“But now your husband was headed for prison. And your life was on the brink of being shattered to smithereens. Much, if not all, the money you could have inherited would be spent on lawyers, trials, and appeals. Everything you controlled would be out of control. Your social standing would be a matter for ridicule. Your plans would have been frustrated.
“There was only one avenue open to you, as far as you could see. You carried through on what had been begun that Monday morning. You gave your husband a massive overdose of morphine. To further confuse the issue, you got your children and Bill Gray over and offered them the empty bottle so their fingerprints would be there along with yours and your husband’s.
“It is ironic to think that the only way you and your husband could have hatched this plan in the beginning was that he was Jewish. That way he would escape embalming. As long as the coma operated as it was programmed, you were home free. So you used your knowledge of the secret in a negative way. Even though you knew he was really Catholic, you let him go through the funeral process as a Jew.”
Koesler waited, but nothing broke the silence.
Finally, he spoke again. “I know your public reaction to this would be that it is all an imaginative fable, and that I have no evidence to support it. As long as your husband had, in effect, that suicide note in his statement to Dr. Fox that he didn’t want to live with such pain, and as long as no one can deny that he was capable of giving himself the overdose, this case will remain closed.
“What he did to Claire McNern cannot be proven by hard evidence. That he destroyed in the hospital. Nothing he did to the others was an actual crime. Cruel and inhuman-along with a number of other moral pejoratives it might be … but technically not a crime.” Koesler didn’t mention Green’s pandering for his underage daughter as well as blackmailing Jake, both definitely crimes, but events which the victims themselves would have preferred not be made public. “The only remaining crime in this whole tragedy-aside of his conspiracy to kill that poor young couple-is his own murder. But the official and final statement on that is that he died of undetermined causes.
“The rest is between you and your conscience.”
Margie smoothed her skirt, inhaled deeply, and sighed. “That’s right. He died of undetermined causes. If he had been killed, his executioner should have been given a medal. He was a homicidal maniac.”
As she spoke, she took from her purse a piece of paper, a pen, and a cigarette lighter. She held the lighter in her left hand as she wrote a few words on the paper, then held it over to him so that he could read it. It read, “Outside of a couple of minor details, you’re absolutely correct.” Before he could comment, she flicked the lighter and set the note on fire, then dropped the burning paper into a wastebasket. As the note became ashes, he stared at her in wonderment.
“Just in case you’re wearing a recording device.” She stood and, her bearing regal, walked out of the room.
Father Koesler remained seated.
After a few moments, a staff member came in to open the panels that separated this viewing room from the next. Apparently they had been waiting for the priest to finish consoling the widow. Now they must ready the parlor to host a larger group of mourners.
Koesler looked into the adjoining room that had been closed off during the Green obsequies. On the wall was a crucifix. There had been no sign of any religious artifact in the Green parlor. If anything, the funeral home would have hung a Star of David … but no one had requested it.
No one seemed about to ask the priest to leave. So Koesler sat and thought and prayed and wondered.
Margie Green. Seldom had Koesler met a person, let alone a woman, so in control of her life. Early on, she’d recognized the ambitions of Jake Cameron. So, she became “his woman.”
However, when Moses Green came along, she saw greater potential. So she married him. But, to set the tone for their life together, she insisted on his going to the considerable trouble of obtaining a nullity decree for his previous marriage, as well as the promise to raise their children Catholic.
Judging by the rest of her life, Margie could not have been terribly concerned about either provision. But it got the marriage off on the right foot, as far as Margie was concerned.
Within the framework of bargaining-which formed the M.O. of the marriage-everything ran as Margie wished. Until, that is, Moses slipped her control and went too far in controlling others’ lives. The final and fatal move was the stupid contract on the lives of Stan and Claire.
Even with her Catholic background, Koesler believed Margie really thought she had done the right thing in killing her husband. To have everything back in her control was worth much more to her than the medal she’d mentioned as an award to whoever killed him-which award was not going to be bestowed in any case.
As for the future, Koesler was sure Margie would get all pertinent affairs back on track. On top of all that, she was now a very wealthy widow.
Then there was Moses Green.
Koesler contemplated the urn containing the ashes of the late doctor. The urn was in the direct line of the crucifix mounted on the wall in the next room.
Jesus the Jew. Jewish to the marrow of His bone. Founder of Christianity.
Moses Green. Gentile son of Gentiles. A Jew to nearly everyone. And now, all those people, many of them Catholic, who blamed Green’s sins on his Jewishness would never know that not only was he not Jewish, but he was one of their very own.
There was a lesson there somewhere. But the media would not be interested. A confusion of races would not appeal. We have given the media its daily miracle. Almost literally.
Koesler held dearly the aphorism, When you die, you will be judged by Love.
Which also might mean that no prosecuting attorney would let God sit on a jury.
Koesler wondered if even God-even Love-could forgive Moses Green all the evil he had done, all the manipulation, the backstabbing, the misuse of medicine, the conspiracy to murder-all of it.
One thing was clear: Moses stood a better chance before God than before anyone else.
Koesler was brought back to the present by the mortician’s discreet clearing of his throat. “Excuse me, Father. The next viewing is about to begin. You’re perfectly free to stay. But I didn’t think you’d want to.”
“You’re right. Thanks for breaking up my reverie.” Koesler rose and stretched; he had been sitting too long. “By the way: What’s going to happen with Dr. Green’s ashes?”
“The cremains will be buried in the family plot.”
“Now?”
“Oh, yes. It was the wish of the widow.”
“Will no one be there for the interment?”
“Oh, I don’t think so.”
Koesler paused. “Then I think I’ll go.”
“Fine. You can ride with me if you’d like.”
“Thank you. But I’d rather go alone. I’ve got some praying and thinking to do.”
The mortician almost clicked his heels. “It’ll be at Holy Sepulchre.” He left carrying the urn.
Holy Sepulchre. A Catholic cemetery. That sterling Catholic, Margie Green, had arranged this, too.
Well, if things had gone the way they pointed at his birth, Moses Green would undoubtedly have been buried in a Catholic ceremony. A requiem Mass. Requiem for Moses. It even sounded strange.
Requiem … rest. The word may have described just what Moses needed now. Rest. “Requiem aeternam,” Koesler chanted in his mind, “dona ei, Domine. Et lux perpetua luceat ei.” Eternal rest give to him, Lord. And may perpetual light shine upon him.
Amen.
FB2 document info
Document ID: fbd-9b19a6-3a43-bb48-6784-3a00-490d-2e6670
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 22.01.2013
Created using: calibre 0.9.13, Fiction Book Designer, FictionBook Editor Release 2.6 software
Document authors :
William X. Kienzle
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Requiem for Moses afkm-18 Page 29
