William Kienzle - Masquerade

Then, her first evening at the college, she had received an enigmatic note from the Reverend David Benbow. From the tone of the note rather than its literal content, she recognized that, for some reason he did not disclose, he was in the same predicament as she. She accepted his invitation to meet, which they did the following night-at about the time of Rabbi Winer’s death.

As Benbow had no intention of revealing what it was Krieg held over him as blackmail, he made no attempt to discover Marie’s secret. They operated only with the tacit understanding that both were in a career-threatening bind and that Krieg held the whip hand that promised to devastate their lives.

Cautiously at first, then boldly, Benbow suggested a plan at once subtle yet promising. It was a scheme born of the desperate corner into which they’d been forced by Krieg. It was clear as they plotted together that neither felt comfortable with what Benbow proposed. Yet neither could conceive of an alternative solution.

It was agreed that Benbow’s plan would require at least two people to carry it out. Actually, it would have been more practical if more had been involved. At that point, Benbow admitted that he had sent invitations identical to Marie’s to Rabbi Winer and the monk. They had obviously chosen not to accept Benbow’s invitation, either because they were not threatened by Krieg as were David and Marie, or-and this seemed more likely to Benbow-they were in the same boat but, for their own reasons, simply preferred not to meet.

Finally, David and Marie agreed they must and would act. They would use Benbow’s carefully constructed plan. They would act when Benbow gave the agreed-upon signal.

The only remaining question was when to put their plan into motion. And that question was crucial.

After considerable discussion, they agreed that the wisest course would be to defer action as long as possible, rather than seizing the present moment. For one thing, they had no way of knowing Krieg’s timetable. At some point during the workshop’s five days Krieg would undoubtedly drop the other shoe, as it were, and impose his ultimatum. Timing, then, was of the essence. They had to act before Krieg, and forestall his exposing them.

Yet it was perfectly possible that either or both Winer and Augustine had a plan to thwart Krieg. Since neither Benbow nor Marie wanted to resort to violence-radical fear alone allowed them to even contemplate it-there was the possibility that Winer and/or Augustine might make it unnecessary for them to put their plan into action by striking first.

The point then, as Benbow explained to Marie, was to allow just enough time for one or both of the others to take care of Krieg. Failing that, David and Marie must act.

It was their final agreement, then, that the crucial factor of timing would be left in Benbow’s hands. He would give the signal if it were needed. And then they would put a stop to Klaus Krieg.

Talk about God’s will! Praise God!

Was it something in his genes, his training, his nature? What was it that so regularly prompted Koesler to agree to requests, often without proper reflection? He wondered.

From considerable experience, he knew that it was akin to academic suicide to walk into any classroom as a teacher without having done his homework. Yet, when Sister Marie asked him to take her class, he had agreed. She had tossed off the subject as something in which he had more than adequate experience. After all, he had had an unusual amount of contact with the police. How many priests had been involved in actual homicide investigations? Thus, according to Sister Marie, all he had to do was walk into a classroom cold, and field eager and reasonable questions on the subject. So, despite his experience, he had agreed to her request. And he had paid for it.

Though it was a lovely, cool morning, Koesler was perspiring beneath his black clerical suit and Roman collar.

One does not just walk into a classroom relying on some miraculous dabitur vobis. He realized that the moment he walked in and confronted the eager faces. One does not begin a class by inviting questions. Questions follow a presentation-sometimes. They certainly do not precede a presentation. Somehow he had managed to carry it off this morning-at least he hoped he had. But he had paid the price in emotional investment. No blood or tears, but there had been plenty of sweat.

As he hurriedly exited the classroom, he almost literally ran into Sergeant Angela Moore, who’d been scurrying down the corridor. He apologized.

“That’s okay, Father. This’ll save time in trying to find you. They’ll want you there for this.” She managed to sweep him along with her.

“They’ll want me?” Koesler fell in step with her. “Some new information?”

“Uh-huh.” She said no more, but led the way to the modest dining room that had become a makeshift headquarters for the police.

Koznicki and Tully were standing near the center of the room. Various other officers were occupied in other parts of the room.

Tully took one look at Moore’s face. “You found it, didn’t you?”

“Uh-huh.” Koesler now noticed Moore’s flushed excitement. “Yeah,” she said. “This has got to be what Krieg found and the nun didn’t want to get out.”

Koesler fought a sudden urge to leave. He felt as if he were eavesdropping. He had developed a liking and respect for Sister Marie. And Sergeant Moore was about to reveal the secret Marie so desperately wanted kept hidden. Hers was, after all, the one remaining confidential matter to be exposed. But he knew that Inspector Koznicki wanted him there. Koesler steeled himself to hear the worst.

“It was an abortion,” Moore said, rather more forcefully than necessary.

“An abortion!” Koesler’s involuntary reaction was so unexpected that it startled the others. However, their surprise was momentary.

“When’d it happen?” Tully asked.

“She was a senior in high school.”

“A senior in high school!” Ordinarily Koesler would be listening to the experts and contributing nothing at this point. But he felt that someone should be standing up for this good woman. “High school!” he repeated. “That must be. . some thirty years ago!”

“That’s about right.” Moore turned slightly to face Koesler. He had entered this matter actively and neither of her superior officers was curbing him in any way. So she felt free to address his concern.

“How. . how could you uncover such a thing? I mean. . thirty years!” Koesler said.

“A fluke, mostly,” Moore admitted. “Although we might have uncovered it ourselves, given time. But, I don’t know. .” She seemed to drift off in speculation.

“How did you uncover it?” Koznicki brought her back to the present.

“Oh, Stewart found it,” Moore said.

“Stewart?”

“Uh, Patrolman Stewart, Judith.” Moore located the officer’ name on the report she was holding. “She’s a rookie. Hasn’t got anything to do with this investigation. She’s stationed in the First Precinct. She was reading about our case and she thought the name sounded familiar. Marie Monahan. So, she thought about it until the bell rang. She thought she’d seen the name in one of the old abortion files.”

“Isn’t that a bit contrived, Sergeant?” Koesler broke in. He was surprising himself that he was so actively responding to this charge against Sister Marie’s reputation. He couldn’t help himself. It didn’t seem right that a good person’s reputation could be so easily trashed. “Doesn’t the coincidence stretch credibility?”

Moore didn’t know whether to engage this outsider in a pedantic debate when there was the serious business of a homicide investigation going on. She glanced around and caught the affirmative if slight nod given by Inspector Koznicki.