Requiem for Moses (22 page)

Tully looked skeptical.

“For the most part,” Koesler explained, “people, including priests, see a news conference on TV. Most people haven’t been physically present at such a gathering. It’s something they’d like to see firsthand. I guessed that Dave Weber would be one of those. And I was right: He was a little reluctant to come here without the bait of a news conference.

“Needless to say, he’s in much the same situation as I am—he’s being hounded to answer questions, to make statements. And the demands are coming from parishioners, the curious, and, of course, the news media. So he was eager to get out of his pressure cooker of a parish. And, there was the added boon of attending a real-life news conference.”

The creases around Tully’s eyes crinkled. “Just what are you going to do when this guy—Father Weber—gets here and finds out that his collar is the ticket and he can walk right in?”

“I told him to wait for me at the door to the parlor … that I’d escort him in from there. So if I get up in a hurry, it’s because I’ve spotted Dave.”

Tully nodded and quietly chuckled.

“Has your investigation turned up anything?” Koesler asked.

“Moore and Mangiapane have been doing most of the legwork. I’ve been tied up with a couple of other pressing cases. They’ve got some good interviews. Jake Cameron was pretty tight-lipped. Some of his associates weren’t. Seems Cameron’s been screwed by Green lots of times. The latest threat has Cameron losing control of his girlie bars. And that’s the last thing in the world he wants. It could be a solid motive to get Green.”

“But you don’t know yet that there’s even been any crime committed … do you?”

“No. But if we could ever establish that there was an attempt on his life, we’ll be well ahead of the game in having some suspects.”

As Tully spoke, he studied Koesler’s face. Some of the people Mangiapane and Moore had interrogated had spoken freely to the priest. Tully wondered what Koesler’s reaction might be with regard to what the police had learned.

“The daughter,” Tully said, “was in a tight corner, too. Green was furious that she intended to marry an African-American. That much we got from her. From some friends of Cameron we got the reason why Green could threaten the girl. Something about a film featuring her and Cameron. Apparently, Green was warning her that if she went through with this wedding, he would put the kibosh on the couple’s careers by showing this film to the right people. Another strong motive, if it comes to that.”

So far Koesler had exhibited no untoward reaction.

“The son and the wife are caught up in a monkey-in-the-middle game with Green shifting inheritance money from one to the other. That part needs some more work.

“Then there’s that young couple you spoke with. The young man’s only connection to Green seems to be the young woman. They plan to marry. Seems the woman was once Green’s mistress. He dumped her. She’s still plenty bitter and, like sympathy pains, so’s the young man.”

So, Koesler thought, Claire and her young man had not revealed the abortion and hysterectomy. Well, undoubtedly, they felt that was a very private matter.

Tully caught the momentary flicker: Koesler had reacted to something concerning Claire McNern and/or Stan Lacki. Tully said nothing.

“The people you just mentioned are the five people I spoke with at the wake. Your people didn’t talk to any others?” Koesler asked.

“Sure we did. But, somehow, all roads led to those five—”

“Uh-oh: There’s Father Weber—standing in the doorway over there. I’d better go get him.” Koesler rose and hastily made his way toward the door.

Tully checked out the newcomer.

Father Weber wore a black topcoat over a black suit and that miraculous admission ticket, the roman collar. Tully estimated him to be in his fifties or sixties. His hair was turning from gray to white. He was in bad, almost desperate, need of aid. A wife might have helped—if she was fastidious.

Weber’s topcoat was the real-life clerical equivalent to that of Columbo, the fictional TV detective. It was beyond repair. It would have been a mercy to throw it away or burn it; giving it to some charitable organization would be an insult to the needy.

As Weber shed his coat, Tully could see that the priest’s black suit was hardly in better condition. It was baggy, badly wrinkled, and the nearer Weber came, the more evident its spots became.

Even his collar … Hitherto Tully would not have thought it possible for a mere collar to be in such sad shape. After all, it was only a small white plastic tab that was inserted in a black clerical shirt. Perhaps in an inadvertent moment, Weber had laid the collar on a chair and someone had sat on it.

