ENDURE SICKNESS AND TRIAL. HAPPY THOSE WHO ENDURE IN PEACE, BY YOU, MOST HIGH, THEY WILL BE CROWNED.
ALL PRAISE BE YOURS, MY LORD, THROUGH OUR SISTER DEATH, FROM WHOSE EMBRACE NO MORTAL CAN ESCAPE. WOE TO THOSE WHO DIE IN MORTAL SIN! HAPPY THOSE SHE FINDS DOING YOUR WILL! THE SECOND DEATH CAN DO NO HARM TO THEM.
PRAISE AND BLESS MY LORD, AND GIVE HIM THANKS, AND SERVE HIM WITH GREAT HUMILITY.
When she finished reading, Eliza looked over at Janie. The child was asleep. Eliza got up carefully and turned off the light. She went to her own bedroom and began to undress. As she did, she thought about the length of the canticle she had just read. It was so much longer than the one on the program at Innis’s funeral.
She thought no more about it as her mind turned to Innis and Zack Underwood and the spot on West Lake Road where the car had been abandoned. All of it was connected in some way, she was sure. And maybe the death of the Wheelocks’ maid was no coincidence. But as she lay in bed and waited for sleep to come, Eliza tried to direct her mind to something much more pleasant.
Mack was coming tomorrow.
CHAPTER 67
I didn’t have lunch today, or dinner either,” said the blond woman after finishing her second cocktail. She swayed toward Russell. “This is really affecting me.”
“How about we get out of here and I take you somewhere to get something to eat,” suggested Russell.
“All right,” said the woman. She slid off the barstool and grabbed onto Russell’s arm until she balanced herself.
“I want you to know that I usually don’t go off with a man I’ve just met at a bar, Samuel, but you’re so clean-cut and polite. I just get the feeling that you’re safe.”
When they came out of the bar, they stood on the sidewalk together. She looked up at him. “I like tall men,” she said.
Russell took her arm and began guiding her west.
“Where are we going anyway?” she asked after they walked a few blocks.
“There’s a little place I know in Riverside Park. It’s got the greatest view of the Hudson River. They also make a good burger.”
“I didn’t know there was a place like that this far north,” said the woman, her speech slightly slurred.
“Good,” said Russell. “I’ll be showing you something new.” He took off his jacket and draped it around her shoulders. The coat looked enormous on her. “It’s gotten cold, but we’re almost there,” he said.
They entered the park and followed the path that sloped downward toward the river. A man walking a dog passed them, then a jogger. The woman strained to get a view of what was up ahead.
“I don’t see anything,” she said.
“Just a little bit farther,” he said.
“I don’t like this,” said the young woman, pulling away from him. “I want to go back.”
“Come on,” urged Russell, holding on to her tightly. “We’re almost there. You’ll see.”
“Let go of me!” cried the woman, reaching out and clawing at his face.
Just then another dog walker came into view, and Russell decided to let the woman go.
CHAPTER 68
One of the things that never ceased to amaze Clay was that Tuxedo Park residents didn’t bother locking their doors or taking the keys out of the ignitions of their cars. He didn’t understand that sort of trust and confidence. In his world it was always necessary to be on guard.
The conversation with Eliza Blake had made him nervous.
It was essential to keep track of what she and her friends were doing, what they knew.
He let himself into the carriage house. Searching the rooms with a flashlight, Clay determined the place he would put the listening device.
CHAPTER 69
Each laminated page of the turquoise-leather photo album taken from Underwood’s office had to be carefully studied. Interiors and exteriors, close-ups and long-distance shots, photo after photo cataloged the myriad details that made Pentimento unique—a showcase, a master-work.
Not everything that was photographed, however, would be a key to the mystery. If that were the case, the puzzle would have too many pieces and could never be solved. But surely some of the pictures in the album illustrated clues to Innis Wheelock’s puzzle—and his plan to reveal what shouldn’t be revealed.
The proud new owner of the photo album turned to the pictures taken at the greenhouse, and there it was! Clue Number One: a crystal-clear shot of the flowerpot, the numbers appearing dark and distinct against the terra-cotta.
What was Clue Number Two?
There were so many pages, so many architectural details, so many possibilities at Pentimento, but none of them leaped off the page as a clue. How could you find the next clue if you had no idea what you were looking for?
So many needles hidden in a turquoise haystack!
One thing was comforting, though: The album wasn’t in Zack Underwood’s office any longer. It was safe and sound in its new home, and no one was going to find it. Nobody else would be studying its contents and trying to figure things out.
Along with the final page came a chest-pounding realization: This album wasn’t the only record of the clues to the Pentimento puzzle!
Below the last photo in the album, the photographer identified herself.
