Dolly Wasik, Secretary, Pastoral Care Department
Barbara Wineka, Director, Department of Volunteer Services
Mt. Carmel Mercy Hospital, Detroit:
Thomas J. Petinga, Jr., D.O., FACEP, Chairman, Department of Emergency Medicine
Rosemary Clisdal, R.N., Assistant Charge Nurse, Department of Emergency Medicine
William M. Collins, CRNA, Staff Anesthetist, Department of Anesthesia
Vivien Dishmon, R.N., Assistant Head Nurse, Department of Surgery
Scott T. Harris, M.D., Chief Surgical Resident, Department of Emergency Medicine
Willard S. Holt, Jr., M.D, FCCP, Chairman, Department of Anesthesia
Gloria Kuhn, DO., FACEP, Director of Residency, Department of Emergency Medicine
Maureen Loose, R.N., Staff Nurse, Department of Surgery
Bob Mahanti, Surgical Assistant, Department of Surgery
James Patton, Biomedical Engineering Technician
Robert Roussin, R.N., Assistant Charge Nurse, Department of Emergency Medicine
Andrews McMeel Publishing, LLC
an Andrews McMeel Universal company,
1130 Walnut Street, Kansas City, Missouri 64106
This is a work of fiction and, as such, events described herein are creations of the author’s imagination. Any relation to real people, living or dead, is purely coincidental and accidental.
ISBN 978-1-4494-2365-0
www.andrewsmcmeel.com
William X. Kienzle died in December 2001. He was a Detroit parish priest for twenty years before leaving the priesthood. He began writing his popular mystery series after serving as an editor and director at the Center for Contemplative Studies at the University of Dallas.
The Father Koesler Mysteries
1. The Rosary Murders
2. Death Wears a Red Hat
3. Mind Over Murder
4. Assault with Intent
5. Shadow of Death
6. Kill and Tell
7. Sudden Death
8. Deathbed
9. Deadline for a Critic
10. Marked for Murder
11. Eminence
12. Masquerade
13. Chameleon
14. Body Count
15. Dead Wrong
16. Bishop as Pawn
17. Call No Man Father
18. Requiem for Moses
19. The Man Who Loved God
20. The Greatest Evil
21. No Greater Love
22. Till Death
23. The Sacrifice
24. The Gathering
Here is a special preview of
Deadline for a Critic
The Father Koesler Mysteries: Book 9
1
There is something special about an execution.
Ordinarily, the condemned is suffering from no fatal disease. No mortal wound has been inflicted. At least not yet. All the vital forces of the body tell it to go on living. It is not time to slow down. It is not time to die.
But some outside force, some external element—authority—decrees that it is, indeed, time to die. And so, by fiat, it is.
That is what is so special about an execution, whether it be legal by way of capital punishment or illegal as in an act of murder. A life is taken before its apparent due course has been completed. One faces eternity prematurely. The ultimate trauma, as it were.
Often, some sort of quasi ceremony is observed. Sometimes the condemned is permitted to pray, to put his or her soul in order. Sometimes the morbid curiosity of the executioner must be satisfied: How will the condemned face death? Sometimes invitations are issued and a procession to the death chamber is formed.
Traditionally, the condemned is given the choice of a final meal. Such was the case with Ridley C. Groendal. Except that he was not aware that this was to be his last supper.
“Ramon,” Groendal said, tucking the napkin over his tummy, “what would you suggest?”
“Monsieur would enjoy the pate tonight, I am sure.” The waiter exuded a poise that went with his job. After all, the London Chop House was the consensus prestige scene of Detroit restaurants. And its prices reflected that eminence.
Groendal nodded. “Yes, yes, yes. And I think some of your beluga caviar.”
“No . . .” Groendal’s dinner partner murmured to no one in particular.
“. . . and perhaps some Brie,” Groendal continued.
“Incredible,” Peter Harison murmured again.
“Excellent,” Ramon said. “And you, Monsieur Harison?”
“Nothing. If anything, I’ll help Mr. Groendal with his hors d’oeuvres.”
“Of course.” Ramon’s right eyebrow lifted almost imperceptibly. “And something from the bar?”
“A double martini, up—chill the gin—with a twist,” Groendal said.
“Ah, the usual. Very good. And Monsieur Harison?”
“Nothing.”
