Body Count fk-14

by William X. Kienzle

  The meal-pot roast, boiled potatoes, vegetables, and salad-was home cooked as usual, delicious if commonplace. Table talk revolved around pedestrian topics: Dunn’s studies, Koesler’s attempts to build his congregation from the neighboring apartments and condos, Koznicki’s departmental budgetary problems, Wanda’s recounting of the triumphs and mishaps of their children.

  After dinner, they continued to sit around the dining table while Wanda served coffee and cake.

  Conversation quite naturally turned to the star-crossed rise and fall of Father Keating.

  “Without a doubt,” Koznicki said, “that must have been the most unusual contract ever offered to anyone in the mob.”

  “I’ll say,” Wanda agreed. “Five thousand dollars just to pretend to go to confession. Many more deals like that and you’ll be busy from sunup to sundown.”

  They chuckled.

  “Yes,” Koesler said, “but in the good old days-which weren’t all that long ago-you’d have thought Catholics were being paid to go to confession. I can remember very well the days before Christmas and Easter-before St. Joseph’s feast if you were in an Italian parish-it was wall-to-wall penitents. And yes, Wanda, from about sunup to sundown.”

  “Now that we’re well past it,” Dunn said, “and we know it was not a real confession-”

  “And,” Koesler interrupted, “we also know that no one else can ever know about that confession.”

  “Yes, yes, of course.” Dunn was a bit tired of being reminded of this. “But something’s been nagging at me all this time: What did you give Guido for a penance? I mean, that wouldn’t be violating anything, any kind of secret, if you told. And outside of this crazy experience, I’ve never had anybody confess murder.”

  Koesler smiled and spread his hands on the table. “What sort of penance can you give? It’s the ultimate crime and well up there in the moral order. We aren’t back in the early centuries of the Church when penances could be lengthy, public, and humiliating-like being obliged to beg for the poor for a number of years. You know that.”

  “Sure,” Dunn said, “but although I could hear him, I couldn’t hear you. So what did you give him?”

  “I’m not stalling. It’s just that I’m a little embarrassed at Guido’s penance.

  “We have to remember,” Koesler said, mostly for the benefit of the Koznickis, who hadn’t had his theological training, “that there is no way we-any of us-can really repay the debt of sin. If we have wronged another-stolen something, say-we can at least try to take responsibility and repay him. But we cannot make up to God what we have done in violating any of His commands. Now, with that in mind, Guido not only confessed murder, he also identified who it was he’d killed.

  “If it had been, for instance, a man with a family, he would have had the responsibility to supply what the family had lost. The income, at very least. But Guido claimed he’d killed a priest. No family; no one dependent on the victim. So I considered that part of his possible debt was nonexistent.

  “But, a sin all sin, we Christians have to fall back on the sacrifice of Christ. That’s why we say Christ died for our sins. The God-man offered His life to His Father for us, for our sins.

  “So whatever penance a priest gives-or assigns-is merely a token. We usually assign a certain number of Our Fathers or Hail Marys, or maybe the Rosary.” The others nodded in understanding.

  “According to Guido, however, he wasn’t familiar with any of the ordinary prayers Catholics routinely know.” Here Koesler almost blushed. “The way it turned out, Guido suggested his own penance- which action is not unique in the annals of the Sacrament of Penance.”

  “What?” The explanation was much more than Dunn needed to know.

  “Guido said he had a record at home of Sinatra singing The Lord’s Prayer. And that he’d go home and listen to that.”

  After a moment of startled silence, they all laughed.

  “If only Frank Sinatra knew!” Wanda said through her laughter.

  “But,” Koesler said, “he never will.”

  “Of course,” Koznicki said, after the laughter died down, “we keep coming back to that little gem that Vespa added.”

  “The part,” Dunn supplied, “about burying Keating with Monsignor Kern. A very active imagination, that Vespa had.”

  “Yes,” Koznicki agreed, “but it was that compulsion to invent colorful details that proved his undoing. The department had given up on the case. Then Monsignor Kern was exhumed. Then things started happening.”

  “Yes,” Koesler said, “apparently, Guido felt the need to let me in on the whole thing. And God knows I was thoroughly confused at that point. I don’t know why he called Lacy DeVere. Maybe it was some misplaced sense of honor; after all, he was about to violate the contract. And that mistake-if we can call it a mistake-proved fatal to Guido … and almost to me.”

  “Whatever,” Koznicki said. “As a result, the Case of the Missing Pastor was reopened.”

  “See! I told you that was a great title!” Dunn exulted.

  “What?” Koznicki was mystified.

  “Nothing,” Koesler assured the inspector. “Part of Father Dunn’s course is mystery solving.

  “And, speaking of solving mysteries,” he added, “I didn’t do too well this time out. All the guideposts were there. But I sure wasn’t interpreting them correctly.”

  “Come now, Father …” Koznicki began.

