Free Punish the Sinners by John Saul Page A

you you couldn’t have. You bought it, and stashed it away at Karen Morton’s, didn’t you?”
    “Well, what if I did?” Judy blurted out “That dressyou wanted me to buy made me look twelve years old. And the other one looked nice.”
    “Nice enough to help you get into trouble with Lyle Crandall? Well, it isn’t going to work. Tomorrow afternoon you’re going to get that dress and return it to the store.”
    “Oh, all right,” Judy said, giving in on the theory that simply returning the dress was a comparatively mild punishment.
    “And you can forget about going to that party,” Inez added.
    “Mother—” Judy began, but Inez cut her off.
    “Don’t!” she said, holding up her hand. “If I were you, I’d think more about my sins than how I could get around my mother!”
    Judy stared at her in bafflement. “Sins?” she said blankly. “What are you talking about?”
    Inez’s eyes narrowed. “Do you want me to count them out for you? You can start with the lie. You lied about the dress.”
    “I didn’t,” Judy said defensively. “You never asked me which one I’d bought” It was a technicality, she knew, but she hoped it would work. It didn’t.
    “You would have lied about it, if I had asked you,” Inez snapped. “There’s a commandment about honoring your father and your mother, you know.”
    Suddenly it was too much for Judy. She leaped up from the bed, and stood staring at her mother. And then she burst into tears.
    “Don’t say that,” she screamed. “Wanting to grow up doesn’t have anything to do with you. It’s something I want to do for me, not to spite you! Can’t you understand that?” Then, as she saw that her words had had no effect on her mother, Judy fled to the bathroom and locked herself in. She felt the anger well in her, andwished it would resolve itself into more tears. But, instead, it turned into more anger, and she suddenly felt trapped. Trapped like that rat in Mr. Balsam’s box. Well, she’d show her mother. She’d find a way to get even, and her mother would be sorry.
    Outside the bathroom, Inez Nelson stared at the closed door. She listened for a moment, hoping to hear a sound that would tell her what was happening inside. But there was no sound, and she knew that Judy was sulking again, something that seemed to be happening more and more lately. Well, this time she wouldn’t give in, and she would see to it that Judy didn’t find a way to get her father on her side. But she hadn’t reckoned with her daughter’s determination.
       The thought had crossed Peter Balsam’s mind that it might not be a bad idea to give Margo Henderson a call, and invite her Out for a drink. Then the call had come from the rectory, and he had found his plans for the evening abruptly changed.
    Monsignor Vernon—he was still having trouble with that; he had almost called the priest “Pete”—had asked him to come up to the rectory for a “chat.” Something in his voice told Peter it was a summons, not an invitation; it was a command. So he had trudged up the hill and arrived at the rectory at precisely nine o’clock. Monsignor Vernon had met him in the foyer, as before, and led him down the hall to what apparently was his private den; at least, if others used it, Peter Balsam hadn’t seen them yet. The Monsignor had closed the door behind them, and offered Balsam a glass of sherry. This, Balsam realized, was a ritual, and he wondered if he was expected to decline the offer. Well, if he was, it was too bad. The least the priest could do if he was going to ruin Balsam’s evening was give him a drink.Peter accepted the sherry and took one of the comfortable chairs by the fireplace without waiting for an invitation.
    “Well,” Monsignor Vernon said amiably, sinking into the other chair and holding his glass up to the light “This is nice.” Balsam was unsure if he was referring to the sherry, or things in general. He grunted noncommittally.
    “How did it go?”