William Kienzle - Chameleon

“As for sexism, there can be no doubt we’re guilty-and I must confess we’re not doing much besides talk to remedy the situation.”

After another moment’s thought, Tully said, “You are an intelligent man. You can see what’s wrong. Why do you stay in?”

“In the Church? In the priesthood?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Because I love the Church and I love the priesthood. Even though I can see the warts and the blemishes, I still love it. I think if there weren’t a Catholic Church, somebody would have to invent it. I guess I love it more for what it sometimes has been and what it someday can be. Let me ask you, Lieutenant, is everything perfect in the police department?”

Tully didn’t need time for deliberation. “No.” He smiled, “Okay, I get the drift. Back to the nun and her job; What, if anything, would she have to do with parishes and schools closing?”

“Nothing, direcdy, that I can see offhand. She is not in a position to close any of them, or keep them open, for that matter. I suppose if she were to successfully recruit hundreds of young Women to become teachers in parochial schools, she would contribute mightily to the preservation of diose schools, But mat, I diink, would be next to impossible-for anyone-now.”

“Okay. But would she have any influence on somebody else’s decision to keep them open or close mem?”

“Like who?”

“Like Hoffer. Supposing Hoffer decided to close some parishes or schools, Would the opinion of the delegate for religious carry any weight?”

“I’m afraid I haven’t explained mings very well. Larry Hoffer couldn’t close a parish or a school no matter how much he might have wanted to”

“Because?”

“Because, in ecclesiastical as well as civil law, the archbishop owns everything.”

“Everything?”

“All properties, lands, institutions, buildings-everything that belongs to the archdiocese of Detroit-and not, for instance, belonging to one or another of the religious orders-everything’s in the name of whoever happens to be the archbishop of Detroit.

“So, for now, only Cardinal Boyle, as archbishop of Detroit, can close parishes or schools. But I must say this for Cardinal Boyle: He truly listens to the people he puts in charge of things. I can tell you from personal experience, when he appoints someone to a special job, he expects that person to do the job. But, at the game time, he does not abdicate his ultimate responsibility and power. So neither Hoffer nor Sister Joan would have the power or authority to effect a closing or extension of operation of any archdiocesan institution. But both of them could, and undoubtedly would, make their opinions known. And Cardinal Boyle would give those opinions careful consideration.”

“Okay.” Tully was zeroing in on what he considered the vital question. “We know what Hoffer thought: He wanted to close a number of parishes and maybe the whole school system. How about the nun? Would she have given the same advice to her boss?”

“I’m not sure. Possibly she herself doesn’t even know. I did hear some talk that at the most recent staff meeting, when Larry proposed the closings, Sister Joan argued against closing. But that was a brainstorming session. Her constituents probably would approve of the closings. Rather than have some schools with no nuns or maybe at most one or two, consolidating would give the religious more voice, clout. I think, when push came to shove, they probably would have sided with Larry.”

That’s two, thought Tully. His infant theory was gaining strength. Suppose the thread that held these serial killings together was the determination to close parishes and/or schools. The next step then would be to identify others among the Cardinal’s advisers who would counsel in favor of the closings. It might not be much of a handle, but it was better than nothing, which was precisely what he had been looking at before this talk with Koesler.

“Okay,” Tully said, “now do the same for the archbishop. Something about the man, about his job.”

“This is another case,” Koesler responded, “where I don’t know all that much about him personally. We had our first, and, as it turned out, last, chat just yesterday.”

“He’s been here about a year, hasn’t he?”

“Yes. So you’re wondering why if he’s been here all that time don’t I know more about him?”

“That, and why you happened to have your first meeting just the day before he got killed.”

“Lieutenant, I don’t know how often you meet with the chief of police or the mayor, but I’ll bet you stand a better chance of socializing with them than a priest does of hobnobbing with a bishop. So there isn’t much explanation necessary as to why I had no personal association with him before.

“As to why I met with him yesterday? He invited me to visit him.”

“The reason?” Tully hoped it would not be some sort of unrevealable secret.

“He had heard that I had some slight experience with the police and he wanted to talk to me about these murders. He had a premonition that Cardinal Boyle would be the next victim.”

“He thought Boyle was going to buy it, and the next one on the list turned out to be himself!”

“Strange … I know it’s strange. A turnabout of sorts. But that’s how it was.”

“Do you know anything about the man?”

“Sure. I was very much aware of his track record in Cincinnati.”

“That where he was born?”

“No. Florida. He was just a little older than Cardinal Boyle, They studied in Rome at the same time, became friends. They used to vacation together. That is all common knowledge, at least among priests … and a few laypeople who have a special interest in this sort of thing,”

“Like Carson and Stapleton?”

“Yes … I suppose so, Anyway, Foley seemed to mellow over the years he was archbishop of Cincinnati-but then, so has Cardinal Boyle in the years he’s been in Detroit. Some time ago Bishop Foley retired. He could have lived anywhere he wished. Odds were that he would retire to his native Florida. That he made his home in Detroit is a sign of the friendship he had with our cardinal.

“Which, I guess, brings us to what he did in Detroit. Probably one word describes it best-help. He, along with the auxiliary bishops, would visit parishes and confirm-that’s a sacrament that normally is conferred by a bishop. He attended meetings. He spent a lot of time with his friend Cardinal Boyle. He didn’t have to do anything he didn’t want to do; he was, after all, retired.

“He had a substantial amount of dignity. He was an archbishop and there aren’t all that many archbishops. In retirement he remained an archbishop. He had plenty of dignity still, but, in retirement, not much clout.”

“Did he close any parishes or schools in Cincinnati?”

Koesler smiled. “you’re really building a case on these closings, aren’t you? I’ve got to admit, the theme does seem to emerge, though I don’t think I would have thought of it. But, no, as far as I know, he didn’t. Of course, the situation probably is nowhere near the same in Cincinnati as in Detroit.”

“How about now? What do you think he would have advised the Cardinal?”

“Again, I don’t know. But I guess we’re dealing in speculation here. Only Larry Hoffer is on the record firmly in favor of the closings. I think-and I’m basing this on all that I’ve read and heard about Archbishop Foley-that left to his own devices, he would have tried to avoid closing any parishes or schools by executive order.”

“Executive order?”

“I think it unavoidable that some schools, some parishes, particularly in large and basically poor urban areas, will close by attrition, if nothing else. I don’t think any bishop can prevent that no matter how he feels about it. But I doubt that Bishop Foley himself would have issued an order, in effect euthanizing these institutions. However, what he might have suggested to the Cardinal could be another matter.”