  “No,” Koesler said resolutely, “one of the keys was Father Keating’s upbringing. He had a comfortable, wealthy background. He was used to living very, very well. Things began to go bad for him-at least as far as he was concerned-when his inheritance turned out to be fairly modest. Now I think his parents were wise to do that. But I also think they should have prepared him for that.

  “Instead, he must have been terribly shocked to receive so comparatively small an inheritance.

  “Then there was the matter of his stock investment that went sour. I think that scarred him. At that point, his future was still not much different than that of the rest of us. Which, I think, is not all that bad. The Church, at least in this diocese, takes pretty adequate care of its retired priests.

  “However, I’m sure Jack didn’t see it that way. And I guess that’s when he decided to take care of his future himself.”

  The inspector rose and refilled the coffee cups. Koesler, not for the first time, was vaguely puzzled that his friends consumed so much coffee. They never did when he played host.

  “Probably,” Koesler continued, “his plot hatched sometime after he was assigned to St. Waldo’s.”

  “And a clever plot it was,” Koznicki said. “Fortunately for him, he had a great deal of money to manipulate. And manipulate it he did. The creation of those shell companies was at the heart of his plan- although the recent parish audit shows that he was also skimming the regular donations.”

  “That at least he might not have been able to get away with some years back when all parochial banking was done with the archdiocese,” Koesler noted. “Except” — he shook his head-” the poor man didn’t live to enjoy the fruits of his embezzlement.”

  “Poor!” Father Dunn exclaimed, “He built the most luxurious palace I’ve ever heard of!”

  “Yes …” Koesler partway agreed,”… but to do that, he surrendered his service to God and God’s people.”

  “Indeed it was a short-lived triumph,” Koznicki said. “It began for Father Keating the day he disappeared. As it turned out, he really did disappear. He left for Bahrain that day, leaving behind his partner-in-crime to tie up all the loose ends.”

  “That’s something that puzzles me,” Dunn said. “Why didn’t the two of them just run off together? They had the money, and they’d built themselves a castle in a country that didn’t have an extradition treaty with us.”

  “That way,” Koznicki said, “they would have, as the expression has it, given away the farm. As long as Father Keating remained merely missing, the Detroit archdiocese was unlik
ely to order an audit of St. Waldo’s financial records. In addition, even after a year or so and the ordering of the audit, it is by no means certain that the audit would have uncovered the embezzlement.

  “It was an almost perfect plan. One would almost have to view with suspicion St. Waldo’s finances in order to unearth the crime. And,” Koznicki turned toward Koesler, “that is where my dear friend Father Koesler enters the case.

  “Your disclaimer to the contrary notwithstanding, Father, it was you who brought us back to St. Waldo’s for one final look. And it was your suspicion that discovered what really was going on.”

  Koesler attempted to wave away the compliment. “Any priest in this archdiocese who handles marriage cases would know there’s no charge for them anymore.”

  “True, my friend. But you brought us back to the scene. And, as I have told you many times, you have a good mind for this sort of thing.”

  Koesler chuckled. “Meaning I should have joined the police force?”

  “Oh, no. If you had not become a priest, you would have missed your destiny. And we would have been the poorer for not having your expert contribution in some of these cases.”

  “Be that as it may,” Koesler said, “and getting back to Father Dunn’s question, Jack and Lacy DeVere certainly weren’t looking for any sort of notoriety. They didn’t want to become another Bonnie and Clyde, They wanted to live out their years in luxury and security. It was just possible, as the inspector said, that they might have gotten away with it for good and all. And even if, years later, they were discovered, well, time tends to soften a reaction-even to embezzlement.”

  “Excuse me,” Dunn said, “this is just an honest question. But isn’t there a statute of limitations? I mean couldn’t Keating have spent his six or ten years or whatever in Bahrain and then been free to come and go here once the statute of limitations had expired?”

  “There is, indeed, a statute of limitations on embezzlement,” Koznicki replied, “but the person charged with embezzlement must spend those years in the jurisdiction where that crime was committed. In other words, when Father Keating left this country, the clock stopped ticking. In effect, he became a permanent expatriate. Although I doubt that this troubled him.”

  “Okay, so much for embezzlement …” Dunn continued his probe into every facet of what he hoped would be but his first of many homicide investigations. “… what about murder? They hadn’t planned on murder, had they?”

  “A moot question, Father,” Koznicki said. “As far as Father Keating is concerned, probably not. But remember, the two of them had carved out their separate roles in this scheme. After their collaboration in setting up the shell companies, the actual manipulation of money was Father Keating’s job. Keeping prying eyes away and patching up loose ends was Miss DeVere’s responsibility.

  “Remember that before Father Keating’s ‘disappearance,’ the reporter, Mr. Salden, was on the trail of their scheme. Miss DeVere probably saw no way out but murder.