Aurelia Patterson had proudly taken the pictures at Pentimento, and she advertised the fact on a yellow Post-it note addressed to her boss, explaining that she would be willing to print out other copies if needed.
Did she know what she had?
There was a good chance she didn’t realize—at least not yet.
But given time, she could begin to, just as Zack Underwood had.
FRIDAY OCTOBER 9
CHAPTER 70
In the moments after the alarm clock sounded, Eliza moved from grogginess to full awareness and excited anticipation as she remembered what was going to happen today. As much as she had some anxiety about Janie’s weekend away, Eliza was relieved that Mack and she would finally have some time alone together. She felt strongly that it wasn’t right for Mack to stay overnight when Janie was home. It would give the child the wrong signals. Eliza and Mack had already split up once, over an indiscretion of Mack’s. Janie had been confused when she was told that Mack wasn’t going to be coming around anymore. As glad as she seemed to be that Mack was part of their lives again, she was still a little girl, u
nsophisticated and emotionally vulnerable. Until Eliza was certain that she and Mack were making a permanent commitment to each other, he wouldn’t be staying over at the house in Ho-Ho-Kus.
Eliza’s assignment last month to interview Carla Bruni, the glamorous wife of French president Nicolas Sarkozy, had provided an opportunity for Mack and Eliza. Mack came to Paris to meet her. It had all been very romantic. Holding hands as they walked along the Seine, dining amid the flickering, sparkling lights at the Eiffel Tower, two incredible nights at a luxurious hotel off the Place Vendôme.
This weekend would be different but, she hoped, wonderful in its own way. She and Mack would have some of the time and privacy they desperately craved. They’d be all alone in the carriage house in Tuxedo Park.
Eliza went into the bathroom and turned on the water in the shower, testing the temperature before she got into the stall. She shampooed her hair and let a deep conditioning lotion remain on her head as she shaved her legs. While she was rinsing out the conditioner, she thought about what was coming up at work. She had to get in there and get the narration done on the latest developments in the Innis Wheelock story.
She was sure that B.J. had done a rough cut, recording the narration himself and then editing the video over his own voice. There was a better-than-even chance that everything wouldn’t sync up when Eliza recorded her version. Variations in pacing from one narrator to another could affect the length of the narration, even by just a few seconds. And those few seconds could throw everything off. B.J. was one of the most skilled and fastest editors in the building, but it wasn’t fair for her to come in late and make him rush to re-edit if it could be avoided.
She selected the blue cashmere sweater that Mack had given her and took a straight black skirt from the closet. Pulling the towel off her head, she dressed and ran a comb through her hair. Styling and makeup would be done when she got to the Broadcast Center.
She turned off the lamp in the bedroom and walked out into the hallway. It was dimly lit by the light that filtered up from downstairs. Eliza knew that Mrs. Garcia was already in the kitchen and that she would have coffee brewing.
Tiptoeing into Janie’s room, Eliza leaned over and kissed her child on the forehead. Gently she took the stuffed monkey from beneath Janie’s arm. After tucking the comforter around her daughter, Eliza forced herself to leave the room.
CHAPTER 71
The successful Middle East peace talks and the president’s arrival back in Washington led the news on KEY to America. Wildfires in California ran second. The story Annabelle and B.J. had produced was third to air.
Eliza had recorded the narration, a script written by Annabelle, the moment she arrived at the Broadcast Center. B.J. had edited the video to it in just over a half hour.
In the control room, Linus kept one eye on the monitors tuned to ABC, CBS, NBC, Fox, and CNN.
“Good!” he shouted, pumping his fist in the air. “We’re the only ones who got an interview with the dead guy’s secretary!”
Though neither Annabelle nor B.J. was in the control room at the time, word of the executive producer’s pleasure got back to them.
“For once I can go home for the weekend and not be agonizing over the fact that Linus hates me,” said Annabelle as she and B.J. had bagels and coffee in his edit room.
“He doesn’t hate you, not really. But even if he did, it doesn’t matter to him if he hates you. He hates pretty much everybody. As long as you produce pieces that beat the competition, Linus will never get rid of you,” said B.J. He took a bite out of his bagel and sat back in his chair.
Annabelle slowly shook her head and sighed deeply. “He’s a freakin’ nutcase,” she said.
“The devil you know,” said B.J. “If the ratings tank, they could bring in somebody else who’s even worse. Linus may be a maniac, but he’s our maniac.”
After the show was over, Annabelle stopped by Eliza’s office.
“Nice piece,” Eliza complimented her. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” said Annabelle. “I bet you’re counting the minutes till you can get out of here today. What time does Mack’s plane get in?”
