Dead Wrong Read Online Free Page A

have heard the gossip. As far as I’m concerned, that’s all it is—gossip. It isn’t even reliable enough for this hearsay to appear in print. We have our share of gossip columnists locally as well as nationally. From time to time, one or another of them will climb out on a limb and publish or broadcast a thoroughly scurrilous story. But nothing—nothing!—about Ted Nash and Brenda Monahan!”
    Nash sank back into his chair. “My son is a powerful man—even though he has little more power than what came from me. But above all, Teddy is cautious, I’ll give him that. Anyone who published a word of his affair would be hard-pressed to prove anything. And any publisher who okayed the story would be flirting with a serious lawsuit. But it’s real, Father Koesler; put your bottom dollar on it: It’s true.”
    Nash fished through the pouch on the side of his wheelchair until he came up with a pack of cigarettes. Koesler could hardly believe his eyes. Most probably, Nash owed his emphysema—the disease that likely would kill him—to smoking. He needed an inhaler just to breathe normally … or what passed for normally.
    Koesler had been a smoker. In his youth, he, like many smokers of his era, had lit up one or another of the unfiltered cigarette brands. There were no filter tips in those days. Nor, he noticed, was Nash’s cigarette filtered. In later years before he quit, Koesler could not bring himself to smoke any but the most thoroughly filtered of brands. And now here was Charles Nash delivering an almost self-inflicted coup, de grâce.
    The priest leaned back in a futile attempt to get as far away as possible from secondary smoke inhalation. “Suppose … just suppose, I grant for a moment that my foster cousin and your son are— and I really don’t admit this—having … an affair. So what? It may or may not be of concern to you. But … me? If I wanted to intrude unasked into someone else’s life—which I seldom if ever do … but, say I did: What could I do about it?”
    “We’re talking adultery here!” Nash’s raised voice was forceful. “Your cousin may not be married. But my son, by God, is very much married. He’s got a family, for God’s sake!”
    Two thoughts occurred to Koesler almost simultaneously. If anyone should be an expert in adultery, surely Charles Nash would be that person. At least so spoke his universally accepted reputation. Plus, why should his son’s adulterous affair bother this old master of infidelity? By Nashian standards, merely one woman on the side was hardly even getting into the game. Neither of these unspoken considerations, thought Koesler, deserved airing.
    Instead, Koesler said, “Mr. Nash, Ted’s wife must have at least heard the rumors. As far as I know, she hasn’t done anything about it.” Koesler could not imagine a woman of Mrs. Nash’s standing putting up with such a situation. Divorce was not uncommon even among Catholics now. And any financial settlement in such a case would leave her with a very comfortable future.
    “Also,” Koesler added, “Ted is a businessman—a builder, a developer. His position in the business community could scarcely be changed, let alone damaged at all, merely by an extramarital affair.
    “Don’t misunderstand me: I’m certainly not condoning adultery. I’m saying I don’t know this accusation to be true. How could I broach a matter like adultery to Brenda when it’s no more than a rumor? And even if it were true, Brenda knows I’m available if she wants to talk.”
    “You don’t understand! You don’t understand, dammit!” Nash pounded feebly on the arm of his wheelchair. “Teddy has created the impression that he is more Catholic than the Pope—courtesy of the training his mother gave him. If the Vatican needs a new electronics system, they’ve got it, courtesy of Teddy. If this city gets into deficit spending over a visit from the Pope, Teddy picks up the tab. Christ, he’s even got his own goddam