William Kienzle - Bishop as Pawn

“One thing, Lieutenant,” Koesler said, “I don’t understand why the kids are being so cooperative.…”

Tully smiled. “Mr. Anthony Wayne. Whatever we could do to them is absolutely nothing compared with what Mr. Wayne’s organization would do to them if they didn’t cooperate with us and tell us the truth.”

“So,” Koznicki said, “it is as Lieutenant Tully thought in the beginning: robbery and murder for drugs. It happens so often. If we had not been sidetracked from the beginning with that preoccupation with Father Carleson, much of this might not have happened.”

Koznicki did not mention Quirt, who was responsible, as far as the police were concerned, for the Carleson preoccupation. It was not in the inspector’s nature to needlessly place blame.

“Kleimer,” Koznicki continued, “might have ended up prosecuting the guilty parties. He might not even have learned what happened to his former wife and her reconciliation with the Church. He definitely would not now be accused of murder. Fate is strange.

“By the way …” Koznicki turned to Tully. “… have you heard who will be defending Kleimer?”

Tully chuckled. “Yeah. Avery Cone. He’s got some free time now that he’s no longer retained by the Church to work on Carleson’s case.”

“And Father Carleson,” Koznicki asked Koesler, “what will he be doing?”

“He hasn’t decided. So much publicity! But I think he’s going to continue his incardination procedure with the Detroit archdiocese. He is, naturally, quite impressed with Cardinal Boyle. And I’m particularly pleased: He has become a dear friend.”

Tully picked up the coffeepot from the hot plate and tipped it over his cup. Nothing emerged.

Koesler reached for the pot. “It’s empty. Here, let me just go fix another pot-”

“No!” Tully responded, somewhat more forcefully than necessary. He glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to get back to work. But thanks anyway.”

Koesler looked invitingly at Inspector Koznicki.

“No, no … none for me either. We must be back at headquarters. There is always so much to do.”

Once again, Koesler had to wonder. Oh, well; at least his newfound friend Father Carleson liked his coffee.

The two officers were getting into their overcoats. Tully, head tilted toward Koesler, said, “By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask you …” His tone indicated a facetious question. “… is there any possibility that something Catholic-something spectacularly Catholic-is scheduled for next year?”

“Well,” Koesler said in utter sincerity, “there has been talk of a Papal visit to Detroit-”

Koznicki’s mouth dropped. “A Papal visit! Good Lord, save us!”

To which Koesler replied, “Amen.”