“What puzzles me is Rosa’s role and that played by her son, Albert. I can only think that Rosa didn’t know the forgeries had been put in the safe by Corpus Christi until after she called me in to investigate. Suddenly, and with uncharacteristic humility, she tried to get me out of the case. She wouldn’t discuss it. She mouthed pieties. Yet initially she was so fearful of an FBI frame-up that she forced me to listen to repeated insults in order to clear her blameless character.”

Rosa could contain herself no longer. “Insults! Why should I ask you for help? What have I not suffered at the hands of that whore who called herself your mother!”

“Rosa.” This was Pelly. “Rosa. Calm yourself. You do the Church no favor with these accusations.”

Rosa was beyond his influence. The demon that had rocked her sanity two weeks ago was too close to her now. “I took her in. Oh, how I was betrayed. Sweet Gabriella. Beautiful Gabriella. Talented Gabriella.” Her face contorted in an angry mimicry. “Oh, yes. The darling of the family. Do you know what your precious Gabriella did? Did she ever have the courage to tell you? Not she, filthy whore.

“She came to me. I took her in from the goodness of my heart. I was forty and my belly was swollen with child. What did I want with a baby? I hated men. Hated their foul hands touching me in the night. I, who kept myself pure and childless, destroyed by the lusts of your uncle. Carrying my shame for all the world to see.

“Did she pity me? Not she! While I worked my fingers to the bone for her, she seduced my husband. If I would divorce him, he would take my child. He would support me. Only let him live with his sweet, talented Gabriella.”

Spit was flecking her lips. We all sat, unable to think of anything that might stop the flow.

“So I threw her into the street. Who would not have? I made her promise to disappear and leave no word. Yes, she had that much shame. And what did Carl do? He shot himself.

Shot himself because of a whore from the streets. Left me alone with Albert. That whore, that shameless one!”

She was screaming louder and louder, repeating herself now. I stumbled into the hallway to find a washroom. As I staggered along, catching the bile in my hands, I felt Carroll’s arm around me, guiding me to a tiny dark room with a sink. I couldn’t talk, couldn’t think. Heaving, gasping for air, choking up images of Gabriella. Her beautiful, haunted face. How could she think my father and I would not forgive her?

Carroll wiped my face with cold towels. Gradually the terrible shuddering stopped. Leading me to a small room, he sat me on a sofa. He disappeared for a few minutes, then returned with a cup of green tea. I gulped it gratefully.

“I need to finish this conversation,” he said. “I need to find out why Augustine did what he did. For it must have been he who put the forged certificates in the safe. Your aunt is fundamentally a pitiable creature. Can you be strong enough to keep that in mind and help me end this story as fast as possible?”

“Oh, yes.” My voice was hoarse from gagging. “Yes.” My weariness amazed me. If I could forget this day… And the sooner it ended the sooner it would go away. I dragged myself up again, shook off Carroll’s supportive arm. Followed him back into the study.

Pelly, Murray, and Stefan were still there. From the prior’s closed inner office Rosa’s screams came in a mind-shattering stream.

Uncle Stefan, pale and shaking, rushed to my side and began murmuring various soothing things at me in German I thought I heard the word chocolate and smiled in spite of myself.

Murray said to Carroll, “Jablonski is in there with her. He’s called for an ambulance.”

“Just as well.” Carroll moved the rest of us back to the small room where he’d given me tea. Pelly could scarcely walk. His normally sunburned face was pale and his lips kept moving meaninglessly. Rosa’s demented outburst had shaken the remains of his self-confidence. The story he told Carroll confirmed my analysis.

They needed money to acquire Ajax. Mrs. Paciorek was supplying as much as she could, but it wasn’t enough. Besides, they didn’t want to get the SEC involved too early by having all the purchases come from one source.

Pelly knew about the five million in blue chip shares in the priory safe. He wrote to O’Faolin, saying he would be glad to use them, but didn’t want to arouse suspicions by their disappearing. Several months later, the forgeries arrived in the mail. Who created them he didn’t know, but presumably it was done under O’Faolin’s direction. Pelly substituted them for the real ones in the safe. After all, the shares hadn’t been used in a decade or more. The chances were good that the Ajax purchase would long since have become history when the deception was discovered.

Unfortunately, he was out of town when the chapter voted to sell the shares so they could build a new roof. When he returned from his annual retreat in Panama, it was to find the priory in an uproar and Rosa fired from her position as treasurer. He called Rosa and told her to dismiss me, that Corpus Christi knew all about the forgeries and would protect her.

“Xavier came to Chicago a few days later,” he muttered miserably, unable to look at either me or Carroll. “He-he took over things at once. He was most annoyed with me for letting so much publicity escape over the forgeries, especially because he said the amount was trivial compared to what we needed. He was annoyed, too, that-that Warshawski here was still poking around in the situation. He told me he’d take over, that he would see-see that she stopped. I just assumed she was a Catholic-Warshawski, you know-that she would be persuaded by an archbishop. I didn’t know about the acid. Or the arson. Not until much later, anyway.”

“The FBI investigation,” I croaked hoarsely. “How did O’Faolin put the brakes on that?”

Pelly smiled wretchedly. “He and Jerome Farber were good friends. And Mrs. Paciorek, of course. Among them, they have a lot of influence in Chicago.”

No one spoke. Beyond the heavy silence, we could hear the sirens of Rosa’s ambulance.

Carroll’s face, strained and grief-stricken, rebuked any comment. “Augustine. We’ll talk later. Go to your room now and meditate. You will have to talk to the FBI. After that, I don’t know.”

As Pelly wrapped himself in what dignity he could, I heard the sound I had been waiting for. A dull roar, an explosion muffled by distance and stone walls.

Murray looked at me sharply. “What was that?”

He and Carroll got to their feet and looked uncertainly at the door. I stayed where I was. A few minutes later, a young brother, red-haired and panting, hurled himself into the room. The front of his white habit was streaked with ash.

“Prior!” he gasped. “Prior! I’m sorry to interrupt. But you’d better come. Down at the gates. Quickly!”

Murray followed the prior from the room. A story he could use. I didn’t know what had happened to Cordelia Hull and her camera, but no doubt she was close at hand.

Uncle Stefan looked at me doubtfully. “Should we go, Victoria?”

I shook my head. “Not unless you have a taste for bomb sites. Someone just set off a radio bomb in O’Faolin’s car.” I hoped to God he was on his own, that no brother was with him. Yes, Archbishop. No one is lucky forever.