In all, if Koesler had not identified and escorted Father Weber into this parlor, Tully might have suspected some bum was masquerading as a priest.

Despite Father Weber’s ludicrous appearance, Tully knew that this was an important moment. The fact that the policeman in no way believed in miracles did not mean that miracles couldn’t happen. History provided innumerable instances of this sort of thing.

People as a whole had not believed the world was round. People as a whole had not believed the sun, rather than the earth, was the center of our galaxy. Surgeons as a whole hadn’t thought it necessary to operate with clean hands.

The point being that it did not matter that people as a whole believed or disbelieved these things. They were facts. And nothing could change that.

So, as it happened, Tully did not believe in miracles. That did not mean that miracles couldn’t happen. And Tully knew it.

It also had been made crystal clear that the Catholic Church was only slightly less reluctant than he to accept any phenomenon as a miracle. The bottom line: If the Church were to accept the apparent cure of this crippled woman as a miracle, it would then more likely take the Green event more seriously—maybe even accept as miraculous the doctor’s “resurrection.”

And there is no crime in a miracle. And Tully knew that, too.

Then again, like the people who didn’t believe the world was round, who didn’t believe in heliocentricity, who didn’t believe in antisepsis, Tully, in dismissing miracles out of hand, could be wrong.

Yes, Tully wanted to hear this Father Weber out.

“It all began in 1989,” Father Weber said …

THE PAST

Walter Zabola and Miriam Waleski were married in St. Hedwig’s Church the first Saturday in June, 1989. Unlike times past, the priest who witnessed their wedding was more likely to—and, in fact, did—know both bride and groom quite well. Ecclesial preparation for marriage had become more structured.

A rule had been made that those engaged to be married must participate in premarriage preparation for six months prior to the ceremony—the object being to forestall divorces among those married in the Catholic Church. Statistics held that divorces among Catholics were in about the same percentage as those in non-Catholic marriages. Thus observance of this preparatory period was fairly rigorously enforced.

Prior to this requirement, it was by no means unheard-of that the priest, official witness of the Church to this marriage, met bride and groom at the altar for the first time as they exchanged their consent.

All went well for the new Mr. and Mrs. Zabola on that June Saturday. The weather was perfect. The ceremony flowed flawlessly. The congregation applauded Walter and Miriam at the conclusion of the Mass. Neither the young ring bearer nor the young flower girl balked or cried. Everyone smiled happily for the many photographs. The reception at the Leroy Knights of Columbus hall went without a hitch. Walter and Miriam feared the fly in the ointment would be the open bar. But only a handful of guests were obviously drunk. And none of them was driving.

There was one problem. But neither Wally nor Miriam thought it would cause any long-term consequences. They were wrong—very wrong.

Olga Waleski, Miriam’s mother, had been in an auto accident almost two years before. Since then she had been confined to a wheelchair. Ted Waleski, Olga’s husband, and father to Miriam and Theresa, managed to take care of his wife reasonably well. He was foreman in a Chrysler plant. He and Olga had worked out a routine that enabled him to take care of things and to help her when he was home. She learned to care for herself when he was at work. Miriam and Theresa wove their way through this situation satisfactorily.

When Miriam and Wally decided to marry, the family rehearsed their new routine, a slight adjustment to the old routine. Miriam’s contributions to the daily chores were divided among the remaining three.

The day of the wedding saw the first stages of a gathering destructive emotional storm. Theresa, the maid of honor, found it difficult to stop crying. She barely weathered the wedding. For the rest of the day she remained mainly within herself. Occasionally, one or another of the guests attempted to console her. None was successful. Even her only sister, Miriam, failed.

But everyone else was having so good a time, Theresa was, by and large, ignored.

Immediately after the reception, the happy couple headed for the Isle of Palms, a barrier island off the coast of South Carolina. Friends who owned a condo a block from the ocean insisted that the newlyweds use the impressive trilevel home for their honeymoon.

