“And then came the remarkable transition. Rabbi Winer challenged you among ourselves, and before the students. Indeed, the rabbi was the only one of this faculty who dared oppose you publicly.
“You know, I’ve always thought one of the strongest proofs for the resurrection of Jesus was the transformation of the Apostles. From the first time we meet them as Jesus calls them to follow Him, the Apostles never come off as particularly admirable or courageous men. And that includes their deserting Jesus when he was crucified. Then, something very definitely happened. Something had to have happened for these ordinary men, who very justly could have been termed cowards, to change so dramatically. One day they are cowering behind locked doors, hiding from their enemies. Then, suddenly, they become fearless. They are transformed, in an instant, into true, brave, and courageous followers of Jesus.
“Something had to have happened. I believe it had to be the resurrection of Jesus-his triumph over death-just as they claimed.
“Well, to a lesser degree, something had to have happened in the life of Irving Winer. One day he meekly comes to this assembly when summoned. The next day he becomes the one and only fearless opponent of Reverend Krieg. Something had to have happened. I believe, Reverend, it was the discovery of your Jewish heritage. He knew. He knew.
“He must have told you on Monday what he had discovered. You probably denied it, but he had the proof.
“You saw that your only hope was in getting rid of the only one who knew your secret. You didn’t have much time but you used it well. He knew your secret and you knew his. It was a Mexican stand-off. You had to find a way of upsetting that balance in your favor.
“And that, Reverend, is why you killed him.”
“Now, wait!”
But Krieg’s voice no longer snapped with a commanding tone.
“After dinner on Sunday,” Koesler continued, “you offered us drinks from your impressive supply. We each selected a liqueur. As the polite host, naturally you chose last. You chose the Frangelico-which happened to be the same bottle Rabbi Winer had selected. Later, you took advantage of that coincidence. Then, when the rabbi was found dead from drinking the poisoned Frangelico, we reached the conclusion you were leading us to.
“And, maybe-now that I think of it-we may just have uncovered another reason why you wanted the police in on this and why you made sure I’d be here and, you hoped, would summon the police.
“As far as Marie, Augustine, and Benbow were concerned, you held all the cards. The possibility that you might have had a secret past likely would never have occurred to any of them. But Rabbi Winer shared your Jewish heritage, at least in part. If any one of your victims might have stumbled upon your secret it surely would have been the Rabbi. You must have had good reason to fear that something-some unconscious habit, some quirk of behavior-might give the Rabbi cause to delve into your background and ferret out the truth you feared might be discovered. And, indeed, it seems he did.
“In such an eventuality, should it occur, you had to have an alternate plan. One that would do away with the Rabbi while making it appear that you had been the real target and that it was your life that had been-and continued to be-threatened. And for this scenario, you, of course, needed the police. And I got them for you.”
At this point Mangiapane hurried back into the room, whispered animatedly with Tully, then left the room again. Mangiapane was perturbed or excited, Koesler couldn’t tell which. In either case, he wanted to conclude his narrative.
“In any case, when Rabbi Winer was found poisoned from drinking the Frangelico you both favored, the conclusion everyone reached was exactly what you wanted: Someone had attempted to kill you by poisoning your liquor. Whoever that someone was, he or she had to get in line. But, by mistake, Rabbi Winer drank the poison intended for you. That had to be the case since quite a few people had motivation to kill you. And no one wanted to kill the rabbi.
“No one but yourself.
“After dinner, everyone left the dining area. Some of us went to a movie, others took a walk or retired to their rooms. The dining room, once it was cleared, would be empty. You invited Rabbi Winer to join you. You probably intimated you’d work everything out with him.
“Maybe you had several options. But the way it worked out you were left undisturbed. You offered him the Frangelico. He drank it and died almost instantaneously. Then you left. You didn’t even have to worry about fingerprints, since your prints as well as Winer’s were already on the bottle that we all saw both of you use earlier.
“You didn’t even have to worry about being seen coming out of the dining room; had you been, all you would have had to do was pretend that you had just found the rabbi’s body and were going for help. But that wasn’t necessary. Your luck held; nobody saw you. Your luck held. .” he repeated, “. . until now.”
Krieg summoned his last ounce of bravado. “Father Koesler, you don’t have a shred of proof for all the false accusations you’ve made. You’ve created a pleasant story without any foundation whatsoever. And besides the fact that you have no proof, if it is not my life that has been threatened throughout this workshop, then how do you explain the latest attempt to kill me just a little while ago when someone tried to arrange it that I would blow myself to kingdom come? Are you going to suggest that I did that to myself? How could I when I was being guarded, protected by a detail of Detroit police officers all morning?”
A triumphant tone crept into Krieg’s voice as he concluded what had to be his ultimate defense.
“That’s true,” Sergeant Moore attested. “We had some of our people with him all morning. Even if he’d wanted to, he couldn’t have dumped that gasoline in his room.”
Tully spoke. “I may have the explanation. A few minutes ago I was pretty sure where you were going with your explanation, Father. So I tried to anticipate you. Krieg could have carried the whole thing off with the exception of the gasoline attempt on his life. But if he’d done the whole thing-and I have to agree with you, he did do it-and the explosive gas was another attempt to convince us someone out there was still after him, then he had to have help.”
“Guido Taliafero,” Koesler almost whispered. He’d forgotten all about Krieg’s “shadow.”
“Uh-huh,” Tully affirmed. “I sent Mangiapane out to find him and start asking him some hard questions. Mangiapane came back to tell me that Taliafero is one scared hombre. He’s startin’ to sing pretty good. And the subject of his song is you, Krieg.”
“Reverend Krieg. .” Koznicki spoke with the solemnity of an Inquisitor General. “I place you under arrest for the murder of Rabbi Irving Winer. Sergeant Moore will now inform you of your rights.”
24
The Koznickis’ home had that special lived-in atmosphere that comes from having and raising a family in it over a great number of years. The rooms seemed to echo with childish voices; the floors seemed to creak and groan under pounding young feet. The voices and the feet belonged to the active children who were now grown and gone and raising their own families.
The den belonged to Walt Koznicki. It was a man’s room. It was a police officer’s room. Citations and trophies vied for space with books and with photos of Koznicki as a beat cop, in various stages of advancement, with notables-Detroiters and visiting firemen. The little remaining space held several heavy chairs and a small desk, leaving barely enough room to navigate.
The weather on this, the second Sunday in September, was dreary. Rain beat down in body-seeking torrents, and the added forecast of thunderstorms made staying inside seem even cozier.
Walt and Wanda Koznicki had invited Father Koesler to dinner, which was over now. Wanda would join them in the den as soon as she had put away the leftovers and loaded the dishwasher. Koznicki and Koesler sat quietly, satisfied and comfortable, watching the steady rain beat against the window.