Pushing Murder Read Online Free PDF Page B

forties, and he radiated charm and capability. The staff adored him, the kids adored him, and I adored him, right up to the minute that he disappeared with all the money.”
    Janet stopped talking, and there was utter silence. Then Sadd said briskly, “How about elevenses?”
    â€œGood idea.” Henry stood up. “Where’s your sherry, Mom?” I pointed to the bedside cabinet. “Did you ever catch the charming rascal, Mrs. Folsom?”
    â€œNo.”
    Dan said, “But you tried to and in the process found out that his references had all been faked.”
    â€œEverything about him was fake”—Janet smiled wanly—“including his name. The references were on letterhead stolen from the bishop’s office during a fund-raising campaign for the diocese—I don’t have to tell you what happened to the funds. The bishop told me his investigation revealed that this man had been in prison under the name Howard de Lamier, and that he’d run through a number of other philanthropies, always managing to evaporate.”
    There was an imperious knock on the door, and Dan admitted the nurse with my pill. This time it was the sherry bottle in Henry’s hand that caught her disapproving eye, and she stopped dead.
    â€œI haven’t had any yet,” I said hastily.
    She poured water from my jug, handed me the enormous pellet—why are they always the size of something you’d give a horse?—and watched me down it. Then she went out, her walk suggesting that she was rolling her eyes to heaven.
    Janet spoke now without moving a muscle. “Of course we tried to trace him, and of course we had no luck. My donors were wonderful. Some of them suggested that we launch a drive to start again, but how could they know the amount of capital it had taken? It wouldn’t have been fair to my other charities. St. Elizabeth’s closed less than a year later. Fortunately, I was kept busy during that time finding homes for the children, and I almost forgot Allen Quinn, alias Howard de Lamier, alias God-knows-who. I hadn’t thought of him in years till last week when I saw him at his wedding. You were there too, Clara.”
    My heart gave a great lurch.
    â€œHe was marrying Sal. His new name is Dwight Dunlop.”

5
    Dan jerked away from the window, and it was the only motion in the room. A dazed question was forming in my head, but I couldn’t speak; I could only recall Dwight Dunlop’s jovial presence beside my bed yesterday. Sadd and Henry simply stared at Janet, and she appeared unable to look at any of us. Her flamboyant outrage was gone, her composure was gone, and she sat with closed eyes, tears streaming from beneath the lids.
    I somehow got out my question. “Janet … if you’ve threatened to expose him—I assume you have—why isn’t it you he wants to kill?”
    â€œOh, wouldn’t he love to!” Her eyes flew open. “Unfortunately for him, I was in Denver all last week at a UNICEF meeting.” She gulped. “And like a fool, I’d gone and involved you.”
    â€œHow?”
    Dan said, “You wrote to Mrs. Gamadge about him, and he knows it.”
    She nodded wretchedly. “I did everything wrong. I was desperate to protect Sal. Oh, I’ve botched it so badly!”
    â€œJanet”—I took hold of her wrist, my curiosity getting the better of my dismay—“describe the awful moment when you recognized him.”
    She loosened my fingers, got up, and began to move about the room tugging at the neck of her exquisite silk blouse. The string of the scapular came into sight, and she thrust it back with shaking fingers. She said, “I was late for that wedding. I don’t know if you remember.”
    â€œYes, I do. The house was jammed.” I looked at the others. “Sal’s son and his wife gave it. They have a nice big house in New Jersey, and there must have been