  “Again, even though Father Keating was safely in Bahrain, Guido Vespa was about to disclose a vital ingredient of their scheme to Father Koesler. That would have robbed them of a scot-free getaway. And don’t forget: She had already murdered once.

  “But when things started closing in, she must’ve been fearful of being found out: She left the country in such haste that she neglected to dispose of her machine pistol. We found it in her apartment. It is the gun that killed both Salden and Vespa. And it is covered with her prints-and hers alone. She escaped us by a hairsbreadth. If she had been able to control her jealous rage when she found Father Keating with another woman …” Koznicki shrugged. The conclusion was obvious.

  “What do you think will happen to her?” It seemed it had to be Father Dunn’s final question.

  Koznicki shrugged again. “The rules of evidence, presumption of innocence, and due process in Bahrain are certainly different from ours. If both the victim and the perpetrator were not U.S. citizens, I fear it would be capital punishment for a capital crime. As it is, my guess would be at least an extended prison sentence, perhaps life. And, might I add, I would not be surprised if their prison amenities are far less pleasant even than ours. In other words, a living’ hell.

  “And …” Koznicki anticipated a corollary question from Dunn.

  “… should she be set free-live out her sentence, be paroled-she would always have to be looking over her shoulder. There are many well-placed local people who would dearly want her to pay for the crimes she committed here. If someday she were to be kidnapped and find herself dumped on the Wayne or Oakland County prosecutor’s doorstep, she very surely would face trial for murder here.

  “In other words, by one intemperate action, she went from paradise to despair.”

  “Oh … uh … one more thing …” This had to be Father Dunn’s final question. “… the car.”

  “The car?” Koznicki repeated.

  “Keating’s car. How come it was found parked near Costello’s house?”

  “Truly bizarre,” Koznicki commented, “but fitting neatly into place in this scheme. It was one more ploy to convince us that Father Keating was indeed dead and had been murdered.

  “Late the same Friday night that Father left the country, Miss DeVere, wearing gloves, drove Father’s car to where she parked it near the Costello home. After wiping the steering wheel clean of prints-another smokescreen-she walked two blocks to where the taxi she had arranged for was waiting.

  “When we found the abandoned car-as inevitably we would-our suspicion of foul play would be confirmed. But we would not be able to link the car to the Costellos or to Rerno Vespa because, on the one hand, they had nothing to do with it and, on the other, Guido assured her that his family would have alibis for the time frame. That he had determined without their knowledge.”

  Noting the furrow in Dunn’s brow, Koznicki added, “Much of what we have discovered through our own investigation has been corroborated by statements Miss DeVere has made to the authorities in Bahrain. In her present situation, it is definitely in her own best interest that she be cooperative. She is bargaining now for her very life.”

  Father Koesler, who was developing almost a paternal solicitude toward Dunn, smiled. “Satisfied?”

  The contented look on Dunn’s face was response enough to Koesler’s question. “Oh, yes. Both with the meal-thank you, Mrs. Koznicki-and the investigation-thank you, Bob Koesler.”

  Koesler smiled more broadly. “Look at all the stories you’ll be able to tell your confreres in the Twin Cities about big bad Detroit.”

  “That’s true … whenever I get back.”

  The smile faded. “What?”

  “I’ve been thinking of renewing my enrollment in the university.”

  “What?”

  “There’s no end to what a person can learn about psychology. And there’s lots more I can learn about police procedure and crime investigations.”

  Preliminary to my taking over from you, Dunn left unsaid.

  Koesler understood the unspoken intention. “Listen, Nick, I know what you’re thinking. Now you’re welcome to stay, but you’re mistaken if you think I get involved in these investigations as some sort of avocation. You couldn’t be more wrong. The most exciting thing that’s going to happen at Old St. Joe’s is going to be figuring out how we’ll raise enough money to fix the church roof. I’d be willing to bet that I’ll never be involved in another police investigation.”

  Koznicki kept a straight face, but he couldn’t keep the amusement from his eyes, Dunn smiled outright. “I know Guido Vespa tried to teach us that gambling can be harmful to one’s health,” he said, “but, Bob, I’ll just cover that bet.”

  FB2 document info

  Document ID: fbd-35d008-f02a-d449-74ba-b338-6f73-16a4f7

  Document version: 1

  Document creation date: 21.01.2013

  Created using: calibre 0.9.13, Fiction Book Designer, FictionBook Editor Release 2.6 software

 
Document authors :

  William X. Kienzle

  About

  This file was generated by Lord KiRon's FB2EPUB converter version 1.1.5.0.

  (This book might contain copyrighted material, author of the converter bears no responsibility for it's usage)

  Этот файл создан при помощи конвертера FB2EPUB версии 1.1.5.0 написанного Lord KiRon.

  (Эта книга может содержать материал который защищен авторским правом, автор конвертера не несет ответственности за его использование)

  http://www.fb2epub.net

  https://code.google.com/p/fb2epub/