It proved idyllic. They had their choice of a swimming pool just across the way or the ocean within easy walking distance. They would have golfed but they couldn’t afford the greens fees. Instead, from their balcony porch, they enjoyed a steady stream of golfers putting on the eleventh green. They laughed when golfer after golfer neglected to putt out, but picked up gimmes from all over the green.

They found a Catholic church on the island for Sunday Mass, as well as several excellent restaurants that were not unduly pricey. But usually they ate in. Miriam was an excellent cook, and she wanted to prove it to Walter over and over again.

That pretty well described their sexual adventures during their Isle of Palms stay: over and over again. Fortunately, the natural family planning method indicated this to be Miriam’s infertile period. In addition, they used spermicide and condoms. They wanted to be absolutely sure the children they would have would not be the result of an accident. During their six months of indoctrination, they had not brought up the morality of birth control, and neither had the priest. Which made things easier for everyone.

Nothing disturbed their two weeks in paradise. But that was due to the forbearance of Miriam’s parents and some of the newlyweds’ friends who knew what was going on.

Two days after Walter and Miriam left for the Isle of Palms, Theresa complained of tingling sensations in her arms and legs. The family doctor was baffled. He had her admitted to the hospital, where a procession of specialists poked and prodded, took X-rays and did scans. None of them could find any clear-cut physical cause as Theresa grew more and more feeble.

The only conclusion the experts agreed upon was that nothing could be done in the hospital for Theresa that could not be achieved in home care. So they sent her home, where she joined her mother in needing a wheelchair and assisted living.

It did not take Ted more than a few days to know that an impossible situation had developed. Having two women in wheelchairs was too great a burden for him to bear and still take care of his job. Olga concluded that she was utterly unable to care for herself and Theresa and still carry out those activities she was able to do to assist her husband.

Somebody else, or some institution, was needed for Theresa.

Institutional care—good institutional care—was well beyond their means. It had to be a person. And everyone seemed to know instinctively who that person would have to be. But nobody wanted to spoil the honeymoon.

However, once Wally and Miriam returned, they were informed of Theresa’s condition. Miriam’s father took her aside and explained in great detail what had been tried to help Theresa, and the failure of every such attempt. Theresa was, in effect, more or less a paraplegic with no known cause. Barring some medical breakthrough—or a miracle—Theresa would have to be assisted in practically all her functions. And no one was available to do that but her sister.

Miriam was devastated. She knew her parents couldn’t do it. There wasn’t the needed money for really good care. And no one could bear Theresa’s being swept out of sight to be subjected to mediocre—or worse—treatment. With great reluctance, Miriam agreed to be the caregiver.

That decision necessarily involved Wally. The task of informing her husband was Miriam’s.

She waited until after dinner on the day of decision. As simply and compassionately as possible she presented Wally with the options. She let him mull them over. Though he knew all the while what the decision would be, he needed time to deny the inevitable.

“Do you have any idea of what this is going to do to our life—our life together?” He slammed his napkin on the table, and stood at the sink with his back toward her.

Miriam was close to tears. “We don’t know that, Wally. It’ll demand sacrifice. But I’ll be the one taking care of Theresa. I’ll try to make sure you don’t get involved.”

“How’re you going to do that?” He would not turn and face her. “You work too, you know. When we decided to be married, we figured both our paychecks would give us the kind of life we wanted—give us some security for the future.”

“We can still have that. Please turn around, Wally. I can’t talk to your back.”

He turned, but refused to look at her. It was not his intention, but he was making this terribly hard on Miriam.

“Look what my father does for my mother … and he holds down a job.”

“He’s a man!”

“I can do it. I’m strong.”

“Turn the tables. Suppose it was your father who was sick. Do you think your mother could do it—hold down an outside job and take care of your father too?”

“Yes. I know she could. I know I could.”

He began pacing through the kitchen. “All right, all right; I’m the one who couldn’t do it. I couldn’t see you taking care of Theresa every day and holding down a full-time job without helping you. I would have to help you.”