William Kienzle - Chameleon

“In that hypothesis, it wouldn’t so much matter whether the killings were being committed by someone like Arnold Carson or Fred Stapleton. The target was the atmosphere created by Vatican II. There was anger-in this case insane anger-about too much or not enough change engendered by the council.

“I tended to agree with him about the motive for the killings. But as for your being a target-or becoming a victim of this murderer … well … it was Archbishop Foley’s premonition, not mine. However, I must confess, he was very persuasive.”

“Worried about me … isn’t that like him.”

The archbishop should have used the past tense, thought Koesler. Foley was no longer among the living. He wondered if the reality of Foley’s death had not yet reached the Cardinal’s consciousness.

“There remains one final question, Father: Why would the archbishop call on you specifically?”

The question was a mild surprise to Koesler. While they had never discussed it, he knew the Cardinal was aware of his involvement in past homicide investigations. He thought Foley’s reason for calling on him might have been obvious to Boyle. But then, on quick reflection, Koesler remembered that only yesterday he himself had not divined the reason Foley had called him in until the archbishop had explained.

So, with greater understanding, Koesler explained to Boyle. “Archbishop Foley had heard that I’d had some experience, at least some contact with the police in certain instances in the past.”

“That’s right, you have. And,” he reflected, “I am the very one who told him about you.”

“Archbishop Foley, to put it bluntly, wanted me to get rather actively involved in this case,”

“Actively?”

“Eminence, I may in the past have been a resource for the police when there was a strong element of Catholicism or religion involved in an investigation. But the archbishop was entirely correct in assuming that I did not dive right in and volunteer my services. He wanted me to do so in this case, He said he would pray for me.”

“And did you?”

“Did I …?”

“Dive right in as he asked you to?”

“Eminence, that was just yesterday. I have been thinking about it. But to be perfectly frank, I haven’t the slightest notion where to begin. I truly believe Archbishop Foley is in a much better position in heaven to have his prayers answered, but no manner of inspiration is getting through to me.”

Cardinal Boyle swiveled his chair so that he was looking out the window at a once-posh Washington Boulevard. He was deep in thought. Koesler did not intrude.

At length, Boyle spoke. “Father, it is beyond my dominion to commission you or assign you the task of ‘diving right in’ as you put it. But I would like you to.”

“You would?” During their association, Cardinal Boyle had assigned Koesler to a number of diverse jobs, Strangest of all, given his lack of journalistic training, had been the assignment as editor-in-chief of the Detroit Catholic. But nothing could compare with asking him to, in effect, solve some murders.

“Does this surprise you?” Boyle asked.

“I’m flabbergasted.”

“I had given some consideration to asking this of you. However, I don’t think in the end I would have asked you if you had not told me of Archbishop Foley’s request. I feel we owe this to him … to his memory,”

“Well, I’m … impressed. I’d like to tell you that with a double episcopal commission, I am indeed about to dive right in. But I still haven’t the foggiest idea of where to begin,”

“We must trust in Divine Providence.”

“Yes, Eminence, but-”

The phone rang. Boyle pushed the intercom speaker button.

“Excuse the interruption, your Eminence,” came the unmistakable voice of the Cardinal’s secretary, “but there is a call for Father Koesler. It’s from a Lieutenant Tully of the Police Department. I wouldn’t have disturbed you, but the lieutenant said it was urgent.”

For the first time this morning, Boyle smiled. “An answer to prayer?”

Koesler picked up the phone. “Your place or mine?”

“The tendency now is to panic,” Tully said.

He and Koesler were seated on opposite sides of the desk in the priest’s office in St. Joseph’s rectory. Tully had requested they meet here to avoid the intense traffic, noise, and confusion of police headquarters.

“Everybody wants this case closed yesterday,” Tully continued. “So far, the news media have been having fun with the story. Now that the old bishop got killed they’re acting like for the first time we got to get serious about this thing. A gentle old man gets killed for no apparent reason and right away they want a body on the gallows. The media reached the mayor, who makes a grandstand play of seeming to assign every cop in the city to the case. That’s when everything hits the fan and there’s a tendency to panic. But that’s a blunder. So I want to have a very cool-headed conversation with you and figure a few more things out.”

“I’ll help any way I can,” Koesler said. He had no intention of mentioning to Tully anything about his recent conversations with Archbishops Foley and Boyle.

“If you’re going to be a help on this case, you’ve got to know most of what we know. And then I want to know everything you know,” Tully added.

“First off, we had what I thought was an excellent lead that doesn’t seem to be working out. Unless that lead gets hot again, mere’s no reason we have to go over it now. It’s enough to say that that lead has nothing to do with the Church.

“Something you should know,” Tully continued, “is how Foley was killed.”

“It was different from the others? I didn’t hear anything about that in the news.”

“We didn’t release that information. It was an execution-style killing.”

“Execution-style? I-”

“The bullet entered from the top of the skull, The old man was forced to kneel and then he was shot from behind, like some poor sucker who crossed the mob. I don’t know why the killer had to do that; as far as I can tell, the poor guy didn’t do anything to anybody.”

“Kneeling …” Koesler said, barely audibly. “Imaybedead wrong, but I don’t think the bishop was forced to kneel.”

“Not forced-? Then what? Praying?”

“I think it’s that exacdy. I think the bishop asked to say a last prayer when he knew he was going to die. And it sort of fits the profile of your suspects.”

Tully reacted as if he’d been stung. “Suspects? What suspects?”

“Uh-oh …”

“What suspects? What have you heard?”

“Only that two men are under suspicion.” Koesler yielded before Tully’s hard gaze. “Arnold Carson and Fred Stapleton.”

“Where did you hear that?”

Koesler hesitated. “A priest.”

“Damn leaks! We don’t have the time to find them-now. Later. Okay, if Carson and Stapleton are suspects, why would that fit in with the way Foley was killed?”

“Only that diey both are-it sounds kind of illogical when we’re talking about a murderer-but they both are rather deeply religious, even at opposite extremes of the spectrum. I mean-as you said, Lieutenant-there was no reason anyone Would want to turn this murder into an execution. Particularly since Helen Donovan and Larry Hoffer were not dealt with in that manner. That, plus the bishop’s deep spirituality, makes it likely that he wasn’t forced to kneel. He probably asked to do so-if he didn’t do so instinctively.

“The thing is,” Koesler added, “if what we’re supposing actually happened, the request was granted. It’s safe to assume that an ordinary killer, far from being inclined to grant such a request, would probably be anxious to get it over with and get away as quickly as he could … isn’t that right?”