“You know that Bishop Ramon Diego is dead … that he was murdered.”
Shell nodded slowly. No “Shocking,” “Sorry,” “That’s too bad,” “That’s good,” or “I did it.”
“Yesterday afternoon,” Tully proceeded, “at a gathering at Mr. Harry Carson’s home, you had words-angry words-with the bishop.”
“That’s right.” Useless to deny it; there were a couple dozen witnesses.
“What was that all about? We know Mr. Carson was with you during the entire exchange,” Tully added, “but we want to get it from you.”
Shell took another bite of the candy bar. “It was about my wife.”
“Your wife?”
“My wife and the bishop.”
“Your wife and …” This did not fit into Tully’s scenario.
“It’s complicated,” Shell admitted.
“Let’s try to simplify it,” Tully said. “Your wife. She’s your first wife?”
“Second.”
Fewer than expected.
“Here’s her picture …” Shell took a framed portrait from his desk and passed it to Mangiapane, who glanced at it and passed it to Tully.
Well, I never claimed to be infallible, thought Tully. She was a good-looking woman. But a beautiful dark-haired matron rather than the vapid blonde toy he had envisioned. “A recent photo?”
“Couple of years.”
“So, what about the bishop and your wife?”
“It started just after he got here from Texas. When was that … maybe a year ago. See, her maiden name is Ortiz … Maria Ortiz. She’s fluent in both English and Spanish. She’s quite active in Hispanic affairs-fund-raisers and like that. So, she was excited when he got here and became bishop … you know, God’s gift to the Latinos.” He grimaced. “Some gift!”
“What’s that mean?”
“She-Maria-introduced him to her friends-society, club women mostly. And that’s where he began to spend most of his time: bashes, soirees, tennis, golf. Oh, not always with the women; he’d pal up with the men too. But the men spent most of their days at work. So the bishop would be the fourth for tennis or cards. Offer the invocation at parties, then stick around for a few hours.”
A cynical grin appeared briefly. “Times when he would spend most of the day in high society must have been a relief for that poor schmuck priest … Carleson. At least the poor bastard didn’t have to play chauffeur those days.” It was a parenthetical remark.
“We were on thin ice then, Maria and me … have been for the last few years.”
“What’s the trouble?”
Shell hesitated. “You’d find out soon enough, I guess. It’s common knowledge in our group … and with the gossip columnists. She claims I spend too much time at work … neglect her for the business.”
For the first time, Tully could empathize. He himself had lost a wife, kids, and later a significant other for just that reason.
“We went to a counselor-Maria’s idea-but what could he do? Damned-if-I-do and damned-if-I-don’t. She wants the good life, I gotta earn it. I cut back at work, she loses the life-style.
“Well, anyway, the whole thing settled into a routine. We’d go out occasionally on Saturday nights, once in a while Fridays. And every now and then we’d go to one of those fund-raisers. I mean, our social life was not a complete bust. But to do all this and live the kind of life we’ve got means I put in twelve- to fifteen-hour days.
“Not that I mind. I like it. In fact, I love my life just the way it is. But … she can’t see it that way.” He thought for a moment. “And I’m sorry about that. I’d like her to be happier with our life the way it is. Because-bottom line-this is the way it has to be.
“But, like I said, she doesn’t see it that way. And I know most of the time, she’s just been going through the motions.” He leaned forward and in a man-to-man tone, said, “That’s the way our sex is. It’s like making love to a board. And, believe me, that’s not the way it was in the beginning: She was one hot-blooded Latina lover.”
The last thing Tully wanted was to go through the grunts and groans of Shell’s sex life. “You mentioned earlier … the bishop … Bishop Diego and your wife …?”
“Yeah. Well, you needed some background. Like I said, we were already on thin ice when Diego came on the scene.” Shell paused.
“Are you saying that Diego and your wife were having an affair?”
“Well, yes and no.”
“‘Yes and no’? Were they or weren’t they?”
“You got to understand this Diego character.”
“Do you?”
“I think so. He’s upwardly mobile. That I know. What I don’t know is where he wants to go. Pope?”
“Go on.”
“He uses … he used people. And if they became his friends, he recycled them. But he would never-never-do anything to compromise his ambition. It was easy for him to charm the women. He was a handsome son of a bitch.”
Tully nodded. He was growing weary of hearing about Diego’s movie-star looks. “What’s understanding Diego got to do with whether or not he was having an affair with your wife?”
“Like I said, it’s complicated and it’s not easy trying to make it simple.
“Let’s do it this way: Suppose I answer your question: No, they didn’t have an affair.” His jaw tightened. “Jeez, I even had them followed. They met, okay. For one thing, she was always in the group that attached themselves to him. On top of that, they met, just the two of them, from time to time. But they never did anything. They never went to a motel. They never went to our house together. They’d maybe go on a picnic or something like that.
“And it wasn’t that they didn’t care for each other. My P.I. reported that he never saw a couple so infatuated with each other. But they didn’t do anything.
“At this point, you’d guess that not getting physical was my wife’s idea. It’s always the little women, eh? But it wasn’t. He’s the one who kept it innocent. And why? Because he’s upwardly mobile. He’s going places. And he’s not going to get to be Cardinal or Pope by having a physical affair with some good-looking Spanish broad.”
“You know this for sure?” Tully asked. “That staying out of the sack was his idea?”
Shell extended his arms, palms up, as if to say, what other explanation makes sense. “Fits his profile.”
“So,” Tully concluded, “the simple answer to my question is no.”
“Not exactly.”
“What?”
“It wasn’t a physical affair. I’m convinced they never had intercourse … not even close. But they had-a what? — a spiritual affair.”
“Huh?”
Shell unwrapped a second candy bar and bit into it. “I can’t explain it. I’ve never seen anything like it. The guy could have had her, easy. She was bananas for him. He could have, but he didn’t.
“The way I see it, he just wouldn’t compromise his future. Must have taken a lot not to accept what he was freely offered. I’ll give the bastard that. But then, see, she changed. It was something like that character in Man of La Mancha-you know, Dulcinea. She’s a scullery maid and a whore. But the crazy Don Quixote keeps calling her ‘My Lady’ until she changes completely and starts acting like a highborn lady.
“Not that Maria was a whore, you know. But what I mean, she changed. Oh, she was willing to throw herself at him. But he’s Don Quixote. He’s going to teach her how to love ‘pure and chaste from afar.’ Okay, so she becomes Dulcinea … and I lost my Maria.”
“You mean-”
“I told you our relationship was on thin ice. Sex for me was like making love to a board. Well, Maria took the board away and left me nothing. Nothing”
No one spoke.
“As far as I know,” Shell said finally, “I’m the only guy in history to have been cuckolded by a couple of practicing virgins.”
Mangiapane barely suppressed a burst of laughter. Tully, with some effort, kept a straight face.
Shell, who was quite serious, continued. “Now, what the hell could I do about it? How could I say Diego was guilty of alienation of affection? He didn’t do anything except mesmerize her. She didn’t do anything but fall under his spell. The upshot of the whole thing was I lost my wife. I lost her to a goddam bishop. And there wasn’t a goddam thing I could do about it.