puzzle a little open-minded consideration.
He stopped at Topinka’s on West Seven Mile and Telegraph for a quick lunch. As usual, he ordered hamburger, which here masqueraded as ground round. The portions were generous. As usual, that matched his appetite. While he waited for the entree, the waitress brought coffee. She was “fathering” him unmercifully, but fortunately made no effort to tap his professional aid. Sometimes a meal out could become an extended counseling session.
He lit a cigarette and watched as the gray plumes left his nostrils, wafted over the tablecloth, then dissipated to contaminate the rest of the dining area.
How in the world could Frank’s death not be a suicide?
He himself had brought the bad news to Frank and Martha. As bitterly disappointing as the message was, they seemed to accept the verdict without anger or resentment. If anything, Frank had been the more accepting of the two.
Koesler had to admit that in retrospect, it hadn’t seemed that suicide was just around the corner. He had even extended his visit until he was sure the couple was all right.
He crushed the cigarette out in the ashtray. A thin trail of smoke spiraled up as if a genie were going to appear and grant three wishes.
The first wish would not be difficult: Vinnie would get his miracle.
His lunch was served: hamburger just right, crisp french fries, coleslaw, and some carrots. All would be consumed.
As to what had happened after he’d left the Morris house, Koesler would, of course, have to depend on what others had told him.
Apparently, Frank and Martha had talked for some time. Then they’d decided to close up shop. Martha went upstairs after asking Frank to check the furnace and, as she’d put it, inviting him to her bed.
Koesler stopped the replay and reflected on the wife who, after almost three years, invites her loving husband to sleep with her again. He winced. Neither Frank nor Martha had voluntarily chosen a monastic life. Koesler had delivered the demand that they affect a relationship that the Church required. Those few words of Martha’s told that they had kept their part of the bargain.
In time the waitress returned. “Would Father like some dessert, Father?”
“No-just more coffee.”
“Was everything okay?”
“Yup.”
“Well, a gentleman paid for your lunch.”
“Really?” Koesler looked around. “Which gentleman?”
“I don’t know his name. He left the restaurant about fifteen minutes ago.”
Interesting, thought Koesler. I wonder why … I’ll never know.
The waitress brought more coffee.
“Did the gentlemen leave you an adequate tip?”
“Oh yes, Father. It was very generous, Father. Thank you for asking, Father.”
14
Father Koesler put the car in gear and his mind in neutral as he drove out of the restaurant parking lot.
Where was he in this exercise in memory? Oh yes: Martha had just asked Frank to check the furnace before joining her in bed. To consider all this detail, it was necessary to rely on Martha, the only living witness to this event.
Martha had fully intended to stay awake to greet her husband. But with one thing and another, particularly the discouraging news about their petition, she was exhausted. She drifted quickly into a deep sleep.
She was awakened by the window-rattling explosion. She thought it must be the furnace. And she had just sent Frank down to look it over.
She ran down the stairs. That’s when she found Frank on the living room floor with the gun.
Sure sounds like suicide to me, thought Koesler, not for the first time. And then there was that poignant note. That pretty well wrapped it up, he concluded.
What sort of loophole had Father Walsh thought he’d discovered?
Wait a minute. If it’s just a hole one is looking for, how long had Martha been asleep when she was awakened by the gunshot? She never said. She undoubtedly didn’t know; why should she?
You don’t fall asleep, then be wakened by an explosion someplace in the house, then check the clock to see how long you’ve been sleeping.
It was almost ludicrous. Koesler tried to visualize himself in a similar situation. The last thing on his mind would be what time it was or how long he’d been asleep. He would do exactly what Martha had done: As quickly as possible he would go to investigate what had happened.
That must be it … that must be the loophole that Father Walsh had found. Koesler couldn’t think of a single thing to do about it. But there it was: The time between when Martha actually went to bed and when she was awakened was unknown. And now, years later, that gap would have to remain unknown. What little evidence there had been was gone now. If there was a guilty second person, fingerprints would be blurred by everyone who had touched things. How many people had handled that note, the gun, the body? It had seemed such a clear-cut case of suicide that no one had given an instant’s thought to any other possibility.
This single consideration opened the whole matter once again.
What might have happened while Martha slept for God knows how long?
Could someone have rung the doorbell? Would that have wakened Martha? Depends on how deeply she was sleeping. Perhaps someone had knocked at the door. That probably wouldn’t have been loud enough to wake her.
Just suppose someone came to the house-rang the doorbell or knocked-why might he or she call at that hour?
Suppose it was one of the kids. Lucy lived only a few blocks away. Tony could easily enough have come in from Kalamazoo. Vinnie would not be the first seminarian to escape from the minimum security of St. John’s. Realistically, though, Vinnie would be the least likely of the three to call on Frank. Vinnie would have had one tough time finding transportation. But … possible.
Could any of the three have known about the Vatican rejection?
Koesler himself had gotten the verdict in the mail that very day. He had told no one before-or directly after, for that matter-sharing the news with Frank and Martha. How could anyone else have known?
One of the high school girls, in addition to other parochial chores, was assigned to pick up the daily mail from the rectory’s main office and deliver it to the various priests’ offices. While Lucy did not fill that role, she could’ve had the mail girl tell her if an envelope from Rome came to Father Koesler.
If the letter came and the verdict was positive, Father Koesler would have delivered the good news immediately. The fact that he received such a letter and put off sharing its contents was a pretty good indication that the news was bad.
Then what?
Say, for sake of argument, that Lucy had somehow learned about the verdict. What if she enlisted the aid of Tony, he being the more mobile of her brothers?
What if they staked out the Morris home? Easy enough to do. Koesler had come early and left relatively early.
They note that Martha goes upstairs, undoubtedly headed to bed. They knock on the door. Frank lets them in without hesitation.
Then what?
They try to talk Frank into leaving Martha so their aunt can finally receive the sacraments again. And just in time for Vinnie’s first Mass.
Obviously, Frank will not leave Martha.
