William Kienzle - Bishop as Pawn

“And if the call had been from almost anyone but his date for that evening, he would’ve ended the call seconds after he got it. ’Cause his prime concern was that he was almost late for that date. It was because he was trying to talk her out of breaking the date that he asked me to show myself out.

“That gave me the time and the notion to clean my glasses before going outside. After that, it was just a matter of how we-or most of us, anyway-have a habit of stuffing things in pockets-particularly overcoat pockets.

“I remember when I went to Receiving last Wednesday night, I had to take the card out of the parking machine before I could enter the garage. Then, after I parked, I put the card in my wallet. That way, I wouldn’t lose it or forget where I’d put it.

“When I drove to the exit ramp on my way out, I had already buckled the seat belt, which made it very awkward to put the parking receipt anywhere but in the vest pocket of my coat. Fortunately, Kleimer had the same experience.

“And it’s so easy to go unrecognized by a parking attendant. They don’t even bother looking up; all you have to do is stick your arm out the car window with the ticket and money in your hand. The attendant takes them and, in the case of Receiving, automatically gives you the receipt.”

Mary O’Connor brought the coffee, fresh and steaming. She also brought some sweet rolls. She was appreciated.

“So” — Koznicki anticipated the next point-“you reached into the pocket of what you thought was your coat to get a handkerchief, and instead pulled out the parking receipt.”

“Exactly. At first I thought it was my receipt. After all, it was my coat-or at least I thought it was. Then, as I glanced at the receipt, it was all wrong. It gave the wrong date and the wrong time. Instead of recording the entry as February 9,10:40 P.M., and the exit as February 9, 11:30 P.M., it read, ‘Entry February 8,11:32 P.M.’ and ‘Exit, February 9, 12:12 A.M.’

“This clearly indicated the wearer of this coat was at Receiving Hospital when Herbert Demers was murdered. It was the first solid evidence that Brad Kleimer was the one who’d killed Mr. Demers. Until then, it was just a theory I had that Father Carleson was not the killer, and that Kleimer was.

“Brad Kleimer’s plan was the soul of simplicity,” Koesler continued, warming to his story. “There are lots of people wandering around almost any hospital with no permission or identification. Chief among them are people wearing hospital greens or white hospital coats or black clerical clothes. Doctors, nurses, hospital personnel, and clergy generally don’t need permission-or any further identification.

“Kleimer is a bit shorter than Father Carleson. But he wears lifts. And that makes them about the same height. The two men are similarly built. Father’s hair is totally white, and although Kleimer’s hair is still turning, his sideburns are white. So, wearing a hat, the hair color appears the same.

“Then it occurred to me, when I visited the hospital Thursday night, that if it was Father Carleson, he’d certainly acted strangely. He stood outside in the cold with his coat collar turned down. He seemed to be making sure he would be seen and recognized as a priest. And, with everything else going on, Kleimer would be identified as Father Carleson, because that’s who he resembled.

“Before going into Demers’s room, he made sure the nurse got a look-just a brief glimpse-at him. He left it to her imagination to figure out who he was supposed to be. And it didn’t take much imagination.

“And , Brad Kleimer has handled enough murder trials and been associated with enough autopsies to know that pressing down forcefully with a pillow to smother someone will leave evidence-evidence a brilliant medical examiner like Dr. Moellmann would never overlook.

“Finally, if Lieutenant Quirt were to miss the coincidence of one of Father Carleson’s parishioners dying-when Father so obviously wanted him to die-Kleimer was perfectly capable of demanding an autopsy.”

Koesler seemed finished with his summary.

“I wonder,” Koznicki said, “if we might have a bit more coffee?”

Koesler called the request to Mary O’Connor. She entered the room with a pot that she placed on an electric warmer.

“The trouble with Kleimer,” Tully said as he poured his coffee, “is that he’s an arrogant bastard.”

“Giving him his due,” Koznicki said, “he was pressed for time. There seemed to be a ground swell in support of Father Carleson. Kleimer was beginning to doubt he could get a conviction with no more than the circumstantial evidence he had. There were unexplained doubts. And a jury cannot convict when there is a shadow of doubt.”

“Williams’s hunch that Maryknoll headquarters was covering up something didn’t pan out,” Tully said.

“Williams is a good detective,” Koznicki said. “But, with one thing and another, his Maryknoll theory might very well have been proven groundless. For Kleimer, time was running out. The perfect ploy was to frame Father Carleson for a murder. No victim would be more tailormade than Herbert Demers. Demers was dying anyway. But his lifetime was growing very short. If Kleimer had not acted when he did, there might well have been no other opportunity to implicate Father in a murder.”

“I agree,” Tully said. “But once we got onto his trail, it was pretty easy to tie up the loose ends. Mary, the clerk at Fuchs religious goods store, picked Kleimer out of a bunch of photos as the guy who bought a clerical shirt the day of Demers’s murder.

“Then there was Michigan Bell. They found that a call had been placed from a neighborhood pay phone to Carleson’s number at 11:15 on the eighth of February. Which proved that Carleson really got the call he said he did. The healthy presumption is that Kleimer made that call. He called from a nearby pay phone so he could check and make certain that Carleson took the bait. If Kleimer had called from a private phone, Ma Bell would not have had the record. Chalk up a couple for the good guys.”

They chuckled.

“But Father” — Koznicki grew serious-” this all began with your suspicion that Brad Kleimer had killed Herbert Demers. I can understand why you were reluctant to believe Father Carleson was guilty of either murder. But what made you suspect Kleimer?”

Father Koesler, in turn, was serious. “I didn’t, at first. Of course I couldn’t bring myself to believe that Don had murdered the bishop. And nothing in the evidence that was found shook my belief. But I must admit that when Don was charged with the Demers killing I had my first serious doubts. It seemed so logical that if he had killed Demers-and that likelihood I had to admit was strong-why could he not have killed the bishop?

“Then, something that Lieutenant Tully said pricked my curiosity. You said, Lieutenant, something to the effect of, ‘If only he hadn’t done it.’ If only he hadn’t murdered Demers, there wouldn’t have been such renewed belief that he had committed the prior murder.

“So the only remaining supposition had to be: What if he, indeed, hadn’t? What if he hadn’t killed Demers? How could someone else do it while implicating Don?

“And, who would, or could, do such a thing?”

“Well, impersonating a priest was not all that difficult. No one in the hospital got a really good look at the ‘priest’ who was seen-from afar-entering the hospital, and then seen almost out of the corner of her eye by the floor nurse.

“Everybody-with good reason, I’m sure-assumed it was Father Carleson.

“Who might have done it? Several people came to mind. Father Bell-to remove himself from any suspicion in the bishop’s murder. He would have the added advantage of being a priest and not having to impersonate one. Honestly-and I’m a bit ashamed to admit it-he was my prime candidate.