coffee?”
“Certainly.” Koesler rose and picked up both mugs. “I’ll be right back.”
Fortunately, Irene Casey had made more than enough for refills. Thus saving Lieutenant Tully from a memorable but awful experience.
15
While Tully waited for Father Koesler to return with the coffee, the lieutenant let his concentration relax a notch.
He studied the room. Real wood paneling with meticulous detail. This was an old, old house. He reflected that Koesler, and, he supposed, all priests-at least the ones Koesler called parish priests-lived where they worked. Not many people did that anymore. In a situation like this, the demand on one’s time went on around the clock.
Although he himself did not live where he worked, Tully thought wryly, he worked where he lived. And it was to her everlasting credit that Alice recognized that and tolerated it. All too frequently, he took his work home with him in the form of reports, assignment rosters, or just a preoccupation with a case he happened to be investigating. Had he been required to punch a time clock, in all truth he scarcely ever would punch out.
Tully was a dedicated cop. None could deny that. In fact, very few officers cared to match his dedication.
Yet, as he thought on it, he figured that most priests would have to be as dedicated to their calling as he was to his. The very condition of working and living in the same space, especially in a service occupation where people sought help at any hour of the day or night, demanded close to total dedication.
He’d never before looked at it in this light. But then, to date, he’d seldom thought about priests. If he were a prayerful man-,which he most definitely was not-he would have prayed that he would never again get involved in a homicide case that had any religious overtones whatsoever. Immediately after that nonprayer, Koesler returned with two steaming mugs of-blessedly-Irene’s coffee.
“Now, where were we?” Koesler said as he settled into his chair. “Oh, yes: Larry Hoffer, God rest his soul.” He took a sip of coffee, set his cup down, and throught for a minute. “Larry was a good example of what seems to be happening more and more these days. A growing number of men and women are turning to some sort of Church work after they retire from their secular careers. More men than women-although I think that will even up as women’s careers more nearly match men’s. The problem, of course, is that the Church can’t match the salaries and benefits offered out in the world.
“Anyway, Larry Hoffer had a brilliant career in the comptroller’s department at Ford Motor Company. When he was nearing retirement, he decided he wanted to do something for the Church before finally retiring.
“Needless to say, he was a great catch for the Detroit archdiocese. Cardinal Boyle hired him immediately. Of course we couldn’t match what he earned at Ford. But he wasn’t so much interested in the final buck as he was in contributing his talents to the Church.
“Fortunately, the position of head of finance and administration was open when Larry offered his services, and he moved right in. He’s done a magnificent job, as everyone knew he would. Until … until …”
“Was he married?”
“Yes. Poor woman. I didn’t know her but I will certainly pray for her. Come to think of it, Larry’s situation is very much like Quent Jeffrey’s,”
“Humm?”
“Quentin Jeffrey. A deacon-head of the deacon program.”
“A deacon? The Baptists got deacons, as I recall.” Tully’s comprehension was threatening to disintegrate, “This may be more than my mind can handle.”
Koesler could sympathize. “Lieutenant, it seems confusing because we’re dealing with the bureaucratic Church. It gets simpler as it gets down to just people.”
“We are, unfortunately, where we’ve got to be,” Tully said, “Whoever killed the Donovan woman and Hoffer, if he’s messing with department heads, may know as much as you do about the top echelon. He sure as hell knows more than I do. Continue, please. What about deacons? What about Jeffrey?”
“Deacons go back a long way. All the way back to the Bible. When the infant Christian Church began to grow, the apostles found they couldn’t do it all. So they appointed ‘seven holy deacons.’ The rank goes back that far! For centuries, men-and men only-in their progress toward priesthood were ordained to the functions that, in earlier times, had been fulltime jobs in the Church. In the ceremony called tonsure-a cutting of hair-” Koesler explained, “the man became a cleric.
“Then,” Koesler continued, his explanation interspersed with subexplanations, “followed four ‘minor’ orders: porter (janitor), lector (reader), exorcist (caster-out of demons), and acolyte (a server at the altar). The ‘major’ orders were subdiaconate-which included the obligations of celibacy and daily recitation of the monastic hours of prayer, or the breviary; diaconate-the first step into the sacrament of Holy Orders; and finally, the priesthood.
“The order fell out of practical use some centuries ago. Until very recently, nobody remained a deacon. It became merely a step you took on your way to becoming a priest. Then we started running out of priests, and what was called the ‘permanent diaconate’ was reestablished. Now, in the post-conciliar Church, the diaconate has also been made available to men who choose to remain in that office, without intention of progressing to priesthood.”
“Why would the Church do that?”
“Because a deacon can do almost everything a priest does-baptize, preach, witness marriages-everything except saying Mass and absolving from sin.”
“But what’s the advantage? For the deacons, I mean: If they can do
“Deacons can be married.”
“Oh.” Tully almost asked a follow-up question but thought better of it.
“Now,” Koesler continued, “what got me started on Quent was the similarity between his background and Larry Hoffer’s, Both men were significantly successful in their lay careers, Larry a financial wizard prized by Ford, and Quent with his public relations firm, Jeffrey, Smith and Allan … maybe you remember them?”
Tully thought briefly. “Yeah … didn’t they do a lot in politics?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I remember: Jeffrey used to sit in on WJR on election nights predicting the results. He was pretty accurate. Good-looking dude.”
“Still is. But the election business was only part of what he did. Then, like Larry, he decided to leave the public arena and devote his talents to the Church. So he became a deacon. And because he was so talented, the Cardinal asked him to guide the program. Even though it goes all the way back to the Bible, for us, now, it’s a relatively new game.”
“And,” Tully tested his understanding of the matter, “Jeffrey became a deacon and not a priest because he was married.”
“That’s about the size of it. But now, unfortunately, he’s a widower.”
Tully raised an eyebrow.
“His wife died of cancer a while back. It was tragic.”
Tully mulled that over. “But he’ll probably marry again. He’s still young and he’s still a good catch.”
“No, he won’t marry again.”
“You seem pretty sure of that.”
“He can’t marry again. Church law makes it impossible for men who are deacons or priests to marry. In so many words it just says clerics in major orders cannot contract matrimony.”
“But you just said-”
“There is no second marriage allowed after one becomes a deacon or a priest. There is no marriage allowed for men who are going to become priests.”
“Say again?”
