William Kienzle - Requiem for Moses

“Would you have any way of finding out if I didn’t tell you?”

She looked surprised. After a moment, she said, “Sure. I know a lot of the people who were there. Somebody will know who those two are. But you could save me some valuable time.”

“We do favors for people. …” He had seen Guys and Dolls. He knew what those favors were called-markers. He did favors as part of his creed, not to have people indebted to him. “Claire McNern and Stan Lacki. He works in a service station. She works at Carl’s Chop House.”

“That’s good. Now, can you give me some idea what you talked to all these people about?”

“About all I can tell you is that they talked about their relationship with Dr. Green.”

She waited for him to continue. He didn’t. She sat gazing at him, pen poised over pad. “Nothing more? Like what they said about their relationship with Green?”

“This is the second time today that I’ve been embarrassed by that question. The police asked, in essence, the same thing. As much as I would like to be able to answer both the police and you, I cannot. This is not a spur-of-the-moment decision. I anticipated someone would want to know what those people told me. I assure you, I gave it serious thought. And I cannot tell you, or anyone. I’m embarrassed because I don’t want to be uncooperative. But that’s the way it is.”

Lennon shook her head slightly-as if the motion would help in understanding what he’d just said. “Confession wasn’t a part of it, was it … I mean a sacramental confession? This isn’t under the seal of confession?”

“No.”

“Then …” She turned the palm of her hand upward. “… what?”

“In a sense, I have determined that what they told me was a professional secret-privileged communication. I’ll explain, if you wish.”

She nodded.

“I’ll be as brief as possible. There are two reasons for the confessional secret. Anyone who confesses anything to anyone-be it a fault, a failing, an evil thought or plan, or a sin of any kind-takes a risk. The risk, of course, is that the confidence might be revealed. Plus the fact that it is often difficult-sometimes almost impossible-to get up nerve enough to confide in someone else.

“That is one reason why the sacramental seal is absolute: so that the process will not be unnecessarily repugnant.

“The second reason has to do with the one to whom the confession is made. I know you have a Catholic background, so you know Catholics believe they are confessing sins to God; the priest is an intermediary. God is receptive and forgiving to the penitent. And so should the priest be. God will not reveal the secret. And neither must the priest.

“Then we come to a professional secret.

“Those five people confided in me because they needed to say something to someone: They needed to tell someone how they felt about Dr. Green.

“They spoke openly to me because I’m a clergyman. And the clergy are known for keeping secrets. The secret was their true relationship with the doctor. They had every reason to believe the doctor was dead, thus they were able to talk freely. Since he was dead, there was nothing he could do. He was beyond affecting them anymore. If they had even the slightest doubt that he was dead, they most assuredly would not have confided in me.

“I really think I must preserve their confidence in me. I really believe that I am bound to keep this privileged communication to myself.

“And I am aware that circumstances may affect the status of this privilege. Unlike the seal of confession, I might some day be forced to reveal what they said. But certainly not now when the police have not even established that a crime has been committed. And not-with apologies, Miss Lennon-to help a reporter.

“I hope you understand. But agree or not, that’s the way it is.”

During his explanation, she had been studying him.

She thought he was being overprotective. As a reporter, she found that annoying. But she had to admit that if she ever needed spiritual help, she could do far worse than consult this man. And if she wanted a safe place for a secret, this priest constituted one of the most reliable repositories she’d ever come across.

“At the same time,” he said, “I know how good you are at what you do. You have the names. I’ll bet that in no time you’ll have their stories. If I had to bet, I’d put my money on you.”

She sensed that she would be unable to budge him from his self-imposed silence. She closed her notepad. Yes, she probably could worm the information out of those five people. But it would consume precious time. Added to which, she would have to approach them from a position without much clout. She’d have to cajole them into revealing to her something they had freely given to Koesler.

How much easier this would have been if he had shared what he knew with her.…

She would just have to bluff her way through this … feigning knowledge of their secrets and giving a great performance as one who knew the details of their relationship with Green. But she’d done it before; she could do it again.

She got up to leave, then hesitated. “One last thing-at least for this visit-how do you feel about the ‘miracle’ aspect of this thing?”

“I’d better not comment on that. The Cardinal is appointing a committee to study the incident. Traditionally-at least in recent tradition- the Church is very slow to make a pronouncement about a matter like this. And very seldom does the Church proclaim something like this a miracle.”

She evidenced impatience. “I’m familiar with that. And, haven’t you heard? Boyle has announced the committee. They’ve scheduled a news conference for tomorrow morning. I just wanted your opinion-off the record.”

He knew her promise of nonattribution would be kept. “Okay, off the record: If it was a miracle I would be extremely surprised. And I would likewise be amazed out of my skull if that committee concludes there was anything miraculous here.

“But that is a long way from what hundreds, maybe thousands, of the faithful have already concluded. Not only was the Green rising a miracle to them, it seems there was another so-called miracle today. The archdiocese is going to be hard-pressed to get a lid on it.”

She slipped into her coat and moved toward the door. “Oh, and have you heard any more about that woman who started all this last night? I spent a lot of time trying to locate her … Sophie something.”

Koesler chuckled. “Aunt Sophie? If you couldn’t find her, well, they must’ve already gotten her on a plane back to Florida. I wouldn’t have thought that possible.” He chuckled again. “She played a significant role in this thing.”

“I’ll say! She practically woke him up all by herself.”

He bade Lennon good-bye and closed the door behind her, marveling. Maybe what had happened to Dr. Green wasn’t a miracle, but shipping Aunt Sophie back home away from the scene of her brother’s “resurrection” surely was.

Tiredly and listlessly, Father Koesler fingered through the mail. A couple of requests for records, one baptismal, the other marital. Nothing personal or even first-class. Mostly junk.

Next the telephone messages. None of an emergency category. Thank God.

Then he smiled. And the smile broadened. The message read: If you tell me about your half funeral, I’ll tell you about some of mine. The caller was Rabbi Richard Feldman.

Just what and when he needed: a friend at the end of a most trying day.

Many years before, Rabbi Feldman and Father Koesler had found themselves at the Round Table of Christians and Jews. After some humorous exchange, the two clergymen had commenced a tentative friendship. Feldman was Reform, Koesler liberal-a pretty good match. Once they discovered they were not going to offend each other no matter how frank and honest they were, they were able to relax in each other’s company.