the
Those parts of the paper Koesler had already scanned. He wondered desperately what was happening in
The call was from Inspector Walter Koznicki, head of the Homicide Division of the Detroit Police Department.
Koesler and Koznicki had met many years before during an investigation of the serial killings of some Detroit priests and nuns. Building on that chance association, the two men had become fast friends.
This message was succinct if deferential. Inspector Koznicki requested Father Koesler’s presence at headquarters, immediately, if possible. A uniformed officer would be waiting to drive Father.
Even though only a few long blocks separated St. Joseph’s and Police Headquarters, in view of the crowd, as well as the urgency of the meeting, driving was the way to go.
Koesler apologized to Bennie, and particularly to Mrs. Bennie, for not being able to take lunch. He did not give any detail; this morning’s events spoke for themselves.
He shed his cassock and donned a black jacket and a topcoat. He and his driver were on their way to one of the most well-known addresses in the city: 1300 Beaubien.
Koesler was ushered into a Homicide squad room that had been vacated for this meeting. In addition to Koznicki and Koesler, present were Lieutenant Alonzo Tully and a woman Koesler had never met.
Tully-nicknamed Zoo, a play on Alonzo-was a veteran Homicide officer, dedicated and thoroughly professional. Two women-first his wife, along with his children, then a significant other-had lost the battle with his work. As a homicide lieutenant, Tully headed a squad of detectives.
His and Koesler’s paths had crossed several years before, again in a homicide investigation. Although Tully had understood from the start that Koesler’s only function in these occasional forays into crime-solving was to be as a resource for things Catholic, Tully had initially not been happy about that. He wanted no fingers in the pie save those of professionals. That the priest was a dear friend not only of Koznicki’s but also of the inspector’s family did not mitigate Tully’s opinion.
But, over the years, Tully had not only mellowed, he had become quite receptive to Koesler’s contributions. Contributions made only when the puzzle had a distinctly Catholic tenor. In this present case the puzzle involved an allegedly dead body returned to life while being waked in Father Koesler’s church.
This case almost defined the relationship.
After the two officers greeted the priest, Inspector Koznicki addressed Koesler in his usual courtly manner. “Father, I believe you have not met Dr. Marian Price. Dr. Price is a teaching physician at Receiving Hospital. We have told her about you and why we have invited you to this meeting.”
The doctor and Koesler shook hands.
“Do you have any idea why we invited you here?” Koznicki asked.
“If I had to guess,” Koesler said, “it would be the Dr. Green thing. But I suppose that’s because I’m up to my ears in this affair. I really can’t say why I’m here in the Homicide Division.”
“It’s not that tough, Father,” Tully said. “It comes down to we don’t believe in miracles. So, we’d like to find out what happened.”
“That’s not too far from the policy of my Church,” said Koesler.
“It isn’t?” Tully was surprised.
“Well,” Koesler said, “we
Tully found Koesler’s reaction and the attitude of his Church unexpected. The lieutenant had supposed that the Church would readily greet the news that, as a result of a Catholic ceremony, a dead man had been brought back to life. Such an occurrence would do no harm to Church coffers, either.
If truth be known, Tully had agreed only reluctantly to bring Koesler in on this investigation. Admittedly, the matter was made to order for the priest’s field of expertise. And, of course, the event had taken place in Koesler’s church, in Koesler’s presence. But Tully had feared the priest would have a closed mind-in favor of the miraculous.
Tully smiled. Now they could get down to cases.
“Understand, Lieutenant,” Koesler cautioned, “I don’t dismiss the possibility that it might, indeed, be a miracle. I’ve been to a lot of funerals. This is the only one where the corpse walked away, as it were. That’s where we differ-that possibility. But right now, we’re in exactly the same boat-looking for some other logical explanation.”
“Fair enough,” Tully said.
“In fact,” Koznicki said, “we have already begun the investigation. In attempting to discover what happened here, we have interviewed some of the major participants. We are trying to find out what happened that should not have happened, and what did not happen that should have happened.”
After Koznicki shuffled through various reports on his desk, he selected one and replaced the others in order. “We begin with Dr. Green’s personal physician, a Dr. Garnet Fox. Dr. Fox said that Dr. Green’s health had been deteriorating. In the past six to eight months he had not been taking on any new patients. Also, increasingly, he had been referring many of his longtime patients to other physicians.
“He suffered from arteriosclerotic heart disease and a very painful back. The back pain was acute and chronic. His appetite had been off. Dr. Fox suggests the almost constant pain would cause a loss of appetite. But no cause was found for the back pain. Every known test was applied, but no physical cause showed up.”
“Which would mean,” Dr. Price broke in, “that either our technology at this point is inadequate-which is entirely possible-or the back pain was psychosomatic.”
“Thank you,” Koznicki said. “Dr. Fox further stated that there is a stockpile of medications for chronic pain, even specifically for back pain. However, with continued use, over time, the human body is able to tolerate larger and larger doses-and thus requires increased amounts in order to control the pain.
“Recently, Dr. Fox has heard Dr. Green state-and this is a sentiment that Dr. Green has expressed more and more often-‘I’d rather die than go on like this.’
“With all this background, Dr. Fox was not at all surprised when, yesterday, Mrs. Green called to say that she thought her husband had died.
“Dr. Fox asked her to describe what she saw. She said there was no pulse, no evident respiration. His mouth was open. His tongue was dry. He had a glassy, fixed stare. His body felt cold to the touch. He was a bluish color. And there was pinpoint dilation of the pupils.
“Again, given the condition Dr. Green had been in during the past months and his deep, abiding despair, Dr. Fox was convinced from the description the wife gave that Dr. Green was indeed dead.
“Dr. Fox was quite close to the Green family and wanted to spare the widow from all the details that must be attended to at the time of death. So he told her he would see to the medical requirements. All she would have to do was select a funeral home, have a grave site, and decide what, if any, religious service she wanted.
“Then, Dr. Fox called the medical examiner’s office. At his word, the M.E. signed to release the body. And Dr. Fox signed the death certificate, noting that death was caused by heart failure due to arteriosclerosis and hypertension. Chronic pain and loss of the will to live are bad enough, but they don’t cause death directly. However, in all probability, it was his weakened heart that took him.” Koznicki raised a quizzical eyebrow.
“That was it?” Father Koesler’s mouth had been hanging open in disbelief. “No professional person examined him!”
“That was it, all right,” Koznicki affirmed. “But I would suggest that, up to this point, everything that happened had a logical cause. Dr. Green was a very sick man. Even in the event his back pain might have been psychosomatic, psychosomatic pain can hurt just as badly as physically caused pain.
