William Kienzle - Marked for Murder - The Father Koesler Mysteries:

“Is it because the first woman was your snitch and you thought there was a link? That that might be the reason she was killed?”

“Partly, I guess. That’s definitely what got me into this thing on a personal basis. Yeah, I guess that’s part of it.

“But then the fact that this guy was either a preacher or pretending to be one really reached me. It’s like when you find a bad cop. Who you gonna turn to when it’s a cop who’s muggin’ or rapin’ you? A preacher or a priest is the same thing. Your instinct is to trust a preacher man. The ladies who went with Kramer were confident—in a line of work where there can be little confidence, where there is plenty of danger. He tricked them. He lulled them. Then he killed them. And then, as if that wasn’t enough, he gutted them and branded them like cows.

“He really reached me. I’m gonna follow him right through circuit court, right up to the goddam Supreme Court, if it goes that far. I want to nail that guy.”

Alice sensed the cold chill of Tully’s anger.

“Will it hurt . . . I mean, will it weaken the case that the branding iron hasn’t been found?”

“Who knows? No telling what a judge or jury will do. We got enough evidence without the damn iron. But once it gets to court . . . who knows?”

“Still looking for it?”

“Promise you won’t tell?

“What?”

“If Walt knew how many people I got lookin’ for that iron, he’d piss kielbasa. Fortunately, in the past few days we’ve had a bunch of platter cases . . . just paperwork, no puzzles. So we’ve been able to fudge a bit and keep lookin’ for the iron. Took the car to pieces and put it back together again. And the hell of it is, it might still be in there. There are so many places to hide a couple of real thin metallic rods in a car. The guys combed it, but—nothin’.”

“Maybe it just isn’t in there.”

“Always a possibility. That’s why I got every spare on the squad goin’ through the rectory and the church. But you know, in the church basement Kramer’s got a workroom with everything you’d need to make an iron like that. Oh, it’s somewhere, all right. But where? I’d sure as hell like to turn it up before the trial. Like I said, we don’t need it. But it sure would help to have it. The final nail in the coffin.”

“Do you have to put it just that way?”

“Tender? Don’t tell me you can’t believe a priest would do this.”

“Well, I’d prefer to think a priest didn’t do it. But if it’s believing in Father Kramer or you, you know whose team I’m on.”

“That’s better.”

Tully backed the Pontiac into the side drive so, should the necessity arise, he could get out in a hurry.

Before leaving the house, he had turned the thermostat down. The first thing he did on reentering was to readjust it upward to sixty-eight degrees. “God, this has been a cold day! First the ice rink, now the house.”

Alice came up from behind and threw her arms about his waist. “I’ll warm things up for you, lover. Besides, for being such a good sport today, you deserve a good long back rub.”

“I’d hate to tell you what part of my back needs the rub.”

“I know. I watched you fall on it this afternoon.”

The phone rang.

As Tully reached for the receiver, he said, “If this call’s for me, I got a hunch I’m gonna need a rain check on the back rub . . . dammit.” He had made it crystal-clear to his squad that when he was off duty he was to be contacted only for puzzles, not for platters.

“Zoo? Mangiapane.”

“Uh-huh.” Tully had recognized his voice.

“Zoo, all hell broke loose this afternoon.”

Tully said nothing. Someplace down the line he would have to program Mangiapane to get right to the point.

The silence told Mangiapane there would be no response. So he proceeded. “He did it again, Zoo. Kramer.”

“What?”

“Kramer did it again. This afternoon. Just like the other ones.”

“That’s impossible. Kramer’s locked up.”

“No he ain’t, Zoo. Somebody went bail for him yesterday.”

“Jesus! I didn’t know.”

“You weren’t here yesterday.”

“Who put up the cash?”

“Guy named Murphy ... the one with the Cadillac dealership.”

“I know who Murphy is. Now, take it slow, from the top”

“Okay, Zoo. Dom Salvia took the call about six this evening. Some broad calling in a homicide. Friend of hers. Part of their routine is they check on each other. They’re both hookers, Zoo. So when she checks she finds the other hooker dead in a bathtub.”

“Witnesses?”

“We haven’t found any yet. We’re still canvassing the neighborhood.”

“How’d you make Kramer?”

“Same M.O., Zoo. Exactly the same.”

“Everything?”

“Strangled, gutted, and branded.”

“Same brand?”

“Looks like it.”

Damn! thought Tully. Where the hell does he keep the goddam thing? “Who’s the victim?”

“This you ain’t gonna believe. One Mae Dixon.”

“Mae Dixon.” Pause. “Isn’t . . . isn’t that the broad from last Sunday?”

“That’s the one, Zoo. The same broad and the same place where we found Kramer last week.”

“Son . . . of . . . a . . . bitch,” Tully breathed with fervor. “What chutzpah! Same broad, same place. Well, that ties it. Let’s go get him.”

“Already have, Zoo. He’s right back where he was yesterday. We got the judge to revoke bail.”

“Good, good. Good! This time you got the goddam branding iron?”

“Negative, Zoo. We couldn’t find it. And, just like last week, when we read him his rights and told him he could remain silent, damned if he didn’t go that route again. He hasn’t said a word, let alone tell us where the iron is.”

“Then start over. Get the techs to go over the car again. Maybe this time he left it in there.”

“Right, Zoo.”

“I’ll be right down.” Tully hung up and turned to Alice.

“I could tell from your end of the conversation. Kramer did it again?”

“Uh-huh.”

“How come you didn’t know he got out on bail?”

“I probably would’ve heard about it if I’d been in yesterday or today. Too bad. I sure as hell would’ve put a tail on him. We’d have got him bare-naked. But that’s okay; we got him now.” Tully was struggling into his overcoat.

“You’re going down to headquarters?”

“Uh-huh.”

“From the look on your face, you’re going to enjoy this as much as you would’ve liked the back rub.”

“Apples and oranges, honey. But this ain’t gonna take all night. I’ll be back in a while. Maybe I’ll still have a chance to cash in that rain check.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

“We got him, Al.” Tully opened the front door and paused a moment before leaving. “Iron or no iron, this is the final nail in the coffin.”

He fairly levitated as he left the house.

33

Father Koesler could not help feeling uncomfortable. He was not the type to impose on anyone. Yet here he was waiting to see Inspector Koznicki on a busy Monday morning.

Koesler would not have dreamed of calling for an appointment had it not been for last night’s jolting news. For the third Sunday this month, the top story on radio and television had been the brutal murder of a Detroit prostitute. And for the second consecutive Sunday, Father Richard Kramer was accused of the crime.

Koesler had reached Koznicki rather late last night. The inspector had been his usual courtly self and graciously agreed to meet with Koesler at headquarters at ten o’clock the next morning.

After setting up the appointment with Koznicki, Koesler had phoned Sister Therese. As he had anticipated, she was devastated. She had seen Kramer only briefly after his release on bond. She had wanted him to go into seclusion somewhere to regain his energy and to avoid any further notoriety.