Eliza looked at her watch. “He should be landing at eleven. Then he’s coming in here for a meeting with Range Bullock. After Mack is finished in the president’s office, we’re leaving for Tuxedo Park.”
“Well, have a great time,” said Annabelle, smiling. “I know you will. And hopefully, if you two can tear yourselves apart at some point, you can track down that Bill O’Shaughnessy and find out what the story is with his brother.”
“Will do, boss,” said Eliza, exaggerating a salute.
CHAPTER 72
Finished with morning prayer, Father Gehry closed his breviary. He was fully aware that Zack Underwood had been murdered. He had several suspects in mind for the horrendous crime, yet, though he ached to, he would never go to the police with his suspicions.
He leaned back in his chair, feeling the warm leather against his head, and he began to pray silently. Dear Lord, give me peace of mind. I know I can’t break the seal of confession, but so many people might get hurt if I remain silent. Find some other way, Lord, to keep everyone safe.
Innis Wheelock had confessed everything before he killed himself. Father Gehry knew what had happened twenty years before—things that had haunted Innis all that time, especially after his years in Italy. His devotion to St. Francis had gotten Innis to obey his conscience. It had also taken him too far. Religion had pushed Innis over the edge.
Innis wasn’t the only one who had something terrible to confess. But Father Gehry could never—would never—tell another living soul who else had been involved in the murder of Marty O’Shaughnessy and the cover-up that followed.
CHAPTER 73
Knowing that he’d already blown off his nine o’clock class, Russell turned over in bed and decided he wasn’t going to his eleven o’clock either. It would be a waste of time. He wouldn’t be able to concentrate. He was emotionally and physically spent.
He lay there for a while but couldn’t drift back to sleep. He wasn’t happy with the way things had gone last night. But it was probably all for the best.
Eventually Russell got up to go to the bathroom, where he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror over the sink. There were two long, angry scratches cutting across his cheek. The girl had been capable of putting up a fight. She was much stronger than she looked.
He wondered if she had reported anything to the police, but Russell wasn’t particularly concerned. It was a big city, and the cops had too much to do. No rape had occurred, not even a mugging, and it wouldn’t get a lot of attention. Russell doubted very much that anything he’d said or done last night would lead the police to his door. He was smart enough to know how not to get caught.
CHAPTER 74
Doubting that Aurelia Patterson was going to call and volunteer the information about what was missing from Zack Underwood’s office, Annabelle decided to take the initiative. The woman answered on the second ring.
“Oh,” said Aurelia when Annabelle identified herself. “I was hoping it would be the police with some news.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint you,” said Annabelle. “I know how anxious you must be.”
“I didn’t sleep at all last night,” said Aurelia. “I just kept thinking about poor Zack and the way he looked when I found him.” Her voice trembled. “I know I’ll never be able to forget how he looked.”
“It’s a terrible, terrible thing,” Annabelle said. “Is there anyone you can talk to about it?”
“You mean a shrink?” asked Aurelia.
“Yes,” said Annabelle. “Some professional help might be a very good thing for you. You’ve been through a profound trauma.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Aurelia said uncertainly. “I got through my divorce without a therapist, but I don’t know if I can get through this.”
“Well, if you decide you want to talk, I have a friend who could probably
refer you to someone good up near you.”
“Thank you,” said Aurelia. “You’re very kind.”
“Not at all,” said Annabelle.
She wished she could claim that she’d been calling to see how Aurelia Patterson was doing, but the fact was, her action was more professionally motivated. She had to get to the reason for the call.
“Aurelia, were you able to figure out what was missing from the office?”
Annabelle sensed that the woman was hesitant to answer.
“Did the police tell you not to say anything about the case?” Annabelle asked.
“Yes,” said Aurelia.
“I can respect that,” said Annabelle. “But maybe you can confirm something we already have reason to suspect.”
Aurelia waited.
“You see, we think that Zack’s murder is connected in some way with Innis Wheelock’s suicide,” said Annabelle. “We also think that Innis orchestrated some sort of puzzle that he built right into his house. Innis would have needed some help to do that. And it makes sense that he would have enlisted his architect, even if the architect didn’t understand what he was helping with. What do you think of that scenario?”
“Go on,” said Aurelia.
“We know that Zack signed a confidentiality agreement,” Annabelle continued. “But, as I understand it, with Innis’s death, the agreement could be considered null and void. Suppose Zack was killed because his murderer thought he knew too much about the puzzle and that Zack would talk about the clues that he’d built into the house.”
“And the murderer was worried the clues would ultimately lead back to him?” asked Aurelia.
“Exactly,” said Annabelle. “So he would want to get rid of Zack and get rid of any evidence of the clues incorporated in Pentimento.”
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