William Kienzle - Requiem for Moses

“That’s what the guy who did it wants us to think.”

Fisher shook his head. “The Higbie bunch. The gang that couldn’t shoot straight.”

“Yeah. You got something?”

“Maybe. I got a snitch-very reliable-who says the doc who’s been in the paper and on TV all the time lately-he’s the guy who put out the contract.”

Tully was elated. “Will you go down and help us get a warrant? I really need this.”

“Hey, why the hell do you think I bothered looking you up if I wasn’t gonna do right by you? Sure, we’ll get your warrant.”

“Thanks, buddy.”

Mangiapane approached, looking positively beatific. “Zoo, one of our guys just got this from dispatch. Doc Green died-just a little while ago. A blue-and-white responded. They report the guy definitely is dead. They wanted to know does Homicide want to take a look?”

“Does a politician kiss babies? Let’s go!”

As he turned, Tully added, “Just so there’s no loose ends call Father Koesler. He’s been in this from the beginning-before we even got into it. Ask him to meet us at the Greens’ apartment.”

En route downtown, Mangiapane asked to be patched through to Koesler. “Father? Father Koesler?”

“Yes.”

“Sergeant Mangiapane here. Lieutenant Tully wants you to meet us at Dr. Green’s apartment right away. Can you make it?”

“Yes, I think so. What’s up?”

“Dr. Green died.”

“Again?”

At the Green apartment when Tully and Mangiapane arrived were Father Koesler, David Green, Dr. Garnet Fox, Judith Green and her fiance, Bill Gray. Introductions were unnecessary.

Green’s son and daughter, as well as Gray, appeared to be exhausted. And little wonder: A great deal had happened in less than a week.

Fox was packing instruments into a black bag. He looked up and smiled as the two officers entered. “This is, indeed, an occasion to be remembered. Seldom does a Homicide lieutenant make a routine call like this. Overkill?”

“With Dr. Green,” Tully responded, “maybe overkill is impossible. What is it, Doc?”

“Well,” Fox said, “it is for certain that Moses Green has expired.”

“All the bases were touched this time,” Bill Gray explained. “About an hour ago, Margie called Dave, and he got in touch with us. Margie sounded like she was on her last legs. So we told her we’d take over.”

“We called Dr. Fox,” Dave continued. “Then we called the police. I guess they got in touch with you, Lieutenant.”

Tully nodded. “I assume Mrs. Green is resting.”

“I gave her something to help her sleep. She’s in her bedroom”

“And the doctor?”

“In the next room,” Fox said. “I’ll take you in.” He led Tully, Mangiapane, and Koesler into a guest room that had been converted into a replica of a hospital room.

On the bed, with a white sheet covering all but his head, was Moses Green. He certainly seemed dead. But, then, everyone had been through that before.

They stood at the bedside. No one spoke.

Tully could not help thinking of Green’s effect on so many people. He’d done his best-or worst-to ruin the lives of at least six people, counting his wife. And, in all probability, he was responsible for the deaths of two innocent people.

There were, perhaps, few people of whom it could be said that the world was a better place without them. Dr. Moses Green was such a person.

“So what do you think, Doctor?” Tully asked.

“Overdose,” Fox said definitively.

“What?”

“Morphine.”

“You’re sure?”

“Pretty certain. I’ve talked with your Inspector … Koznicki, is it? He has requested an immediate autopsy. And Dr. Moellmann has agreed. But they’ll find that it was morphine.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“The signs correspond. But, mostly, I gave him a prescription for a month’s supply when I saw him last Tuesday. It’s gone. Totally used up.”

“Didn’t you say after last Monday’s apparent death that Green told you he didn’t want to live like this?”

“Yes.”

“Then why did you give him a month’s supply of morphine?”

“The doctor was in excruciating pain, man! Morphine could alleviate that pain. Good God, if he was determined to commit suicide, there are so many ways. And, as a physician, he would know them all.”

“And last Monday?” Tully pressed. “What was it last Monday? More morphine?”

Fox hesitated. “We’ll never know for certain. There are those who do not … will not … dismiss the possibility of a miracle.”

Tully snorted. “Come on, Doc. You’re the closest thing to a scientist we’ve got in this room. You don’t mean to tell me that you believe in miracles!”

“Oh, but I do, Lieutenant. You should read some of the studies done about the curative power of prayer. Blind studies and experiments!

“But, to be frank, I suspect last Monday’s episode was another overdose, possibly with morphine. I don’t know and I will never know.” Fox shook his head regretfully. “I didn’t examine him. But if it was an overdose earlier this week, it proved insufficient to cause death. But, under this hypothesis, it was sufficient to cause a coma.”

After a moment of thought, Fox looked at Father Koesler. “How about you, Father? Your opinion on a miracle the first time around?”

“What?” Koesler’s thoughts had been miles away. Much of his consciousness was absorbed in prayer. Mostly, he prayed that God, in just but merciful judgment, might find in Moses Green’s life some redeeming feature. It seemed that only God could.

Dr. Fox’s question brought him back to the moment. “A miracle? Oh, I don’t think so,” Koesler said. “From the beginning, those who thought Dr. Green’s ‘return to life’ was a miracle bore the burden of proof. I don’t know what happened to the doctor last Monday, but no one has come close to demonstrating that it was a miracle.”

A sudden commotion in the adjoining room invited their attention. Tully led the way back to the living room, where they found Sergeant Angie Moore and a group of police technicians. Since David Green seemed to be the ranking family representative, Moore served him the warrant.

“What’s this? Your being here isn’t enough? You got to have a warrant too?” David was not happy.

“This is an investigation into the cause of death,” Tully said. “This time we want no slipups on anybody’s part.” To the gathered technicians, he said, “Make sure you dust the container for the morphine. And find Green’s checkbook.”

With a half smile, David said, “About the pills, I think you’ll find everybody’s prints on that bottle.”

“What?”

“When we got here, Mother was distraught. She showed us the bottle. And when she suggested that Father must’ve taken all the pills, we all checked the container. So you should find the prints of Father, Mother, Judy, Bill, and me … that’s if you get any clear prints after so many of us handled it. Sorry. But we weren’t thinking very clearly. Anyway, it seemed so obvious that Dad had finally ended it all that we didn’t give any thought to the fact that we were mucking about with evidence.”

Tully snorted in disgust. “Can we talk to Mrs. Green?” he asked Dr. Fox.

“I just looked in on her. She’s sleeping. It wouldn’t be either wise or helpful to try to wake her. She’s under sedation.”

“We should be able to answer your questions, Lieutenant,” David said. “We talked it all out with Mother before Dr. Fox sedated her.”

Tully sighed. “Okay, let’s give it a try. Was anybody with your father all the time today?”

“Mother was. Except for about two hours when she went shopping. It was while she was out that Dad overdosed.”