Masquerade

off.

Augustine thought he had learned something about Koesler. But the inductive reasoning process, arguing from one example to a general principle, would prove incorrect. Under ordinary circumstances, Koesler was anything but a lawbreaker.

On the other hand, Augustine was an interesting study.

Koesler had no first-hand knowledge of current monastic practices. He wondered if the monks still observed a “chapter of faults.” For centuries, members of most religious orders, men and women, held a daily “chapter of faults,” during which individuals openly and publicly accused themselves of violations of anything from the Ten Commandments to their monastic rule of life. And, as if that weren’t enough humiliation, others in the community were invited, again openly and publicly, to add to the accusations any faults that the individual might have forgotten, overlooked, or been too ashamed to own up to.

If that practice was still in place, Koesler was grateful he was not a member of Augustine’s community. Without doubt, Augustine would make certain there was hell to pay for everyone.

Father Koesler had no scheduled duties to perform in this workshop until early afternoon. He had toyed with the idea of returning to his parish, if only to go through the mail and get a few other chores finished-make it a little easier on himself when these five committed days were completed. But experience had taught that when one stepped into one’s rectory office, one thing led to another. A whole day’s work could snowball from a simple, innocent visit to the office to open the morning mail.

All in all, he decided to enjoy the gorgeous fall weather, walking through the cool shadows of Marygrove’s acres of trees.

11

By anyone’s standards, the schedule for the first day of this workshop was undemanding.

Apparently, whoever had set it up-Jack Regan? — realized that with a five-day conference, there was no great call to cram in nonstop events. The schedule provided ample time for students and faculty to get to know one another informally, for the faculty to have the leisure to fully develop their material, for the students to have every opportunity of tapping the faculty for all possible information, suggestions, guidance, and encouragement.

Morning was occupied largely with orientation-type activities: a tour of the campus, sale of books written by members of the faculty as well as some put out by P.G. Press. Sister Janet had the students gather in small group sessions for informal discussions on the nature of religious mystery novels.

All of this was punctuated with coffee and, at the earliest session, doughnuts.

There was only one major event in the afternoon. It was held in Alumni Hall. Since the group consisted of only 150–200 students, the large hall was shrunken by a room divider.

This event was the first and, until the final session, the only time the entire faculty would appear together. Each member of the faculty presented a synopsis of what he or she intended to teach and treat in the individual classes during the week.

Father Koesler, as the one and only “resource person,” sat with the faculty on the platform. But, since he would not be formally teaching any classes, he was not expected to make a presentation. As far as he was concerned, he was auditing this session.

He found the present gathering fascinating due to the extraordinary interactions that had already gone on between the various members of the panel. Koesler had had the leisure to study the interplay since he was, in effect, a spectator.

This was the first any of them had seen of Klaus Krieg since supper last night. Koesler wondered if the students could detect the tension flowing back and forth across the stage. It was, at best, uneven, since Father Augustine had not played any role at all in Krieg’s little psychodrama. Fortunately, in a sense, he’d been spared the emotional investment that make-believe fiasco had demanded. In all probability Augustine had been told what had happened. Still, that was in no way comparable to having gone through it.

On another level, there’d been the altercation between himself, Augustine, and Benbow this morning. Koesler had expected some leftover bad feeling from that. Seemingly there was none. At least Koesler could not detect any, and he was not only on the lookout for a sign of ill will, he was expecting it.

Since his brief conversation with Augustine after Mass, much of the anger he had felt was dissipated. Perhaps a similar type of meeting had diffused the hostility between Augustine and Benbow. . though Koesler would have found it more difficult to forgive and forget had someone called him a heretic.

While Marie, Benbow, and Winer evidenced some tension-at least to the eye of one who was on the lookout for it-Krieg seemed untroubled and at ease. Well, thought Koesler, why not? Up to this point, Krieg had been in the driver’s seat. So far, this had been Krieg’s show. The feeling Koesler got, from the nuances that he was picking up from the victims of last night’s charade, was that the tide was about to turn. Unless he was mistaken there were vibrations of a determination to exact some measure of revenge.

Rabbi Winer, the last of the faculty to deliver a prepared talk, was nearing the conclusion of his allocution.

Koesler dismissed further thought of the dynamics going on between those on the dais and began studying the students. One quick and easy conclusion he reached involved the predominant gender and median age of the group: decidedly female and, he guessed, in the forty-to-fifty age group.

It figured. Most men and women employed outside the home could not get away for a full work week and probably would be unwilling to invest a vacation week on a writers’ workshop. Though there were a few who looked as if they might have made this sacrifice.

Most of the students were women with gray hair and, judging from their bobbing heads, were wearing bifocals, maybe trifocals. There was also a sprinkling of young people, perhaps Marygrove students.

The group’s reactions to the talks were interesting. Since Koesler did not recognize anyone in the crowd, his only means of deducing their purpose in attending was to note the manner in which they responded to the presentations. Still it was little more than a wild guess.

Some, perhaps the majority, seemed intent, eagerly sopping up the words, encouragement, explanations of the faculty. Koesler assumed these were novice writers, unpublished or insufficiently published. He could picture them at home, borrowing time from their daily chores to grind out the pages of their work in progress. He could visualize them sending in their manuscripts and anxiously awaiting each day’s mail until the manuscript was returned with no more than a form letter rejection. If his scenario was correct, the major virtue of these people was perseverance. Disappointed but undaunted, they continued to mail in their submissions while hopefully learning more and continuing to write.

That’s why they were at this conference: to learn. And that’s what they were doing now: learning from some who lived the dream of earning a decent, if not substantial, income from writing.

It was unlikely that all these intent and intense students wrote mystery stories, let alone religious mysteries. That would have to be a rather narrow field. It was not that important what the faculty had written. What was of vital importance was that the faculty was published.

And, while he was ascribing motives to the students, Koesler reminded himself not to overlook the one member of the faculty who did not need to be published. He was a publisher. The horse’s mouth, as it were.

If only they could put it all together. To pick up tips and learn that elusive secret of how to prepare a manuscript for publication and then to understand what it was publishers were looking for in submitted work. The magic formula. Put it all together and one day maybe the students would be faculty at one of these affairs.

There was another, much smaller, group in the audience; those Koesler assumed, were simply fans of one or more of the authors, and/or the publisher. Instead of wearing the earnest, eager expressions of the writers, these simply smiled. They took no notes; just smiled. They seemed determined to enjoy these five days and so, by God, they would.

That pretty well took care of the students, with the exception of a very few who remained hard to pin down. Koesler put them on the back burner of his scrutiny. Because he could not figure them out, they piqued his interest.

Winer was finished and the formal presentations were concluded.