“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.”
“Why’s that?” Tully’s spirits took hope. Until this final caveat, he had visions of his new theory going down in flames as Koesler supposed that Foley would not advocate the closings. Now the priest seemed to be speculating on what me opposite side of me coin might be.
“Of the two choices-to close or not to close-the easier way to go is closure. As Larry Hoffer would argue, it makes perfect sense financially. In a society that practically lives by ‘the bottom line,’ no other persuasion is necessary; most everybody would agree there’s no sensible alternative.
“In this context, some might object to closing institutions that are still able to survive, even if marginally. But few would insist on keeping the destitute alive. It would be like keeping a brain dead patient in a vegetative state on a heart-lung machine.
“So you see, Lieutenant: Struggling to keep these schools and parishes going when they are beyond self-help would be unpopular as well as a losing battle. That’s why I think it possible mat, even though Archbishop Foley might choose martyrdom for himself, I don’t think that his close friendship with me Cardinal would permit his advising this painful and frustrating course.
“Now, that’s only a guess. But it’s my best shot.”
“It’s a help. It’s a help.” Tully proceeded to gamer his notes and pack away the tape recorder he’d had running. “Now, I’ll have to see whether Carson or Stapleton is a better fit.”
“Better fit?”
“Uh-huh. Which one of them would find the threat of closing schools and parishes a sufficient motive to commit murder.”
“Do you really think anyone would find something like that a sufficient motive?”
Tully shrugged. “You tell me. Remember the guy in Florida last year who was a member of a church’s building committee and got so upset at proposed renovations that he wounded two people, took a hostage for several hours, and ended up killing himself? And”-his eyes twinkled-“he wasn’t even one of your Catholic zealots; as I recall, he was an Episcopalian.” He grew serious again. “You gotta remember, Father, we’re probably dealing with a psychopath here. It takes a crazy of some sort to get into serial killing. Something that might get a normal person upset enough to write an angry letter to the editor is the kind of stuff that gets mass murderers going.”
“Well, if you put it that way, which one seems more likely to you?”
“From everything you’ve told me about the tensions in the Church … I guess I’d put my money on Carson. He’s the one who wants to go back to a time before all the changes. Well, that’s the time when Catholic parishes and schools were going gang-busters. I don’t see Stapleton in the same frame of mind. But you never can tell. We’ll look both of ’em over good in terms of what we’ve just discussed.”
“There’s one thing,” Koesler said, as he retrieved Tully’s coat from the closet, “whoever has done this knows the victims’ routines exceptionally well. He’d have to know that Sister Joan regularly comes home late and that both Larry and the archbishop walk their dogs at about eleven at night.”
“A bit of dedicated surveillance would disclose that. Neither one of them, by the way, has an alibi for the times of the crimes. Carson lives alone and claims he was home at the times in question. There’s no one to say he was or wasn’t. Stapleton claims he was en route to a meeting or returning home or at a movie, by himself, at the crucial times. Again, no one to corroborate.
“We even brought in the two dogs to get their reactions, Hoffer’s mutt just sniffed each of them and sat down. Foley’s dog went wild over both of them. So: nothing.”
“If you brought in the dogs, Carson and Stapleton must know they’re under suspicion.”
Tully snorted. “They know okay. They’ve known for a while now. It’s a very delicate balance,” he explained. “Something like that series on TV-what is it-the cop with the antique raincoat …?” He tapped his forehead trying to recall the character’s name.
“Columbo?” Koesler supplied.
“That’s the one. You know how he keeps coming back, driving the perp crazy? Well, this is something like that: These guys get angry when we keep coming back at ’em over and over again. Especially Carson;he’s the type who yells ‘police brutality’ when a cop helps a little old lady across the street.
“The thing we don’t want to do is get them so shook up that they call in their lawyers. We don’t need that kind of headache. It’s a very delicate balance.
“But I should tell you: These two guys are not our only suspects. They’re just the leading candidates. Now we’ll be looking through all the others for that thread we found this afternoon. There’s someone but there who gets so worked up about closing Church facilities he’s flipped. We’ll get him,” Tully promised as he stepped out into a cloudy but dry winter’s day.
As he watched Tully hunch his shoulders against the cold, Koesler offered a brief prayer that the police would, indeed, get the person who was doing this before anyone else was harmed. Too many innocent people had been killed already. Please God, inspire the police, and there would be no more.