Koesler shrugged. He was not at all happy with this dilemma that was not of his doing. If Tully had not sought his help, if Bash had kept his mouth shut, if Archbishop Foley had not asked for the information with such sincerity; if none of this had happened, Koesler could now be ringing doorbells in high rises, trying to augment his tiny flock.
“All right, First, I should make it clear that this information is second or third hand and that I have no idea, even if this information is correct, how seriously the police regard these men as suspects. But the two are Arnold Carson and Fred Stapleton.” Koesler allowed the names to sink in while Foley tried to put faces on those names.
“Arnold Carson …” Foley’s voice was barely audible, as if speaking to himself. “Arnold Carson …” a bit louder, “Isn’t he the right-winger?”
Koesler nodded.
“Leader of the Tridentines, isn’t he?” Foley pursued.
“Very good,” Koesler said.
“I remember him,” Foley said. “He’s forever in the media. Abortion-whether it’s pro-choice or pro-life, he’s there throwing his weight around, saying things calculated to get quoted. Yes, I can see him now I’ve got a clear picture.
“And the other one. What did you say his name is?”
“Stapleton, Fred Stapleton.” Koesler briefly considered offering some specifics but thought better of it. Let’s see if the archbishop can come up with it, he thought.
“Stapleton,” Foley repeated. “Let’s see, he’s in medicine, a doctor. Medical? No, a psychologist. That’s it, a psychologist.”
“And a former priest,” Koesler added.
“Of course. That’s why I remember him. He’s a priest … or was one, I guess. He too is heavy in the media. Never met him but I’ve seen his picture many a time. I know I would recognize him if I ever saw him. But why in God’s green world would he be a suspect?”
“He’s a very active member of CORPUS. Are you familiar with that organization?”
“Certainly. But why should that make him a suspect? CORPUS is a pretty … I want to say ‘tame,’ but better make that ‘gentlemanly’ bunch. They just want to function as priests again. Always seemed logical to me,” he added.
“I agree, Bishop. But as we’ve already noted, you’re not Pope.”
“Yes, I see what you’re driving at,” Foley said. “Just because we see no problem with bringing these qualified men back to practice doesn’t mean it’s going to happen. A right-wing minority, some highly placed Cardinals and bureaucrats and the Holy Father himself are very strongly opposed.”
“Exactly. And that contributes to a certain level of frustration on the part of those men who are knocking on the door. Almost everyone I’ve met in CORPUS is extremely self-controlled. They tend to see the rightness of their cause and they seem to make a super virtue of perseverance. They’re just going to keep knocking until the door finally is opened to them. And they’re confident it will be one day. I can’t say I’m that confident it’s going to happen,” he added.
“You may very well be right. The opposition to them is, I think, not a majority. But it is powerful. But, back to this Stapleton. Perseverance is not his long suit, I take it.”
“We were pretty close in the seminary, Excellency, but I haven’t seen him for quite some time. I knew him as a patient, thoughtful person. But others, who are more currently acquainted with him, say he’s changed. That his frustration is on the verge of-or already is-running over. Some even say they can picture him becoming extremist. I can’t see that myself. But, again, it’s been awhile.”
“I see.” Foley seemed lost in thought. Koesler did not intrude.
Abruptly, the archbishop looked sharply at Koesler, “I suppose,” Foley said, “you’re wondering what this is all about … my asking you to come down here and all?”
“Well, yes and no. I can easily see how you would be concerned about this business. We all are. You’d like all the information you can get. But others have better information than I have. For instance, the names of the possible suspects the police are working with; as I mentioned, I got those from Father Bash. In fact, that I could come up with the names was purely accidental. I just happened to be playing cards-which I very seldom do-when the subject came up.
“Well, I’ll tell you. Ever since the Cardinal mentioned your … uh … avocation of assisting the police, I’ve been looking into the matter-quietly and unobtrusively, mind you. Now I don’t doubt for an instant that your involvement in police work has come about just as you’ve explained: You’ve been drawn in by peculiar sets of circumstances-the right place at the right or wrong time sort of thing.
“However, after that I fear you are far too modest. Several times, or so I’ve been told, you’ve been much more than simply a source of information and authentication. Sometimes you have actually solved the case. Now don’t be denying it,” Foley quickly added.
“I suppose you might conclude that. I don’t look at it quite that way. But I guess it’s not worth arguing about. So even if we grant that I’ve contributed something of substance in the past, I’m still left wondering why you chose to call me in just now.”
“Two reasons. This case, by its very nature, needs someone like yourself to cut through all the mysterious nooks and crannies of our creaky old Church. Secondly-and for me more important-I’ve had a premonition for some time now. The premonition is that Mark-Cardinal Boyle-is among the intended victims this murderer is stalking.
“Now, I know very well that there’s no proof for such an idea. And you’re probably telling yourself that it’s just an old man’s hallucination. But it’s very real to me, Father. And I want to do everything in my power to make certain sure it doesn’t happen. Do you understand?”
In his younger years, Koesler very probably would have pooh-poohed something as vague as a premonition. Just as he had once dismissed intuition as nothing more than a hysterical reaction. But no more. He was older and, thank God, somewhat wiser.
“I understand,” Koesler said, “and I respect your premonition. But what makes you think that Cardinal Boyle could be in any danger?”
“To tell the truth, it came to me in prayer. I was saying my breviary the Other day and came across the saying,
“How’s that?”
“Well, both of them, uh … Carson and, uh … Stapleton, seem bent on stirring up a ruckus to get the Church’s attention-though for different reasons, of course. Carson wants to go back to the thirteenth century, or at very least to the 1950s. And Stapleton wants to jump ahead into the twenty-first-or twenty-second-century. But to do either, they figure they’ve, got to stir things up-get the attention of the Church.
“What better way than to strike down the chief shepherd of the diocese? Do that and the sheep will be scattered, dispersed, all shaken up. He will have gotten the Church’s attention. Don’t you see?”
“Yes, Bishop, I see. But if that were the intention of whoever is doing this, why bother with Sister Joan or, particularly, Larry Hoffer? How would they fit into this scheme?”
Foley’s brow knit as he gnawed at his lower lip. “I don’t know. This is not a full-blown theory, you know, Father, it’s just a premonition. But a very strong one.
“Okay, Bishop, let me try to fill in the missing pieces.
“Suppose your premonition is accurate. Now, I agree that the murder of an ordinary, an archbishop and a
